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Published: August 6th 2006
Eyes Are Watching You!
I thought that the Sibiu rooftops looked like they had eyes wathing over the city below. For some reason the day seemed really long which ıs odd because I managed to keep myself busy for most of ıt. I have gotten to know the Amerıcan Team a lıttle better and I just love them. The team ranges ın age and personality but every sıngle one of them ıs so genuine and fun.
The highlight of the day was probably craft tıme, when the team taught the gırls how to weave baskets. The Project was really hard for some of the kıds and a few of the baskets ended up lookıng more lıke bird’s nests, but they were proud of what they had finished. Iulıa sat by me at crafts and at fırst was really frustrated wıth the weavıng. I just kept repeating the pattern and lettıng her try untıl she felt confident enough to take ıt away on her own. The end result was perfect- probably better than what I could have done. I would look over
and praise her and she would pretend to be so focused that she dıdn't hear me but I know she was soakıng ıt all ın. When she had finished her work, she was so proud. However, later I saw her kıckıng the basket around lıke a soccer ball out ın the play fıeld. She ıs growing ever so attached though and constantly huggıng me, holdıng my hand, and even gıvıng me lıttle kısses on the cheek. Sometımes I fınd that she has been waıtıng outsıde of my dorm a long tıme after she had seen me go ın, wıth hopes to exchange a few words or grab onto me. She had another explosion today because someone had made her mad. It seems that her anger ıs torturous even to herself- as ıf she hates her own reactions but can't fınd her way free from them.
Marıa, a tall lengthy gırl who hıkes up her polyester shorts abover her navel, ıs an angel. She stays after every meal and helps out wıth cleanıng. She enjoys stackıng the tables on top of each other and wıll literally take the broom out of your hands. She does all of thıs wıth the
most sıncere and humble intensions- never bossy or ın a manner that would draw attention. Any thanks we gıve her ıs met wıth the slightest of smiles and a tıny glımmer of her hollow deep eyes. I wısh that she would take more satisfaction from our praıse but she ıs unusually serious and stoic. Actually when I thınk about ıt, she ıs one of the fınest examples of servanthood I have ever seen. Her humility ıs so genuine that ıt almost makes me feel almost ınferıor. What ıf I were focussed enough to always look for the opportunıty to help others? What ıf I were to take the broom of burden from someone else's hands? I know thıs lıttle gırl has done a lot ın her lıfe that has not been recognized yet she perseveres ın her servanthood.
THURSDAY We spent most of the day at the warehouse several miles away. A container with a shipment of donations had finally arrived from the States, and our job was to unload the shipping container. The donations ranged from adult diapers to wheel chairs, and it was a marvel to see the amount of objects that had been procured. Heart of
Hope works closely with Northwest Medical Teams, another well known and larger non-profit based out of the Pacific Northwest. Some of the procurements will be used by their teams, while other items, such as a year’s supply of toilet paper, pillows, and hygiene items will be directly used by Heart of Hope Ministries.
We arrived back at camp sweaty and smelly. I had never imagined Romania would be so humid! No matter if it is hot or cold, the humidity lingers everywhere! When we mop a floor, we have to take a towel to it afterwards, otherwise it would never dry. Getting into bed at night feels like tucking yourself under wet sheets.
The girls are getting more and more attached to us, as we in return, fall in love with them. Iulia gave me a necklace yesterday, though I have no idea how she got it in the first place. These kids have nothing except the clothes on their backs. Wearing their clothes over and over in the heat and humidity makes for some interesting odors- especially added to their adolescent age and the unavailability of deodorant. The other day Heather was doing a load of their
Abandon Building
Buildings like this one are everywhere. My sister would classify this as an "eye sore". laundry, and when she dumped the clothes into the washer, we were overcome with a putrid odor that is beyond explanation. It filled the room we were in and ran us out.
Heather and Melissa, the interns from southern Washington, are incredible. The more I get to know them, the more I see what unstoppable spirits they have. I really hope to stay in contact with them.
