My family has some friends from years ago (from the church I grew up in) who have lived there for nearly eight years now. I remember when their family moved there, their purpose being mission work. I didn't think much of it at the time. But now, I've realized that that's the kind of life I will eventually be living- albeit in Africa. I wanted to go to Romania to see how some ministries and organizations that are based there operate. I wanted to see the positive change that is taking place in Romania right now and the hope it is bringing. I wanted to get a feel for what helping other people feels like when it's not done in a third world country. I wanted to help some people and love some people.
It. was. awesome. I held babies who were abandoned. I hugged mentally disabled kids who live in a gross center without much interaction with the outside world. I hung out with twelve girls who were trafficked for prostitution and I talked to the lady who rescued all twelve. I got to show love to some vulnerable women who don't understand what sacrificial love looks like but are learning.
I've realized, since my last blog post, that I get down when I don't feel like I'm helping somewhere. I want to have a purpose in my life, and I want to fulfill that purpose. I want to change things; to pursue justice. Not just while I'm in Africa. But everyday. Because of this, being in Spain has been a challenge. I kind of wrote about this in my last post. I feel like I really am here just for me. I go to school and I take up space on the sidewalks of Seville and I give money to the Spanish economy by buying ice cream every so often. That's what I do. I mean, I do more- I hang out with friends and hopefully am showing them love! But my heart just longs to be doing something that actively pursues justice.
A new friend of mine is similar to me in this way, and he has encouraged me not to idolize the "experience" in life in trying to build legitimacy for myself. To not lose my identity simply because I feel like I don't have a missional purpose at the moment. My identity is not in my experiences, but in Christ. I must be content with where God has me for this time and even be used in this context- which could potentially just be that I should focus on and grow my relationship with Jesus in this "quiet" time of my life.
ANYWAYS, that's not the point of this. Romania! My point in saying all that is to say that spending time in Romania was so refreshing!! I felt useful and I felt like I was learning about things and doing things that promote positive change in the lives of individuals who NEED it. Let me tell you about the details of my nine days there!
Staying at the home of those family friends was so great. They were so generous- I had my own room and free access to their kitchen! I ate cereal (if you don't know this, cereal is one of my favorite foods) and ice cream and chocolate milk and cookies and whole grain bread and I even made a cheese quesadilla. Yum. I know I blog about food a lot, and I knew you guys would be curious... so now that we've got the food update out of the way...
One of my days there, I visited a ministry called Children to Love (basic name, I know, but they really are true to their name)! With them, I went to what they called "rehab" - a center for mentally disabled kids. Most of the kids were at least autistic, and there were other disabilities there that I don't know much about. It was overwhelming (not be confused with "scary") to be there, because as soon as we (it was me and another young woman) walked in, a bunch of kids raced up to us, wanting to hold hands or touch my hair or stare at my blue eyes. They weren't young kids- so they weren't small. That's why it was overwhelming, cause if they got too touchy you couldn't really tell them to stop like you can with a normal kid, you know? But after a little bit I got used to the quirks each kid had and then it wasn't so overwhelming anymore. One girl, for instance, would randomly just SCREAM. But then she'd stop and it was like nothing happened. So I learned quickly to just ignore that behavior because she probably just wanted some reaction! The lady that I went with to this facility brought her guitar, and let me tell you, it was like magic when she started playing it. All the kids in the room immediately stopped wherever they were, and started rocking back and forth, swaying side to side, or any other sort of "dance," if you will. It was really beautiful. They loved it so much. Some tried to sing along, others just were so full of awe that it was like they were in a trance.
For awhile while I was there, I talked to a girl who was really malnourished. She couldn't talk back to me, or understand me for that matter (I spoke a little in English and a little in Spanish... I don't know any Romanian), but she smiled a sweet sweet smile, so I talked to her anyways. I didn't know how old she was, but I could tell she was malnourished by her bony body. I later learned she is 21 years old... my age. You guys, she probably weighed about 55 pounds at most. Breaks my heart. It's interesting how I am drawn to someone like her- it makes me feel more at home, in a way. It reminds me of Africa. I wish I had a photo of her, but they didn't allow cameras in this place, probably for two main reasons- one, the kids would have grabbed at it relentlessly and chances are good it would have left that building broken; and two, they don't want those kids exploited.
Although it was hard and physically and emotionally draining, it was nice to be there. Those kids need to know that they're important and worthy of visitors and hugs and smiles. It's a government run facility... and you can tell. It is sparse and cleaned just as much as it can be to be considered "cleaned," but nothing more. It is understaffed and the staff clearly do not know how to deal with mentally disabled kids... discipline is often just a slap on the head. That was hard to see.
Two of my days, I went to a hospital with a lady from Rock Ministries. They send someone every day of the week to this hospital to care for abandoned babies. There were three babies there when I went, and who were just left there by their parents. Here are their precious little faces:
Florentina, 14 months old.
Sara Maria, 4 months old.
Florin (or Daniel), 8 months old.
The nurses don't spend much time with them, probably for a few reasons:
1. I bet that that hospital is understaffed, just like the rehab facility.
2. The nurses probably have "more important" people to attend to.
3. These babies are gypsy kids... much lower status than Romanians.
It's likely that these kids will have problems when they get older, because lack of human touch and social interaction just causes them to skip critical phases of development. For example, Florentina is 14 months old... she does not walk on her own. She can hold herself up and walk from one place to another ONLY IF she is holding on to something. If you put her down on the floor and put some toys 5 feet away from her, she will not even attempt to crawl or make her way towards them. Chances are good that between the ages of 8 and 11 months, she was in her crib all the time. She didn't have to learn to crawl. She didn't have to learn to be mobile at all. So she just kind of skipped that phase of development. I don't know what this means for her future... I mean, I'm sure she'll walk eventually, but I think she has trust issues (she won't THINK of letting go of the bed to walk even one step towards you like a normal kid that age would), and she might always have those issues because of this time in her life.
Ok this is really long. I didn't mean for that to happen, but there is just so much to share! I went to two women's shelters also... one of which was the most eye-opening thing I did in Romania. I'll divide it up for you though... I will do "Part 2" blog post before Monday! I have to do it before Monday because I am going to Morocco that day (it's our second spring break)! So I don't want to wait till after that to post more about Romania. So be on the look out for part 2, coming soon!
