Reminiscenses, Rabbits, and Rickshaw essays

I always mentally refer to them as 'the Tornado kids."
Thats because whatever room they've been in, it looks like a tornado went through there.
The last time I walked into a room they had subjected to their energy, we found soda spilled on the table and the floor, its carton woefully crunched in the middle of the table; cereal that I had bought for the morning scattered everywhere with the wrappers tossed about, bread crumbs sprinkled around, and various clothes articles dropped here and there. And that was just the kitchen.
Ramona and I took turns snarling while we cleaned up the carnage and tried to figure out what we were going to eat, because our plans for dinner had been scarfed down amidst the sprinkling and spilling and scattering.
However, the three Caba kids did have redeeming qualities. When I saw them next and almost boxed their ears, they all pulled the Compassion Poster Child look and Smiles International grins and cooed their apologies along with offering the small peace offering tokens, promising to be good children. I think there might have even been some flowers involved.
None of them were biologically related yet they all somehow ended up with similar eyes and their voices sounded the same. It was funny because none of them were even from the same ethnicity let alone family. But they all referred to Corina as 'Mami" and all were slightly afraid of the oldest, Ramona (one of my best friends in Romania) and all were high energy, loud, bossy, funny, and had a talent for causing chaos wherever they went but were so sincerely charming and remorseful when caught.
One time when I was there, Sarah was quite put out that I was only staying for a few days. The last time she had seen me I had stayed six months. Corina and Ramona were dissapointed but understood that Mission trips have to be scheduled around the Mission, not the trip, and there weren't any kids at the orphanage or really anything that I could help with other than drinking coffee with Corina and talking and laughing. (Sometimes just reminding people in Ministry that there are level-headed people who don't hate you or aren't out to kill you or swindle you can be very ministering)
Anyway Sarah kept interuppting to ask why I was only staying a few days. My Romanian grammer is awful and my vocabulary comes and goes and often is confused with Hungarian that I also speak when in Transylvania. But the Caba kids were always very patient and, for the most part, pursued understanding with me and didn't manipulate the language barrier to their own ends.
I tried to explain that I was going to college in the fall and needed to go home after working with the Gypsy church plants so I could spend a little more time with my family and make money. The big take away for Sarah was that I needed money. So she scampered off, emptied her piggy bank, and returned with two fistfulls of coinage.
"Is this enough?" She asked, her brown eyes doe-like and pitiful.
Corina explained that I needed DOLLARS, not Romanian coins, and that certainly wasn't enough, please stop interrupting. Sarah sighed and left Corina and I to finish our conversation.
Today I got on Yahoo chat and saw Corina's ID online. I haven't talked with her for a while and hoped it was her online, but it turned out to be her youngest, David.
He wanted me to go Skiing with them after Christmas.
Now skiing in Transylvania sounds like something I would L-O-V-E to do, however not something financially possible at this point in life.
David REALLY really wanted me to come. He even offered to dip into his savings for a new bike and help pay for the ticket.
I thanked him for the generous offer, however the bike fund amounted to about a twentieth of the ticket cost, or simply the fees the airlines charge for checked baggage these days.
He was VERY dissapointed I couldn't use his bike money.
I've been really missing Romania the last few months. The magenta landscapes, the friendly villagers, the curious traditions and mindsets, the beautiful language, the good food, the quaint coffee shops and stores, my friends scattered throughout the countryside.
The trouble has been the last year my family and I have been put through the wringer on several leves. I'm sensing the season of pain is coming to a close, and its left us sort of gasping for a breath. I'm just tired. A couple of people have asked me where I want to go and what I want to do and my answer has been mentally, "Move successfully from survival mode to thrive mode!!!"
Its just been a long season of rearranging priorities and mindsets and worldviews and misunderstandings and clearing up arguments and realizing stuff about myself and trying to repent and mature and apologize and make up and justify or figure out etc.
It would be so nice to go back to the village; the place where Time moves in a circle instead of a line and certain things don't change no matter what. Where I can just wander and observe.
My grades have been slipping the last two semesters and a couple of people have told me I need to slow down. The trouble is my scholarship ends at the end of spring 2012, so I've been trying to decide between continuing the pattern of blasting through or taking it a little more slowly, adding another year, and doing things WELL. Both options have about the same amount of pro's and con's. Its been bugging me for a couple of months now, and there's no clear answer in sight.
All that to say, I'd really like to pack my family up and escape to the land of the Tornado Kids.

