And the best time to write a blog at debrief is when you are sick to your stomach and everyone else ventured out to the Romanian castles. Here goes…
Moldova was the country that no one knew we'd go to when signing up for The Race. We were all expecting to go to Turkey but when it became unsafe our route was switched. This was my first time even hearing of Moldova – I knew nothing. I was told it was the poorest country in the EU and when googling “Moldovan Fun Facts” I learned Moldova really likes it's wine. Upon entering the country I had a funny feeling, for no reason, I was going to love it there, and I did.
As my team visited three different contacts among the country I couldn't help but notice that the color blue appeared everywhere from fences, gates, houses, wells, churches, to the sky and even in the eyes of the Moldovan people. Even when asking others, I couldn't find any reason for its over use but there had to be something to justify it. I couldn't shake the question for the entire 3 weeks we were there. The answer and reasoning that settled my soul came to me the first night we got to debrief in Brasov, Romania. The color blue is the natural representation of how Moldova oozes love and hospitality.
Our first stop was in Falesti (don't pronounce the "i") with a Baptist church called Gestimani. Here we did construction work with one of the most humble, blue-eyed pastors I have ever known. We were working on two of what he calls “Houses of Prayer” from the verse Matthew 23:13. He builds these gathering houses out of faith. He does not have a pastor for either of them or a way to financially support a pastor but he was called to build them and that is what he is doing. We discovered that these were not the first two he's built but he wouldn't tell us how many he's helped construct. He would tell us they are not his – they are God's.
Being our first location we were floored when first introduced to the typical spread of food that was displayed for guests. Olga (pastor Vasile's blue-eyed wife) and Galina cooked every meal for us. We woke up to bread sandwiches, monka (a Moldovan style gritz), amazing crystalized honey, and of course coffee and tea. They sent us away to the work site with a pot full of a home cooked lunch, one “watermile” per person per day, vegetables for a salad, compote to drink, fruit and bread. Pastor Vasile made it a point every day to sit down around a picnic table to eat lunch together. After a long work day we would drive the usual 30 minute stretch, arrive back at the church (our home base) and again be presented with the largest meal of the day. Needless to describe it's specifics we felt like kings and queens.
Throughout our three weeks in Moldova we were invited to two different humble homes for a meal and great conversation. The food that was spread out was homemade and the (common) raspberry jam and compote was jarred themselves. We often ate in the living room, elbow to elbow and in site of someone's bed. At our short visit through the large city Chisinau our team split into pairs to stay with three different hosts. All of which offered up their own bedrooms, washing machines, warm showers, and warm meals. Here blue-eyed Viorica treated us to the countries traditional meal – mamaliga and Molly learned some traditional dances from her host – blue-eyed Tania. Our final stop of the month was at Vineyard church in Ungheni (again, don't pronounce the “i”) with blue-eyed pastor Tudor. His church was located on the fourth floor of a blue building which we again claimed as our home base. We slept in the children's area and the pastor did all he could to be sure we were warm and comfortable.
In Ungheni we did it all. We prayed for healing at the hospital, we harvested two corn fields, blackberries for jam and grapes for white wine. We shared testimonies with strangers and built a small summer house for a young missionary family who lives out of an RV. We celebrated the churches sixteenth birthday and did a flash-mob with the high school kids.
On our last day of ministry there in Ungheni we spent a few hours at the hospital. This was the third time our team had passed through the halls holding an abundance of Pampers (which we discovered was our “hall pass” to get into areas we otherwise would not be allowed). We saw some patients repeatedly and others we hoped had been healed. Specifically blue-eyed Ala who was suffering from an accident involving multiple knife wounds. She had no family and no husband but she was in tears over her two young boys, both under the age of two. We only saw her once but her tear-filled blue-eyes haven't been forgotten. The last patient I was able to pray over was a blue-eyed woman dressed in cheeta print, named Anna. She was in a room with six or seven other ladies. Our translator stood in the center of the room as each of us grabbed a hand and Erika and I said a blanket prayer over all of them. During the prayer I looked Anna in the eyes so she knew my prayer was intentionally for her. I was able to watch tears stream down her face as I told her that Jesus loves her. After we said amen I got two of the most meaningful kisses on my cheeks. Anna didn't say much more but I hoped that she felt the same love that I saw oozing out of the heart of Moldova – a honest, honoring, and humble love. Love that represents Jesus.