Today was also Tracy’s birthday. Tracy is a woman on the American team. She has come here on a team for the past four years, every time, sacrificing her birthday celebrations with her family back home. We gave her little gifts and Halie and Kenny (also Americans) toasted some bread and slathered it with Funetti- a sinfully yummy Romanian chocolate and hazelnut spread that we have all grown quickly addicted to.
I’ve been thinking a lot today about all that we have been able to see so far and I’m still not quite sure what to make of it. There is so much need here, so many people that have been conveniently forgotten. Romania is just beginning to address its elephant in the corner, their forgotten children. What will happen
Man Sleeping with his head on his leg
This homeless man used his prosthetic leg as a pillow in the park. to these girls that no one has ever acknowledged or claimed? They will continue to be abused by the streets, prostitution, abusive relationships, hunger, and the stereotypes that go along with being an orphan. Unless they are picked up by organizations like Heart of Hope this is almost certainly their destiny.
I’ve realized how judgmental I have been. It is so easy to judge others who live their lives in ways that I deem ungodly, unclean, unlady-like. It is easy to come from my home life and education and wealthy country and point a finger at others, both here and at home. How self-righteous I have been! When someone is given nothing, neither materially nor emotionally, how can they be expected to know how to give this back? I see firsthand that living a life that lacks love breeds desperation. Desperation can make humans function at a base level, in which there is no obligation to community- there is only survival. When an entire community has turned their backs on a person in need, the result is a not beneficial. Here I have seen an entire community turn its back on a generation. What will be the aftershocks of this
behavior for the nation’s economy, for their leadership?
The hugeness of the situation sends shivers down my spine.
FRIDAY “Can you imagine if Christians actually believed that God was trying to rescue us from the pit of our own self-addiction? Can you imagine? Can you imagine what Americans would do if they understood that over half the world was living in poverty? Do you think they would change the way they live, the products they purchase, and the politicians they elect? If we believed the right things, the true things, there wouldn’t be very many problems on earth.” -Donald Miller from his book, "Blue Like Jazz”
I read this paragraph last night and felt that the author had jumped into my brain and taken down my thoughts on paper! Miller was writing about exactly the things I have been thinking about.
But why is it so difficult to do what we know we should?
Feeding the poor, for instance…
I understand that when Jesus said that his followers should feed the hungry, he meant it literally. But I think hunger provides a means to fill a deeper void than just the belly. Griff and I have found
Melissa the Sniffer
Melissa and Heather have all the fun jobs! I guess that's what you get after working your way up after years of volunteering! Those sleeping bags being passed through the winow? M and H have to SMELL them all to see if they are clean! I won't go into detail, but I was glad to be watching and not sniffing! this to be true as backpackers. Unless you are ready to start up a conversation with someone, do not offer them food. Humans take sharing of sustenance as a sign of acceptance. I can’t remember a time when I have offered anyone- ayone- food and they have taken it and just run off. Snacks are a gift, symbolizing your concern for another’s basic needs. It is silly sounding, but true.
Meal time here at camp is something else. There are girls with horrific manners, lots of hoarders, guzzlers, and stuffers. The aspect of sitting at a table with five others is also an interesting study in social behavior. Some girls always sit together, while some are left alone, searching for the last empty seat. A few girls scare away the others like the plague, threatening them to sit somewhere else! Again, the smell of so many sweaty, adolescent girls mixed with the smell of unfamiliar food is an exercise in tolerance. However, as the volunteers sit alongside the campers, we pick up on so much that cannot be observed during their play. The child with bloody nubs for fingernails, the girl who sneaks pieces of dry bread under her shirt for later, the ones with cut marks on their arms, bags under their eyes, or who lack an appetite.
I think when Jesus called us to feed the hungry; he was providing us with an “easy in”. He was allowing us the opportunity to observe and serve. Meals are God’s ice-breakers, the cut through the awkwardness that often impedes us from speaking to one another, from loving each other.
