In the midst of all that is going on here in Arad, I want to take this time to focus on a section of my team that really deserves some praise. Even though each person on my team has shown me and the people around us the love of Christ in the most tangible way, I want to shine the spotlight on these men of mine.
However, first, I would like to provide you with a few facts.
-In the world today, greater than 2/3 of all missionaries are women-
-The ratio of female World Racers compared to male World Racers is about 3 to 1-
-Worldwide, places that need the Gospel the most are physically, emotionally, and spiritually the most difficult they have ever been-
What I find most heartbreaking about this is that, even though I consider myself a pretty independant woman, there are sometimes when men are simply needed. Before The World Race, I had rather pictured this kind of need manifesting in tough construction work and the like. However, since being out here, my heart has been torn to shreds by the love with which these men lead. I can honestly say that it has thusfar been an inconceivable blessing to be able to watch these men in action.
Each one of them opens up their complete time, attention, love, and ministry to tiny, fragile children. I don’t know how many wrestling matches I’ve seen Don and Anthony lose, or how many times they willingly accept a rematch, even when they are tired. Countless times I’ve walked in the play room and they’ve had children of all ages clinging to them, physically and emotionally, and drinking in every word they say like the most expensive wine. I don’t know how many times I’ve seen my squad leader, Aaron (who is part of our team this month) gently lead little girls by the hand through a crowd, race with them even when his own leg is hurting tremendously, and set them on his lap and talk to them as if they were the only person in the room.
I admit, in a completely stereotypical way, I expected the females to plant their roots deep in the heart of these children, hold them every second, sing to them, play with them, and hold captive their full, undivided attention. This is not a downplay to my girls, because they actually have been this to the children, but we all agree unanimously that all of the kids have gravitated towards the men in our group.
The children that live at Shalom house are not “orphan” children by the normal context, rather, they are abandoned children. Many come from poor families that are unwilling or unable to take care of them. They are all Gypsy by descent, meaning that here in Romania, they face daily discrimination and prejudice. Many of them will struggle to find any kind of good job in the future, and many will struggle with even having a future. The saddest part of all of this is that (and I’m not lying when I say this) these children are naturally good at everything. They can sing, play sports, speak many languages, do gymnastics, tell funny stories… They are naturals at everything they attempt. Yet sadly, they never get the opportunity to have a father figure in their lives, because so many of the staff at Oaza are house mothers (who do fantastic work), yet nonetheless, they lack a huge place in their lives when it comes to male role models.
Many of these precious, beautiful, talented children will never have a father who will take them to futbol games, who will encourage their art, who will acknowledge their singing, or who will show them Jesus. Many, if not all, of the kids at Oaza (Romanian for, “Oasis”) would currently be living in abusive or neglectful homes, clothed with rags on their backs, and sleeping in gutters and alleys if not for this amazing institution.
This month, I have seen children with a deep-seated need for a father figure. And I have seen men that have stood up, left comfortable homes, jobs, and loving families, to meet the need of forgotten children a world away. Sometimes I have to hold back tears when I see our smallest child at Oaza, Alex, come to life around Anthony. I have seen a seven-year-old Gypsy child speak with New York vernacular, learn elaborate handshakes, and even gel his hair and dress like the man he idolizes above all others.
Sometimes I get emotional when I see how the teenage guys throw their arms around Don, sometimes even laying their heads on his shoulder (In a very manly way) just because they have never had a loving male role model who would allow it. I get the same feeling when I see him swarmed by little girls who want him to push them on the swings, throw the football back and forth, or just ride on his shoulders around the yard.
And every know and then, I am blown away by how gently Aaron treats the little girls in the house. Whether it’s wrapt attention around the littlest thing they want to talk about, a tender flick on the nose and a pet name, or a hand to firmly hold onto in a busy public place, my squad leader has personified the way I imagine Jesus treated the little children he bade come to Him.
And sometimes, I get a little overwhelmed when I think of my own father, God rest Him, who did all of those things for me. I remember how much my own daddy taught me, from learning how to draw pigs made of the letter “M” to riding my tricycle, and how much those foundational moments developed the person I am today.
Because then I think, when Alex is older and has a family, when Mihai and Tsu-tsu grow up and get married, when Patri and Voike have children of their own, they can tell them…
“When I was your age, a person named Anthony came and tucked me into bed every night, told me stories about Jesus, and sang to me until I fell asleep…”
“I never knew what it was like to have a man who would hug me whenever I wanted, until I met Don…”
“When I was a little girl, Aaron showed me how a real man should treat those weaker than him, and now I know how to treat others, too.”
So even though we’ve flit into these children’s lives for a very short time, impacts have been made that will last longer than we can imagine. All because some Real Men of God have become tired of sidelines love and jumped headfirst into the real thing. Just as I had memories with my own father that have made me who I am, these children will be molded by the time that our men have spent with them.
And now, Man of God, what are you going to do about it? What seems so hard about mission work that you can’t pull yourself away? What has become so big in your life that it eclipses God’s call to love the lonely and forgotten? Do you even know that you are the will of God in this world? You are equipped. You are empowered by God’s Holy Spirit.
What’s so hard about tucking kids in, playing futbol, and loving till it hurts? What makes you think that these men are more ready than you are? What makes you think you can’t do this? The world is full of children dying for one second of your love and attention.
These men with me are not superhuman, neither superchristian.
Aaron is a Mexican-German wrestler and Southern Gentleman from Georgia who teaches Spanish at a high school and plays a mean guitar.
Anthony is an Italian kid from Buffalo, New York, who excels in street dancing and sports, has been in and out of addiction, and sold Kirby vaccuum cleaners.
Don is a white guy from Philly who grew up with lots of sisters, studied journalism, and became a sports reporter for a Pennsylvania newspaper.
But to a few forgotten children in Romania, they are the world.
