Bumpy Roads

A few months ago I started talking to trusted Romanian friends about my desire to purchase a vehicle. I wanted to find a trusted individual to help me out in this process. Once I started mentioning the idea, many people spouted: "Oh, I know a guy" or "My _______(fill in: brother/uncle/cousin/neighbor/dad/best friend's boyfriend) helps people find cars!"  

Other responses include: "Why are you buying a car, aren't you going home (read: America) soon?" To which I would explain that I had moved to Romania with the intent to live here until God tells me to live anyplace else. This was something I thought I had communicated to most people, but I guess it was lost in translation at some point. 

After a couple months I was still no closer to purchasing a vehicle than when I began. My desire to have independent access to the Roma villages continued to be a dream. THEN, (bum, bum, buuum) I went to Brasov and met my wonderful friends Elvis & Katie. Elvis, (yes, that's his real name and he's Romanian) heard of my desire for a vehicle and mentioned that he knew a reliable, Christian guy who helped people purchase used cars from Germany. The idea here is that the used cars in Germany are in better condition than used cars in Romania. I feel confident in the accuracy of this concept given my experiences on both German and Romanian roads. I know that my own body was in better condition after German roads. 

This creative complaint could be executed on most Romanian roads
and has occasionally resulted in repair of such roads. 

I was perked a bit by Elvis' good recommendation. I trusted his advice and I knew that he wouldn't send me to someone he didn't trust himself. After a week or so, we started talking more about what I wanted in a vehicle. Then I started receiving e-mails from the car guy. We've been looking at models and trying to narrow things down and find a good balance of the aspects I find important and necessary with a reasonable price and tax. It's all been a bit dizzying, but I'm starting to figure this system out. I've mastered searching the online database, in Romanian none-the-less. You can change the page to English, but I find the Romanian version to have more specific search criteria. So, in the process I'm learning some Romanian vehicle vocabulary. 

At the same time I'm figuring things out, I continue to be a bit overwhelmed. There are so many options and so many aspects to consider. I also find it a bit staggering to spend so much money on any one object. My last car was $900 and lasted over 6 years and 80,000 miles! I know that would never repeat even in America. 

So, I keep searching, praying for wisdom, and asking trusted friends and family for advice. There are times I get overwhelmed with the advice and have to take a step back. Everyone seems to have solid opinions, but they are all different opinions! I am so very thankful for my friend Elvis and his consistent help through this whole process. I probably would have just given up if it weren't for him.

All this to say: I hope to find myself the owner of a vehicle in the next month. I hope to make a smart and wise decision. I hope for God's peace in the purchase of a vehicle. I'm praying against buyer's remorse (I'm just not sure I can handle that!) Maybe one day soon I'll make it through this bumpy road of car purchasing decisions and be posting about my new set of wheels. Then will come the stories of my trips to the villages and places I couldn't freely access before! 

Mercy in Sabolciu

So, today I got peed on. That's right someone else's urine on me. 

Thankfully, it was only a tiny baby. She couldn't get me too wet. You see, in the villages the babies rarely have diapers. Diapers are very expensive in RO and not a priority for most of the Roma families. This afternoon, when I asked a mother if I could hold her little baby I had no idea the prize in store for me. It was instant, as if she was just waiting to be in my arms to let it out. Her mom figured it out about the same time I did. The mother simply scooped her back up and took her home to change her pants. As I handed the little one over I discovered the wet circle right in the middle of my blue t-shirt. We had only arrived a few minutes earlier, so I still had a while to go before I could change my shirt. I just continued on as if nothing had happened. This is my life. A short while later, the kind mother returned with her little girl in dry pants. I got to hold her again, along with her older brother who was already occupying my lap. This time we stayed dry until she was hungry and had to go back to mommy. 

That was my funny story for the day...here's what else happened: 

Every Sunday we attempt to have a kids program in the village while the adults have church. The kids tend to just spend the church service walking in and out or generally creating commotion during church. So, we're trying to create a better environment for everyone. The only problem is our lack of control with the kids. They really just don't listen. Today consisted of trying to talk over all the kids simultaneously talking. When we try to get their attention there is generally a lot of ignoring that occurs. When that doesn't work, we just tell the kids to all yell at the top of their lungs. Then someone holds up their fingers and counts to three. The theory is everyone will stop at the count of three. The reality is half the kids keep screaming and we have to count to three about five times in order to get them all to stop screaming. That was about how this afternoon went. 

So, we muddled through another day with those uncontrollable kids. The strange part is: we still love them; we still want to go back. Even though we often walk away discouraged, we keep going back. We keep loving those kids. We keep trying to show them Jesus. 