Barring that, I'd like my exhaustion towards books to go away so I could get focused on reading for my J-term (the Theology has been a painful blend of infatuation and apathy for me the last week). Or at least finish Elisabeth Elliot's biography on Amy Carmichael - which I've been working on since summer. So far my response to books has been to blithely ignore it and watch DVD episodes of "NCIS" with mom three-at-a-time. ;-)

Anyhoo. It was fun chatting in Romanian with David. Now I need to go find my brother so he can show me which trees on the property need 'wrapped'. Not with Christmas paper, with this guaze-type-stuff designed to keep away rabbits and deer.

Apologies to those who have wanted me to post more regularly on here. However, my attitude towards the written word in general has been one of classic burn-out. The 25-page paper I had to write the last week of school kinda took it out of me for a while. :-)
Will try to do better, however the computer is in high demand as my 16-year-old brother is also trying to finish chemistry homework, and the 10 year old has had multiple research papers to write on Vikings, Copper, and Rickshaws. He's writing 1-page essays and I am highly envious. I have mostly upper-level classes next semester; I'm looking forward to all of them, but I'm also expecting plenty of papers due for them all. And they won't be little piddle-ee-dink one pagers either.

~Princess Ouch~

real live missionaries ...?

See, I didn't consider this a mission trip at all. #1 I'm getting paid. #2 it's in the USA for crying out loud. #3, Missions is 101 ways you realize exactly how much you lack. Working as a camp counselor is one of my top ten ways to get my ego stroked. These kids have star struckedness all over their faces from the second we leaders walk in the room till the second we walk out.
However, the sunday school leader (yes the same one who needed steel-toed boots) confessed at one point in her lesson that she had asked for extra prayer. "I jest had chill-bubs (goosebumps)all over my arms when Pastor announced I'd have real live missionaries in class on Sunday. I mean, who am I to teach THEM anything?" She was referring to camp staff. We all looked at each other like, 'what?'
"Oh don't act so surprised. I mean several of ya'll are in SEMINARY, right?" Anna and I nodded, guilty of the charges, but still didn't see any need to be intimidated.

Out of a cabin of seven girls, ONE knew the story of Esther.
In my cabin of six, none knew the story of Ruth.
Most kids can't tell me the difference between the Old and New Testament. However one little boy explained it this way for me this morning:
"You know. The New Testament is in the Bible, and the Old Testament... is.. well... the other one."

When we tell the kids they must ALL participate or else in the games, at least a handful won't, just because they 'don't wanna.' We tell them their whole group will get punished and they shrug. Doesn't matter. They 'jest don't wanna.' My brain fills with long rants about how our culture has gone down the tubes into individualism and selfishness but I'll spare you at this moment.

So anyways, all that to say that while I still am getting paid and my ego stroked and don't get a stamp in my passport, I'm definately seeing huge needs here in the States. Not that I didn't before, but my brain is wrapping itself around the concept more and more. Kids don't know the difference between the Old and New TEstament. They just know there's "The Bible." HELP!

I still feel called overseas, but I also see huge needs here. So I'm praying about how God wants to use my passion for various cultures, gifts with languages, and skills in making things cross-culturally relevant alongside my burden for my own country.

One more day of camp here, then on Saturday four of us are going to run the 5K (3.1 mile) race with the town and Church. Hehe. Have never run in this kind of race before, although the pastor assures us that we can walk as well as run. Anna and I have been jogging and stretching every night since we signed up. The Pastor wants us to try and come in second place, however I hardly think three days of light jogging and stretching will do much to bring that goal into existance. :-)

~PrincessOuch~

Urban Missions

Okay today I've done something I have never ever ever in my entire life done before ever:
I gave my toes a french manicure.
well, an amateur version anyway.
Yeah, I painted my toe-nails, and then painted the white line across the top. Whoop-dee-doo.
You have to understand, doing girly things like painting my nails and spending hours on my make-up or hair has never been a concern for me. I just started using hair-spray correctly and on a regular basis last semester.
So I'm not sure what exactly overcame me that I was suddenly seized with the wild impulse to make my feet pleasing to the eye. I've been wearing flip-flops around campus, which might be part of it, but I have never cared what my feet looked like. Hey I guess this 'wild' impulse is far better than, I don't know, having something pierced or tattooed... something drastic that just won't look right when I'm 80.
I don't know, whadaya think... would a nose piercing look styling on an 80 year old in 57 years?

