As part of my team’s ministry this month, we’ve decided that one person from the team will stay behind every day to help our Romanian Mama, Rita, with the cooking and other household chores. Since we are an additional seven mouths to feed this month, we thought it would be good to help out.
So on this particular day, I decided to stay behind. I was recovering from a sore throat and thought a nice day at home would be just what I need, you know, to take it easy. (On a side note, the home we are staying in this month is so cozy–it could possibly be my favorite accomodations of the race yet. We have an entire loft, of what feels like a log cabin, all to ourselves. I have my own bed, and get this–WITH COMFORTER! So nice. And on cool days, they make a fire in their wood-burning stove, which is so cozy.)
Okay, so remember the part where I said “a nice day at home…to take it easy?” Well, I came down stairs and was greeted by Rita, who reached out a gave me a big hug. You see, Rita is full Romanian, and her husband, Sondua is Gypsy.They are our contacts this month and are heading up Gypsy Agape, the organization we are working with this month. Anyway, Rita is learning English and isn’t extrememly confident in her English-speaking skills yet, so we try to encourage her, because she truly is doing great. ANYWAY, after our hug, she looked at me and said, “You pick beans.” “Sure, okay, what exactly does that mean,” I asked. Before this request, I had not seen a garden that had beans, so I wasn’t exactly sure where we’d be picking these beans from. “We go,” and then with a hand holding up four fingers, “four.” “Oh, at four, we go?” (I should warn you, my English has gotten perpetually worse over the months, the more I have to break it down, so I can be understood. If I come home shouting at you, in broken English, please don’t be too alarmed, I don’t expect it to last long, let’s hope.)
After some translating, with the use of my trusted translators, the children, I found out that we were to go and pick beans until four in the afternoon. I was then handed a plastic bag and rushed out the door. One of the Aunts motioned for me to follow her, another Aunt followed me, and Rita behind her. For a second I thought, this will be interesting…we really can’t communicate with one another…hmm. Then my two little saving graces, Lacy & Benny jumped out from around the corner and ran to catch up with me. Phew, my translators. All will be well.
We walked down the road toward the church, where their second garden is. After entering the gate, Rita turned to me and said, “Okay, you pick beans now.” Easy enough instructions, if I weren’t staring at a corn field. “Umm…I must be missing something,” I thought.As we approached the corn, they showed me how the bean stalks were wrapped around the corn stalks and growing throughout. Ahhhh, okay. Good to go now. I watched carefully, we were to only pick the dry, yellow pods. So I slipped my plastic bag over my arm and went to work.
I got deeper and deeper into the corn before I even realized it. It was nice to have time to just think and pray though. And at one point I stopped to thank God. God, you knew I wanted to go in a corn maze this year, and I was bummed because I didn’t think it was going to happen…but not anymore. I’m in a self-made, corn maze. You are too funny, God! Then I laughed some more, because another fall tradition, aside from corn mazes, that I love, is visiting cider mills and picking apples. Although they weren’t apples we were picking, I was still picking something. I’ll take it!
Lacy, their eleven year old son, who is full of life and ALL BOY, comes over to me at one point, looks in my bag and says, “So little.” “I know, I know, I’m not fast at this,” I told him. And then we both laughed. Benny, their six year old son, decided he would help me out though, and he picked a few to put in my bag. It was so sweet. I think I contributed a bag and a half, while the other ladies put in about three…I’m hoping to amp up my game the next time.
So yet again, I found myself doing something I never thought I’d be doing–getting stuck in the corn, laughing with Rita, the Aunts and the kids, while picking beans. I came home with leaves and bean pods (oddly enough) stuck in my hair. My arms were a little cut up, and I was a bit itchy, but all-in-all, it was a fun afternoon. Although not much was said between me and the ladies, I’m glad we had that time together and those laughs. And it was all for the sake of bean soup, which, I might add, we all enjoyed.