Seriously, who am I to say they've had too many chances!?!?  Praise the Lord, He doesn't count my chances and tell me when I've ran out! He doesn't walk away and throw His hands up at my stubbornness. He doesn't give up showing me His love, even when I'm talking, yelling and looking every way but His. He never tells me "no" when I seek His forgiveness. He desires repentance for His children, but His love is never diminished. His mercy flows like a river over all my sins. He doesn't give up on me. By God's strength I won't give up on that wild bunch of kiddos! 

This seems to be a common thread in what God has been teaching me lately. When I get discouraged, frustrated or hurt by the people around me, He usually quietly reminds me of His great forgiveness for me. It's my humble reminder that I have no business withholding forgiveness from ANYONE! I have no reason not to extend mercy and grace each day to whomever I interact with. The mercy He has poured out on my life and continues to provide each morning is more than enough. I don't deserve it. I can't earn it. I simply accept it, this life-giving mercy. 

Reminds me of a song: 

Mercy is falling is falling is falling

Mercy is falling like a sweet spring rain

Mercy is falling is falling all over me 

What if I Stumble...

The other day I got the writing itch and picked up my journal. The result isn't a wonderful account of my recent ministry. Rather, it's an honest picture of the struggles I face, the mistakes I make and the ways I am in desperate need of the mercy, forgiveness and strength of my Savior. If you're still up for it, read on.

There are some aspects of this new life I live here in RO that cause me to question. I question myself. I question the human race. I even question my God; although I trust Him fully, I don't always understand His ways. Then I usually question myself again.

Nearly everyday I walk down the street from my apartment, headed out for the day, and I see a woman digging through the garbage. It's the same woman each time. She has a system, and it's a habit. Every time I walk by her I face this inward turmoil. I want to ask her name and find out how she ended up in this place. My heart longs to know her story. Part of my mind/heart inwardly face-palms every morning thinking: "I should bring her a sandwich and buy her a bottle of water." But I question my ability to speak to her and explain WHY in my broken Romanian. Horrid excuse! And I keep walking disgusted with myself. I walk on to my "ministry" for the day and walk right past the need.

What kind of selfish person am I, to decide it's too uncomfortable to reach out to her, someone in such obvious need. I just keep wondering about her life. Maybe she grew up her whole life like this, like those kids I see going around with their parents digging through dumpsters. OR, maybe she used to have enough. Maybe she was left, abandoned, rejected and now this is the only way she knows how to survive. I hate myself for not doing anything, for just walking by each day. I don't believe myself when I think: "maybe tomorrow..." What a wretched soul I am. God help me surrender my selfishness and let your love truly abide in me, so that when I see those needs, I WILL choose to help.

There's another woman who lives in my neighborhood. I see her limping along the sidewalks and sometimes on the tram. She has a prosthetic leg. She is well dressed and probably in her 50s. I've seen her carrying groceries home, limping along with a mixture of pain, pride and determination painted on her face. I want to ask if I can help her. I could carry her groceries. Yet, I don't want to offend her. I use the excuse that I'm still sorting out this culture that I feel is so stiff around strangers. Another horrid excuse!

Walking through the streets here often confuses me. In this city people walk around without acknowledging one another. When you pass someone in the street, it is unusual to smile or say hello. Sometimes people stare, but they're just looking. It's different if you know someone, but largely people walk around with blank faces, as if they were the only people on the sidewalk. People sit on the tram and ride across town without saying a word or even smiling to the people beside them.

I'm from small town Kansas. We wave and smile at EVERYONE! When you drive by someone you usually wave, or at the very least raise an index finder in salut. We say friendly hellos as we walk down the sidewalk, even to people we've never seen before. However, my "normal" is strange here. There are days though, that I walk down the street and the challenge, "treat everyone you meet today like Jesus" pops into my head. That usually zaps me out of my tunnel vision and back into reality. I start seeing REAL people around me. I sometimes smile or say hello. Yes, I get weird looks. No, they don't always smile back. Yet, when I begin to think how Jesus treated the people He met while walking on this earth, I wake up.

I'm still figuring things out here. I'm still confused some days. I'm still learning. Through it all I'm so thankful for my Savior who walks these streets with me. I'm thankful that His mercy is great enough to forgive me when I walk by and do nothing. I'm thankful that He will keep working in me until I DO help those people He has placed in my path.

There's nothing about me that's perfect or even good. The only good in me is from Jesus. Living here has revealed my selfish nature. I'm desperate for the forgiveness of my Savior. I long for the Holy Spirit to abide in my and create in me something that might honor my Heavenly Father.  So, here I am: a broken, selfish girl who is loved by a perfect Savior. I don't deserve it. I can't earn it, but He loves me. No matter how much I mess up, He will never forsake me. So, I'll keep running back to Him, asking Him to teach me how to love my neighbor as myself and how to love Him with all my heart, soul, mind and strength.