In other news, have been doing some reflecting on my recent trip to the Chicago area. We were able to bum around the area near Gino's East (Pizza place) for about an hour and my friend/team mate Nichole and I ended up strolling along the shores of Lake Michigan for a while before heading into the restaurant where any surface area outside the bathrooms can be graffiti/written on.
I usually don't like cities in the United States with a passion. I don't mind them overseas at all, just not in the States. I really wasn't sure why until a friend pointed out that overseas there are people walking around quite a bit in cities, but in the States almost everyone drives, so you don't see people outside as much. Which after thinking about it and walking around Chicago seems to be right on.
It was a little strange doing a ministry project on a team again. I haven't done that since YLP in 2004. And it was kind of funny last week as we walked across busy intersections or through the mall when someone would walk up next to me and I thought it was one of my team mates. I mean, who else would be walking up next to me? So I'd turn to them to say something and realize I had never seen that person before and they were simply someone who happened to be going the same direction as I was.
But it struck me towards the evening as I watched the faces of some team mates who had never been in a huge city before, and were feeling perhaps a little overwhelmed, how confident I felt. Even though the buildings dozens of stories high that were towering over my head did every now and again make me feel slightly claustrophobic, for the most part I enjoyed our time in the city. It struck me because I have for the last few years assumed that I was called to a rural setting with minority groups, and have vehemently opposed any thought of working in a city. I wanted someplace lush, green, and rural. Thank you. But walking in Chicago made me wonder if I might want to do some work at some point inner city. Granted, it would hardly be as nice and clean as the tourist trap area of the Windy City. But it would be something to look into. Which really surprised me. But then hey, I painted my toe-nails this afternoon, so why am I shocked at being once again surprised by myself?
Anyway all that to say, between China still stalking me (Sunday School leader last Sunday had spent a few years in China, was teaching a lesson on Missions, and of course guess what part of the world came up. Learned about yet ANOTHER unreached people group in that oriental region) and my new found piqued interest in cities, I have no idea where I'm going to end up Missiologically.
It was also weird because I worked a lot with Eastern Europeans last week. It was totally right up my ally. I knew what to say, how to say it, didn't feel uncomfortable, felt right at home. And for some reason, the old sense of "yay! I'm with who I'm supposed to work with long-term and finding out things that will benefit me later!" wasn't there. My sister pointed out that I have sort of 'cracked the code' with Eastern Europeans so the old challenge isn't there anymore, which is maybe why my interest is more piqued when the Orient is mentioned rather than when something in Europe is mentioned (which, incidentally, when I was called to work with Gypsies in Eastern Europe, Romania kept popping up every time I turned around - totally out of my control, and now that I'm wondering about the 10-40 window, India and China keep popping up. I'd like to read into it, but trying to keep my thoughts still and my prayers active).
Yeah I'm definitely 'wired' for Europe - it's my ancestry and a lot of how I was raised helps me feel much more able to melt right into European culture (and all my Eastern European readers are thinking, "HA! If only you KNEW Rachel how culturally DUMB you still are!" Okay granted. I am still American, and I will be the first to admit that we're kind of dumb when it comes to international interactions. Do I get points for my disclaimer now? ;-D)
So I'm wondering, sometimes God does call us someplace where we just 'melt in.' And He did call me to a place that was very conducive to me learning and growing in ways that will always effect me in my faith and calling. But I am learning there are seasons, and while I still feel that I'll go back to visit Romania and my friends there and rejoice in the growth of their ministries, I don't know that I'll join them like I did before or like I thought I would long-term. I could be totally wrong though. I'm not sure what this new season is of my 'missions career' but I do have a sense that the season is changing, and I'm trying to hold it loosely and focus singly on the Lord and where He is leading. Not easy when there are a bazillion voices all screaming, "Go this way! Go that way!"
So... all that to say, still being stretched and serving Him blindly. Its adventuresome to be sure, but not always as informed as I'd like it to be. See the horrible thing about adventures is that they are wonderful to read about because you know - by what genre section you checked the book out of- how the end will be. But when you are actually LIVING it, you have no idea. And as a Christian, that is okay because we know God is sovereign. As a human though, and a rather type-A one at that, it compels me to... well, do crazy things like paint my toes. Yeah, I know. It's pretty lame. But you must also realize that I have a very healthy guilt-complex instilled in me as an oldest child of two homeschooling therapists. I know enough to be dangerous about anything else wacky that I would want to do. ;-) Tragic, I know. See I wish I wasn't terrified of heights because then I could go skydiving and would have something somewhat impressive to brag about in my "wild and crazy whim that I followed through on" department. ;-)
Alrighty, well, speaking of Eastern Europeans, my dear Romanian brother and his wife invited me over for dinner, and it is one minute past when I am supposed to meet them. Fortunately they are relationship rather than time-oriented people, yet nonetheless, I must go.