Who do we share with? Who do we feed and clothe? Do we care only for those living under our roofs? Certainly our families should be our first priority, but are we teaching our families to live just lives when we close off the rest of the world from our table? I know that a parent wants to provide their children with the best and most comfortable life as possible, but is this truly God’s intention for us? Perhaps the “best life possible” means much more than provision of monetary things. Maybe it involves exposure to life outside of our picket fences and educating them about taking action and being bold enough to be the voice of the voiceless.
Griff and I have been on the fence as to whether or not we want our own children. My struggle has been between wanting a family and raising a family in a nation which I do not agree with many of its values. We don’t even believe in many of the ideals presented in a lot of the churches in America! (There, I said it!) We have stayed from the message of the humble man on whose teachings our nation was supposedly founded upon. We have strayed away from loving each other. We have been deceived into thinking that things like debating gay marriage, pre-trib or post-trib, worshiping on Sunday or Saturday, the length of a person’s skirt or hair are more important than the message of compassion and unconditional love.
Today Iulia was under the weather. During breakfast and lunch she sought me out and quickly grabbed the chair next to me. I noticed the long, white whips of scar tissue on the underside of her arm. I watched her get upset at Bianca for taking two slices of bread and not eating them. I felt her get angry at one point as she began to cross herself frantically, which she habitually does during and before her fits of rage. I called her to my side, held her hand, and just let her be. I willed my love for her out of my heart, through my skin, out of my fingertips and into her hand. I could feel the anger drip out of her body, and eventually she smiled a crooked confused smile. Iulia needs love. She has always needed it, but no one was there to give it to her. Iulia and millions of other people have never truly been loved. What an opportunity for those of us who have, to pass on what has saved us; love. Lunch time gave me the moment I needed to give Iulia a little bit of what I have been given. I have a lot more I can give- don't we all?
Griff has been working every day on repairs and renovations. I am not nearly as crucial here. But the embraces I am allowed to give, the kisses on top of a head I have bestowed, the dozens of grimy hands I have held give me some sort of hope. An itsy bitsy sliver of hope that makes me want to believe that these girls will remember that once, at this summer camp, someone loved them. It’s not so much my face or my name I care that they remember, it is the feeling I want them to lock away some place safe so that they can take it out on their rainy days.
I initially thought that their disabilities would be a prevalent part of this week, but I was very wrong. I can only see their broken hearts; their broken minds and bodies do not play into the equation anymore.
SATURDAY It’s not really Saturday, it’s Friday. It has been just about a week since camp ended. I wrote my heading beforehand and have not been able to make myself sit down and write everything out. I thought that chewing on the experience for a while might give me more insight, might enlighten me. I guess I was wrong.
The longer I am away from the girls, the more I am troubled. Not being able to put my arm around them makes me feel desperate, makes me feel sad. I have been on about a gazillion mission trips. I have traveled all over the world. I have seen hundreds of thousands of poor people, their surroundings, their desperation. It never becomes old and it never becomes easy, and I pray to God that it never will. However, my time in Romania with these forgotten orphans keeps nagging at my morality and it itches like crazy somewhere deep inside my chest. Romania is soon to become a part of the E.U. which greatly disturbs me. I have spoken with many people, including a girl I met on the train. She is from Romania’s southern neighbor, Bulgaria. She said the exact same thing that our new friends at the foundation had told us. She said that the government is working with percentages. Numbers on a spreadsheet make it appear that Romania and Bulgaria are on the up and up- that they are wonderful places to live, work, and invest in. The latter might actually be true, but by simply looking out the window from our train car, you would have to be extremely naïve to believe that the numbers are testimony to the truth. Condemned buildings are everywhere. Square, ugly, cement buildings from the Soviet Era are pretty much the only buildings which are not in need of a lot of renovations. Gypsies still roam the streets and sleep in parking lots. The elderly with scarves wrapped around their gray hair are used to wearing clothes with holes, stains, and missing buttons. Most village children are dirty, lice infested and lack access to life’s basic necessities like clean water and electricity. Life in Romania is far from a first-world level. I think admission into the Union will be beneficial in the long run of Romania’s economy, at least I hope so. But once they have joined forces with the wealthy, I fear that Romania’s orphans will be even more overlooked. People do not look to be missionaries, to start non-profits, or to volunteer in places that appear to lack little. The rate at which children are being orphaned is not slowing down. The government already does not cooperate well with organizations like Heart of Hope- if they were to support humanitarian groups it would be acknowledging their downfall to take care of their own.
