I am watching the Romanian countryside pass me by as dusk sets the foothills and fields ablaze with hues of rose and amber. I feel as if I am saying farewell to a dear, old friend, and I cannot help but feel as if I am running out of time as the fading light quickly dulls my view of this land which has become so cherished to me. Has this month already come to an end? It feels as if only a moment has passed since my arrival, and yet I have gained a lifetime of friendships and memories in the short expanse of a month.
I am currently making my way to Ukraine on a 29 passenger bus with my fellow squad mates. I’ve been told the bus ride will take 22 hours until my team reaches our final destination of Kiev, Ukraine. So, I’m settling in my seat, trying to maintain focus amidst the rustling of snacks and techno music pulsing through the speakers. I tried to write a blog about change during debrief this past week, and I was near to finished when my computer crashed and restarted (to the demise of my blog). That blog will hopefully also be composed during this 22 hour venture, but at the moment, my head and my heart are filled with memories of Romania, so that is what I shall share with you.
I longed to visit Romania before I’d ever heard of the race. I don’t know why, but a friend and I talked about taking a riding holiday upon Andalusians and Lippizanners from one fortified church to another. Something about the mystery in the stories and history of Romania captured my imagination, even though I didn’t know much at all about it. When I first applied for the race, Romania’s presence on my original route was one of the main reasons I applied for that one specifically. I was crushed when I was informed that the route had filled, but soon found out that Romania was the only country that remained the same on the second route available, so I decided to still apply. I felt as if the Lord was still gifting me the chance to visit this country I knew next to nothing about, though a steady passion burned for it in my heart. I couldn’t tell you why exactly I wanted to come here; I just knew it’s what I wanted. It wasn’t until I arrived that the Lord confirmed why He’d given me that passion for Romania.
I have to admit, that confirmation wasn’t immediate upon my arrival. Three of the five teams were placed up north on a farm in Oradea to build homes for a mission there. I was jealous of them. They got to be on a beautiful dairy farm, they got to sleep in really nice accommodations, they were near Hungary (I’d been planning to take a trip to the mother country before I started the race)… they got to ride on a train! This was my self-centered thought process the first day I was here. The Holy Spirit didn’t allow me to rest in such selfish pursuits, in this ugly state of comparison. He desired a different mindset for me, one that was my intention of coming on the race. He asked me, “My love, when was Hungary ever listed on your route? Did you not desire to give up comforts for the sake of loving others? Did you not agree to relinquish the things you thought you were entitled to for the sake of serving others? Trust me, and I will teach you that my desires for you are better than your own.”
How could I argue with this? I gave up my rights on this mission. It is hopefully a trend that will continue beyond the race, but I didn’t NEED any of those things. I don’t need a hot shower. I don’t need a bed in which to sleep. I don’t need to be in a beautiful pastoral setting. I don’t need internet access or constant communication with my family. Yes, all of these things are privileges and blessings, and please don’t mistake me, they’re not bad things, but a sense of entitlement to them is not healthy. For a moment, I had begun to focus on the comforts that would fulfill me, rather than my purpose on this earth; to love others and proclaim the name of Jesus Christ and His never ending, unfathomable love for us.
So, the Lord placed me and my new team in Pitesti (pronounced Pi·tesht), Arges, Romania with a church called Living Hope. Pitesti is near the foothills of the Carpathian Mountains, but rather flat and bleak due to the grey, communist era, block apartments that loomed throughout the city. We met with Cristi, the pastor of the church for coffee and he shared a little of what we would be doing for the month.
There is a community called Razboieni (Raz·boy·en) which is one of the poorest communities in Pitesti. Therein resides a mixture of Romanians and Gypsies. As you can imagine, I perked up at the mention of ministering to gypsies. Ever since I was a little girl, I was fascinated with the very idea of a gypsy, albeit the glamourised Hollywood version of a gypsy.
Regardless, they were a people whose history was vaguely familiar to me, so I at least knew they were greatly disliked and set against by the Romanian people. They are “the other,” the lesser in Romanian society, and gypsy children generally conform to those expectations, rarely dreaming beyond the circumstances which bind them. Like many cultures, they become enslaved to their stereotype. This month, we were to reach through their bleak outlook and show them the hope they could have through a relationship with Christ.
The First day we went to Razboieni to advertise and let the children know we would be teaching music and English classes for a week while they were off from school for Easter holiday. I went around the neighborhood to pass out flyers with Cristi and two of his precious children, and during this simple walk, I witnessed how strongly the love and compassion of Christ is lived out in Cristi’s life. I was amazed as we walked at how children ran to him when they saw him, throwing their arms around him in an embrace and clinging to him as we went on. I felt as if I was walking with the Pied Piper as we collected more and more children. They came on roller blades, stopped playing to join us, and some ceased rifling through the trash to fall in behind him. This was to set the tone for the rest of our month in Romania.
I have never been embraced by a church family in the way that my brothers and sisters at Living Hope welcomed me in with open arms. Before I came on the race, I had heard of community being lived out as it was meant to be by Christians. I think I am gaining a glimpse of community on the race, but we’re only together for eleven months; the family at Living Hope is always living in community. They eat together, they work together, they live near one another, they play together, they do ministry together, they mourn together, and they worship together. They were transparent with us from the beginning, and never tried to hide that life was rough and community could be messy. Whenever they revealed their brokenness, they glorified God with a heart of thankfulness, and allowed His strength to uphold them through their weakness.
I was there for the month with my new team, Majestic Summit, and another team, Heart Refinery. Our teams quickly became part of the family. Not only did we teach a small camp at Razboieni, but we also passed out lunch to the children, played football with them, hosted concerts and ping-pong tournaments, helped move bricks to build a home, visited a communist re-education center, had a picnic and football game with some street kids Cristi has been loving for several years, and had youth nights with lots of music and dramas. On top of that was a lot of fellowship. I gained several steadfast brothers and sisters in my time in Pitesti, relationships that I hope will only grow in my absence.
I also fell in love with the children of Razboieni. They were slightly guarded at first, and rightly so. They come from backgrounds of poverty, abuse, and oppression and their trust had to be earned. The simple idea of a father who loved them was difficult for them to understand. During one of our English sessions, I asked the girls at my table what the word “father” meant to them. One of their fathers had died, another had run away with another woman and started a new family, another father was sexually abusive, and the last just wasn’t present in her life. I was broken that their precious hearts had not been better fought for by their earthly fathers, but so full of joy to tell them that their Heavenly Father cherished them above any thing else, and that He would love them unconditionally. At the end of the month the children had grown so attached to us that on the day we departed, they barred the gate to the school yard and chanted in English, “Don’t Leave” over and over again until it slurred into something unintelligible.
My hope is to one day return to Romania to see my family at Living Hope and the children in Razboieni once again. When we first arrived in Pitesti we cleared a field behind the church of weeds and rocks and planted grass seed to create a place for a park.
At the end of our month the field was verdant from the seeds we had planted. If the Lord allows me to return to those beautiful people in the near future, I only hope He will gift me the ability to see growth from some of the seeds that were planted this past month, and allow me the opportunity to continue sowing more.
To my beautiful brothers and sisters (and Mama G) at Living Hope: Thank you for all of your love, kindness, and friendship. I hope to see you again soon!