~Princess Ouch~

Augustine, Eastern Europeans and China

Be not foolish, o my soul, nor become deaf in the ear of thine heart with the tumult of thy folly. Hearken thou too. The Word Itself calleth thee to return: and there is the place of rest imperturbable, where love is not forsaken, if itself forsaken not. Behold, these things pass away, that others may replace them, and this lower universe be completed by all his parts. 'But do I depart any whither?' saith the Word of God. There fix thy dwelling, trust there whatsoever thou has thence, o my soul, at least now thou art tired out with vanities. Entrust Truth, whatsoever, thou hast from the Truth, and thou shalt loose nothing; and thy decay shall bloom again, and all thy diseases be healed, and thy mortal parts be re-formed and renewed, and bound around thee; nor shall they lay thee whither themselves descend; but they shall stand fast with thee, and abide for ever before God, who abideth and standeth fast for ever."

Confessions of Saint Augustine, section 16, chapter four.

The Word Itself calls me to return, and there is the place of rest. As I review the last few days and sip a cup of "Tension Tamer'' tea, I again wonder how on earth it is possible to feel so rested and at the same time so exhausted. But I guess I'm wired so that the more I physically exhaust myself, the more spiritual and mental rest I'm able to receive. If I sit still, my brain goes 90 miles per hour, but if I'm active, my brain takes a break. Weird.

But wait, I was getting all intellectual with Augustine and then went off into a tangent.

I talked with a Serbian Orthodox priest today, along with another priest's wife, as part of our people group research project we're doing over spring break in the Chicago area.

We had an interesting discussion with Father Marco, who presides over a huuuuuge Serbian orthodox parish in the area. The building is gorgeous, both inside and out. Here's a clip of the Nicene Creed being sung inside their sanctuary... er... yeah, that's what they call it, right?

However, Father Marco explained to us that the important thing is not the gold or fancy decorations inside the church. These are only meant to help us focus on the whole point of Faith, that is, Jesus Christ. The same with the icons. The point is not the icon, the point is the holy, sanctified person being represented. When looking at an icon, the point is to be inspired by the person and grow deeper in faith, not venerate the icon.

Eastern Orthodoxy and Roman Catholicism is fuel for much debate in theological training camps of the protestant faith. Most take the stand that it is not possible to be saved if under such spiritual leadership, or at the most barely possible. Mother Teresa maybe made it into Heaven... just because... but she was the exception.

However, at one point in the interview, I asked Father Marco point blank (in my characteristic, frank-to-a-fault directness... which both endears me to those at my school and at the same time makes them cringe and shudder. I confess I've felt regret occasionally for their discomfort, but not enough to mend the error of my ways. Still being sanctified, ya'll.)

"So may I ask you father, what is more important to you: that those you minister to become members of the Orthdox Church, or that they have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ?"

I immediately felt a collective yet unarticulated gasp of horror from the other three in my group and everyone braced themselves while the priest looked down for a moment.

"I'm sorry, it's a difficult question and very personal, I should not have-"

"No no. It is not a difficult question at all. It is very simple. Of course Jesus Christ is most important. However, I know it is possible to have such relationship outside of the Church, but to reject all Church membership... I know one can be Christian but to not partake in fellowship with the body of Christ is... not good."

I did a research paper on the Eastern Orthodox Church for my English class a few semesters ago and was actually impressed with how they articulated many aspects of the Christian Faith. No worries, I'm not about to convert. But I'm not about to write off someone as bound for Hell because they go to an Orthodox Church. On the contrary. And I believe they have good things to teach us about discipleship, holiness, community, and sanctification.

But back to Augustine. This is the first time I've actually read read through Confessions, that is, not simply gotten the gist enough for a class discussion but really going through the sections I don't understand and digesting it. Bear with me while I seem to digress onto a tangent that does in fact have something to do with the quote at the beginning of this post:

I've been hanging out with a sister from Cameroon recently. Africans have impressed me for a while regarding how they understand Spirituality and relationship with God and the spirit world far deeper than I feel other cultures do, and I always appreciate the insights my African brothers and sisters offer me, even though we of course don't always agree. Anyway this particular sister and I have been praying a lot lately. While my prayers focus on brief thanks and mostly petitions, her prayers are always rich with descriptions of God and praise simply for who He is, what He has created, our lives, and affirming His power. The intercession takes a tithe of the prayer. At first this slightly disgruntled me, as I thought the intercession and request part the main point of the prayer. However, I've observed - and yes this will sound abrasively scientific - that people who focus on praise and venerating who God is have much more effective prayer lives. Not necessarily in getting what they want or ask for whenever they pray. But they are more at peace when the answer is 'No' or 'not yet' or differs in any way from their 'intentions' when they begin praying.