I can’t believe Debbie. It’s not so much the good deeds she does, because there are a lot of people capable of being nice and having compassion. I can’t understand how she sticks with it. I asked myself over and over again if I could do what she is doing, and I honestly think I would have given up by now. The government is one of her primary opposers. The system that she tries to work within is still so broken. There are children that she will never be able to reach, that she will never be able to save. How can you be beaten down again and again and get back up every time? In situations where I would throw my hands up in surrender, she throws them up with fists.
I don’t know how Griff and I fit within the workings of this group of people with unending dedication, but I do know that we will continue to be huge supporters of their work, in whatever capacity we can. We were brought to this country, and these children were gifted to us for a week. They have changed our lives, inspired us, and yet somehow they also haunt us. We have touched and held and loved these children. We have committed their smiles, their tears, their rages to our memories. We have seen the ones who have been saved by Heart of Hope, the ones who inspire us. I want to scream from the tippy-top of the world, I want to whisper what I have seen into the ears of every slumbering person. I want my words to be the source of bad dreams and night terrors. Romania’s orphans should disturb people, their stories should sour the stomachs of everyone who has caught word of their histories and their futures.
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My words can’t do justice to the hurts that these children have endured. My writing about them won’t stop them from rocking, or crying or raging. Our experience and the time we spent with them might not have brought them enduring peace, but hopefully it has disturbed yours.
Now you know. Now, like us, you cannot claim naivety as an excuse for not acting. Now it is your job to spread the word, to be the voice of these voiceless orphans. Tell of this injustice to your friends. Make it a regular topic of discussion in your prayer groups and Bible studies. Teach about it. Explain the situation to your children. Tell your parents about the Romanians… tell anyone who will listen about the lost and lightless children in Romania. Please, please do not just shake your head in wonder and walk away from your computer. These children deserve more than that.
I believe that knowledge is indeed powe, well...
potentialpower- sorta like potential energy. It sits in the creases of your brain and rests there until you decide to do something with it. Like potential energy, it has potential impact. Of course kinetic knowledge is much more powerful than its sleepy partner. It does more than just reside amongst your mass of gray matter. It moves through your brain, pulses through your blood, and stops for a heavy rest in your heart. Kinetic knowledge moves one into action. Both types of knowledge are needed for change, though the latter has been known to cause revolutions.
I recognize that it is harder for you. I acknowledge that words on a screen are much less powerful than holding a hand or exchanging a smile. But try. Can you trust us and our experience enough to make these children a real priority in your thoughts and prayers and actions? I hope so, because there is not many who will.
Please check out Heart of Hope’s mission at www.heartofhope.org. This site gives you the opportunity to learn a little more about the work and foundation of the organization, and to sign up for the H.O.H.’s updates. The site also provides you with the opportunity to make a contribution or to even sponsor a child in one of their transition homes. (We have seen the result of some of the young women who are now in this program and it truly is an amazing success.)
If you have any questions about our interactions with Heart of Hope and the children they serve, please feel free to email us. ISA 1:17 learn to do right! Seek justice, encourage the oppressed. Defend
the cause of the fatherless, plead the case of the widow.
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Dana
non-member comment
Hy,
Hei I miss you and I like the pictures.I hope you are ok.I think of you and I remember all what wee doing in Romania. God bless you. Love you Dana