On our second night of ministering in Gypsy communities, we traveled to a village not far from Vidin. When we got to the church there was a change of plans. The associational pastor for the gypsy communities decided to have us do some street evangelism. This began with us walking through the community singing and going into peoples’ homes to pray or offer up words from the Holy Spirit. There were many “blogworthy” moments throughout the evening and I could have easily chosen to write about. The anointing of a head with oil and prayers of healing for a man with a broken neck. Prayers of God’s light to eclipse the black magic that had been placed over a home. The dog fight that occurred behind us during worship. All of these things made for a very eventful evening. But the tiny, elderly, gypsy woman with no teeth made for an unforgettable night.
My team was waiting around for church to begin (church was supposed to begin at 6:00 and started closer to 8:30). We were visiting with the locals, playing with the kids, and speaking words of life to our teammate who was to give the sermon that night. An older woman walked up to us and grabbed my teammate Sarah and myself. She looked me in the eyes and began talking to me. I tried to tell her that I speak very little Bulgarian but she continued to speak with great intention. We prayed over her and she continued talking to us. After about 10 minutes, we were able to catch the eye of our translator. Through our translator, we discovered that the woman’s name was Galina. As it turned out, she was telling us all about her job and her life. She told us about her children, but then went on to say that she did not actually have her own children, but would just take children into her home that did not have parents. Our translator finally looked at us and said, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what she’s talking about. She’s not making sense.”
Well, Sarah and I had a new best friend that night. Everywhere we went, she went with us, holding our hands, hugging and kissing us, and talking to us the whole time. She kept calling our translator over to tell us that we were cute and that she likes us a lot. She kept asking us if we were coming back. She even bought us peach juice boxes. At one point, I looked at Sarah and said, “Do you think we are being adopted?” Sarah was like, “yeah, it looks that way.” Even when the church service was over and we were going to another house to pray, Galina grabbed my hand and walked with me. The associational pastor pulled her away from me and told her to go home. I felt terrible about this. I saw her as just someone who was lonely and just wanted to meet her needs. Galina was truly a blessing upon Sarah and myself. We refer to her as our adoptive grandmother and I am pretty sure she will be the most clear memory as our ministry team moves from Bulgaria in the next couple of weeks.
My adoptive grandmother, Galina.