So I've started trying that in my prayers. Don't get me wrong, I do this not as a scientific experiment to see if I get what I want more when I pray or get quicker answers. But the last six months of my life keep taking such drastic twists and turns and emotional extreme rises and plunges. My analytical self can make no sense of any reason for any of this other than to drive me closer to the Father, and I can find no other assurance of peace of my obedience unless I am pursuing what may seem sometimes as a rather extreme pursuit of holiness, spiritual disciplines, and drawing close to the Father. I don't really feel free to explain in more detail what I mean, partially at the risk of seeming a braggart and partially due to the fact that I don't want to get flooded with well intentioned, concerned emails from those in different seasons of life. However, allow me to encourage you to do reading on Spiritual disciplines and start trying them. Believe me, they are DIFFICULT to do at first, so start small, but be persistent and diligent and soon it will simply become a way of life. "Behold, these things pass away, that others may replace them..."

Giving up things seems tragic at the time, but when replaced with what the Father has intended to fill the void, the nonsense is not exactly dissipated, but rather is redeemed.

"Entrust Truth, and thou shalt loose nothing; and thy decay shall bloom again, and all thy diseases be healed.... but they shall stand fast with thee, and abide forever before God, who abideth and standeth fast for ever."

To trust Truth seems ridiculously obvious but unfortunately is a horrible discipline sometimes.

Sometimes Faith takes the form of knowing that the impossible is going to come to pass. But the harder test of Faith is when all one can do is remove oneself completely from all but focusing on the Lord and growing in Him, the results of whatever is at the crossroads being seemingly ignored.

Anyway. Enough deep thoughts for the night. In other news, China is stalking me. Which is bizarre, because I have never in my life been surrounded by so much China as this week. The guy on my team - the only guy who came on this trip, brave soul. The rest are girls - spent eight months in China, and just came back to the States at the beginning of the Semester. Therefore, EVERYTHING is about China to him. The backpack is from China, Kentucky Fried Chicken in China serves Caramal Macchiato's apparently, whilst here all they serve is Dr. Pepper, shame shame. In China, they drive like this and use their horns correctly. In China, the mentalities are this way in comparison to the Serbians who think that way, or maybe they are similar. And since this particular fellow was a linguistic student/teacher, we get random words of Mandarin at odd times. For various reasons I know a smattering of Mandarin, and we've been comparing notes. God bless the boy but he is Tennessean (that was said for your sake, Dr. Deklavon!) and his accent and tones are... well, Tennessean. Which is fine, he just couldn't pass as a native were he to be talking on the phone.

The resturaunt we went to was Chinese last night, and the waiter who served us was from China and helped us pronounce the Mandarin on the back of the fortunes (why do they call them fortunes anymore? They're really cheesy proverbs now) we found in our cookies. Prideful moment: he did a double take when I said something and smiled and said I was really good.

And we passed a woman in the mall today who was advertising for an American company who is trying to preserve traditional Chinese dance.

I talked with her for a little and then the guy on my team came and they talked a little about where he was at in China (one of the lush, green areas, while she was from a northern, more harsher climate) and we learned a little about various Chinese and Mongolian dances. Both Kyle and I walked away wishing we could go - this lady was good at her job - but highly doubt we'll be able to convince the rest of the team to spend $40 apiece on Saturday and go home later. And not really sure I can afford that right now anyway. *dramatic sigh* Well, maybe next year I'll be able to afford Riverdance for the Orient. Its going to be at least in Cincinnati or Indianapolis, even if it doesn't run through my area again.

Alright, its 10:30 pm, I'm bushed, and we have another full day tomorrow with writing up reports, a few more interviews, then doing a presentation at a wednesday night prayer meeting and leading prayer for the nations and ministry in this area. Whew. I am not sure being a venerated, high-potential possible missionary is all its cracked up to be. At least nuns get cool outfits or habits or whatever they are called... can the seven of us Lottie Moons on this mission trip get like, I don't know, Baptist Shalwar Kamizs or something fun please?

