These train tracks tempt me to nod into a dreamy sleep, but the world outside and the thoughts within distract me from doing so. Why live life in a delirious state behind closed eyelids when I can soak it in through color and cold outside?
I lack words. To put the last five days into sentence form has been my challenge for the last forty-eight hours. Which may not seem like long, but for a writer, is an eternity. The moment will soon be gone, hurry up and document it! my pen screams. The month is coming to an end and my dad is already back home after a week of whirlwind.
I want to write about PVT (parent vision trip). I want to tell you about the incredible things I saw in my dad and learned about him. I want to walk you through the last couple weeks of living in Draganesti Olt, a village town that desperately needs Jesus.
I don’t feel like I can. Because what’s really on my heart right now is you. You.
If you had the time, money, accessibility to sit in this train car with me, would you? Would you tell me your story as I barrage you with questions and try to soak in every detail? Would you get giddy with me and shriek at the beauty of the mountains we’re traveling into right now? I wish you would.
People are perhaps the most fascinating creation on this earth. In fact, yes. They are. Also the most complex and confusing. People hurt me, love me, make me feel accepted, bring out my insecurities, wear masks sometimes, tempt me to put on my own masks (and sometimes succeed), exhaust me, and breathe the same air I do. And each person has a story—a broken but beautiful one; a book that is capable of being a life-long series through redemption and grace.
So to walk you through the last month, I would need to introduce you to people. My dad (more to come); parents of my squadmates who immediately felt like family; half Romanian, half German children who somehow won me over even after screaming “Nine!” repeatedly and hitting me; and shrunken old Romanian women with missing teeth and warts on their faces. There is so much beauty in each person, is there not? Do you see it?
These people and more I would love to share about, and maybe eventually my heart will catch up and I’ll write about them. Here in this space I want to introduce to you a girl who I’ll never know, a story I’ll never hear, but a soul I saw.
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[February 15. Corabia, Romania]
She was there everyday. Multiple times. Each trip we made to the grocery store, she’d either already be standing there or run up to greet us from a hidden part of the street. Always wearing the same pink hat, dirtied coat and pleading smile.
“How are you?” we’d ask in Romanian. “Bine,” she’d respond and then proceed to ask for money. Sometimes one of us would give her a snack, but mostly hugs and high pitched happy greetings were all we could muster. A few times I was tempted to hand over a leu or two, but mostly I would be immersed in my own thoughts and concerns to care beyond the first hug from her.
Today was the last time I’ll ever see her. I don’t know her name or age. But I know her beauty. And I know she is worth far more than the beggar’s plea that has become her prayer and her identity.
She’s a princess. Does she know that? She’s absolutely captivating, a captivation far beyond monetary value. The cookie I bought her doesn’t do any justice: not her stomach pangs, not her eternal joy.
I hope someday she’ll know. That pink is her color. That she has a purpose. That her prayer is heard.
I do hope.
—
Don’t be like me and just hope she’ll be heard. Ask questions, look past the arrogant response or the unmet eye contact and see the pain and desire to be known. We all have that hole inside of us.
This one’s for you. Because you’re fascinating.
I’ll meet you at the end of the tracks.