~Princess Ouch~

Poetical moment

So far for my Great Books class, we've read The Odessy, Augustine's "Confessions" and Boethius' "The Consolation of Philosophy". One of our assignments was to write out an experience or memory in a poetical style that was similar to that found in the Odessy. I wrote out an experience from this summer and have been meaning to post it here. Hope you enjoy. :-)

As an unbroken colt bucks and bounces
vainly attempting to rid itself of its' master
who gentles it into submission,
so did the old Dacia car buck and bounce
as we crawled up the dusty Carpathian roads.
Sweet grass danced across the hills
and jagged mountainous ridges
as gentle Ewes grazed with their lambs
their bear-like shepherd dogs
faithfully watching.
These sights I drank in with pleasure
as my dear companions escorted me
further away from the world familiar
and into the hidden, sunlit valleys.
As the seagull, wild and free, cries out as he flies
so too did the voices of the village greet us
before its' sights and smells.
Olive-skinned children, turned black by sun and wind,
ran to greet us as they laughed their salutations.
My own voice joined them, my tongue clumsy
as I made the unfamiliar words of their world
shape themselves and fly from my lips.
I let my strange white hands
be touched and stroked, as laughing
the children tried to explain my sky blue eyes.
Their flashing raven hair bobbed
as they danced for me.
Husky voices raised in jeers and compliments.
I smiled and thanked my God,
as once again He had brought me here.
And I was proven faithful in my promise
to return to these my Gypsy friends.

Back Home

(Neighbors watching the river rise and the road dissapear)

So I successfully made it back home :-) There were a few points when I was switching planes when I was pretty sure I'd be stranded. Little things like the airlines forgetting to display which gate my flight was, or not giving me a boarding pass in Budapest which complicated things in Amsterdam, or new customs and checkpoints that weren't there last year. Yippee! But Praise God I made it fine, and am safely back home.

So I promised I'd put up pictures of the flood, so will do that now :-) Funny thing is the computer I used in Romania was faster at loading pictures than the one I use in the States. Now does anyone else see anything wrong with that??? lol

Anyway, it started as we were getting ready to go to Church in Sacuieu, and for the next hour or two we watched the water rise at an alarmingly fast rate. At one point the river was flowing about two feet away from the house. I really wished we had some sandbags, but we had something better: prayer! :-) The interesting thing was that the water made a circle around the garden and the house, making two little islands. Further down the road, a house that was higher than ours had the garden completely washed out and water in the basement. And the neighbors had their garden washed out as well. So after the flood Silvana and I went inside and each took a nap. I had been stressed and was going to have a full night traveling by bus over the mountains and across the Panonian plain to Budapest for my flight that left at 7 am in the morning. After waking up we sang Praise and Worship songs to Nicu's playing the guitar, and then Silvana and Nicu showed me some goofy songs from Christian bands who took secular songs and put Christian lyrics to them. It was fun!

(Silvana surveys the rising flood)

(Leo watches the road dissapear to the waters)


Naomi and I decided to snitch some cherries while we were outside. We kept 'accidently' pulling branches down which let loose a shower of water that had caught on the leaves when it rained)

(The house and the rising flood. Woot)


Silvana told Tanti Marioala that I was sad because we couldn't go to Sacuieau. I was going to buy a Gypsy outfit from Dita while we were there. Tanti Marioala asked if I wanted to see what was in her attic and we found this costume which I bought from her. :-) Pretty Gypsy. Apparently her daughter in law wore it for a high school play or something.

My family and me back home!!

(Sorry that this ends rather abruptly, I figured if I was going to get this posted I should while I had the computer, and its late at night. If I waited until I could give the story a nice ending, you might be waiting for a while. Since this has sat in my drafts box for over a week, I figured it was time to just finish putting up pictures and post it as-is. Sorry again!)

The rains came down and the floods came up...

Last day in Romania. We were going to go to Sacuieu for church, but just as we were getting ready a neighbor ran over and yelled on the porch,

"Nicu quick! Move your car, the river is starting to flood!"

It has been raining for the last few days, and had been raining hard on and off all day. My first experience with a flash-flood, and the adrenaline spike left Silvana and I in desperate need of an hour long nap after it was all done.

Feri and Danot(s) came over afterwards to see how we were doing and tell Nicu how Church was without him.

The amazing thing was the Priest from the Orthodox church came to see how some of our neighbors were doing, and they all came over to see how we were doing, so the Priest came with them and drank coffee with us. Silvana was amazed because they've been here for three years and have invited the Priest over many times to have coffee or just to get to know him and he's always refused. The Reformation is still in many ways being fought, just not violently. The Priest didn't want to associate with 'the heretics' but the flood waters brought him in. :-D

Anywayz, I will post pictures when I get home, but am going to enjoy the next few hours with the Hagiu's before we leave at 11 pm to meet my bus in Huedin. It will arrive in Budapest around 4:30, providing we don't meet any flooded-out roads on our way. :-) My plane leaves Budapest for Amsterdam at 7 am, and will get there about 9:30. Then from Amsterdam I leave for Minneanapolis at 11:30, and after eight hours in the air arrive in Minneanapolsis. After ANOTHER two hour layover will fly to Omaha, where Mom and company will pick me up, and then the two hour drive north to the farm.

Yeah... me and Jetlag will be BUDS by the end of it!!!

So please pray for safe travels and clear minded thinking on my part :-)

In Christ,

Princess Ouch.

Face paints, mud, and cool scenery

The other day I took some Face Paints I bought in the States to Calatele. The kids LOVED IT. Since it was rainy I was wearing a hat, so the pictures of me actually painting the kids' faces didn't come out exactly how I had hoped, but that's okay.I had painted different things - like a flower, heart, apple, lion, rainbow - on a piece of paper so the kids could point to what they wanted me to paint. One girl held the piece of paper, another girl held the mirror I brought, and another girl would grab the kids who wanted their faces painted and hold their arms behind them (sort of in a position that I would imagine communist interrogators imposing onto prisoners) and scolded them when they wiggled while I painted their cheeks. Maaaaan.... I was suprised first by how well the kids held still for me while I painted. You see these hyperactive kids zipping around here, there, and everywhere, and you think it's nigh on impossible for them to hold still for longer than a second. But when they decide they want something, or they want to learn something, or it's in their best interest, they cooperate like no one else.As I painted, the kids let loose "Ooooh's" and "aaah's" and "yaiii, how beautiful!" as I painted flowers and hearts and lions and apples and tree's on kids' cheeks. At first I was nervous, because at first I only had about 10 girls who had come for Nicu's Bible Study. But when I pulled out the paints, one or two kids left and found their friends, and before I knew it I was surrounded by a large crowd of rambunctious Gypsy kids."Okay, who is the smallest here?" I asked. A little girl about two years old was shoved forward.

"This is how we're gonna do it: The smallest goes first, and we go from smallest to biggest, okay?'' I said. They all nodded and things went pretty well. Although there was one or two boys who did NOT understand why I didn't paint Feri's son's face first, but the Gypsy girls explained for me in Gypsy what the plan was.

There were a few points where all the kids were shouting and squealing with glee and a few minor disputes at the edge of the crowd, and I got quite an earful of the Roma language. I loved it but couldn't understand a thing, let alone hear myself think!!

One of the older girls who was about 13 watched me from behind for a few minutes and then quietly took a paintbrush and started painting kid's faces with me. THAT was awesome. Silvana said this girl would listen to her children's stories and pay attention to the programs, and then when Nicu and Silvana left she would gather the kids the next day and retell the stories for the kids. Its so cool to see how God is working amongst these Gypsies.

I hope this girl can continue to learn how to share and teach children, but the problem is she is 13 and will probably be married in the next two years. If that's the case, it will be a lot harder for her to continue learning and teaching as she takes over the care of her household.

So it was fun. Yesterday we weren't able to go to Sacuieu for the Bible study as Nicu had to get ready to go to his parent's house. They live way up in the mountains and need help butchering or building or something very farm-ish, and then once he was ready to go the river flooded from all the rain we have been getting (and it's supposed to rain for the next two days. Woot woot!) So Feri called and said that he was going to lead the prayer meeting. Afterwards he came with Danot(s) and another Gypsy man who has been coming to study and both Danot(s) and Feri brought their sons with them. Feri retold how the meeting went and all the guys were really excited about how well it went.

I tried to listen for a while but decided to grab the face paints and 'be productive' while I listened. The two little boys LOVED the opportunity to get painted once again, and insisted that they have BOTH their cheeks painted AND their hands. We only had time for one hand and one cheek, but it was fun.

Today I went for a loooong walk outside of Sancriau, and got some awesome pictures. At one point I actually started singing Roger's and Hammersteins "The Hills are Alive" as I snapped pictures of the GORGEOUS countryside. Here's some of my masterpieces. Hope you enjoy.

~PrincessOuch~

Sancraiu and Sacuieu

Well, it's my last week in Romania before heading home. Its a little wierd, 'cause it feels both like I've been here forever and also like I just got here.

Thought I would put some pictures of Sancraiu (which apparently I have been misspelling my entire time here ;-D) and a few pictures from last night. We had an awesome praise and worship time in Sacuieu with the Gypsies. They didn't 'sing', per se, they actually yelled on-key. The trouble was that i was trying to match their volume and help keep the girls near me on-beat, and so at the end was hoarse. :-D But it was fun.

I love how there are area's that just open up for awesome views of the valley and village.

Transylvanian Farmhouse.

(on the way to Sacuieu. It was rainy, and we were IN the clouds a lot)

Before Church I went to Lemoia's home where her mom, husband, and sister were all visiting. At first they were quiet, watching me, so I played 'peekaboo' with Isabella, Lemoia's daughter. That sort of 'broke the ice' and they all started asking me about my trip here: how many hours on the plane, how many hours was the trip total, how much it cost, how many kids, if I was married, if I was married before, if I knew any Gypsies in the States and how often I saw Gypsy beggars in the States. There were a few points where Lemoia had to translate my broken Romanian

intoGypsy, but it was fun.

(another view on the way to Sacuieu. Gorgeous at all times of year, but I shudder

when I think of this in the wintertime!!!)

After about a half hour of chatting, Marioala - another Gypsy woman I knew from last year - poked her head in and announced that I was to go to the Church NOW, because Silvana was asking for me. It seemed to me to be one of those situations like when my younger sister says to my younger brother, "MOM SAID you have to _____". But the nice thing was that both Lemoia and Marioala came to church, as Lemoia has only come once while I've been here, and Marioala hasn't come at all.

(a flock of sheep/goats in Sacuieu)

Silvana and I had a nice talk when I got back about previous American teams who have come before and what they did, and how we would want it to look if I brought a team here. I've wanted to put together a mission trip for youth since I stopped working at the Orphanage three years ago, but haven't really had the resources or expertise etc. to do it. But I THINK things may be coming together where that has changed. So anyway, Silvana and I talked about stuff we would have to go over with the youth before they came, and while they were here, and what we would do. She was able to share some of her and Nicu's vision for Calatele and Sacuieu.

(Dana and Zorka, two girls I played with a lot last year)

Its really cool how God has moved in the Gypsies lives and in the Hagiu's lives. Silvana also shared some more about what she and Nicu has learned about Gypsy culture and law etc. A lot of it sounds like stuff I've read about from cultures in like Tribal South America or the Middle East. Which is wierd 'cause we're in EUROPE, which is a completely, totally different culture. From one perspective, it's NO WONDER the Gypsies and Europeans have been butting heads since the Gypsies arrived from India/Pakistan a thousand years ago.

(Danot(s) in the background and left to right is is wife and

two daughters in the foreground)

One thing that has really made me think is how the Gypsies approach certain aspects of life. For example, a lot of them have teeny tiny houses that are often the size of my bedroom. A large house is the size of two small bedrooms. The families usually have from 5 to 10 kids in them. Now granted, they marry off the girls when they are 12 to 15 and the guys are usually out working or... something... so the percentage of that size family that lives consistantly in the house. But the houses are still teeny. However, they spend hundreds (or thousands) of dollars/Euro's on their clothes or electronics and take excellent care of their gorgeous yet expensive horses. It's just very interesting to see where their priorities lie.

(a girl looking at my Bible at Church. I LOVE her hair!!!)

Anywayz. Its always interesting to see what kind of paradigm shifts or observations I'm going to experiance when I come to this part of the world. I am SOOO interested to see how God is going to use all of this in the future. :-) Tomorrow is market day again, so that will be interesting! Am hoping to get some stuff like a noodle maker and some stuff for my family. Last time I was there I found an old Hungarian guy who was selling antique clothing he bought from around the countryside. It was fuuuun. I might buy a blouse or something from him... the thing is those clothes are HEAVY. It's like, canvas from a ship's sail or something with embroidery on it!!

Okay well that is all for now. Hope you enjoyed the pictures and my observations. Please pray that this last week goes really well, and that uses me and the Hagiu's mightely to accomplish His work.

Thanks for all your prayers, support and encouragements so far!! In Christ,

~Princess Ouch~

(you see, Mom? I AM TALL!!!!)

Pictures

I have a cold, so between that and the language, my creativity levels have plummeted. So just going to post some pictures. Sorry for lame-ing out this time, but I hope you enjoy! Cheers, ~R

Feri's wife blowing a bubble with some gum. :-) When I took this picture she was standing at an angle that really showed off her style of clothes, but she moved and the flash went off wrong, so the picture didn't come out quite how I wanted. But anyway, you can kind of see them. And the picture shows 1/4 of the house we were staying in. Its one of the bigger ones I've been in.

The girls were braiding my hair when we heard a Gypsy man yelling at a horse and some odd creaking crashing noises from a cart. So we all looked to see what was up when this picture was snapped. I thought it was soo cute that they all wanted to braid my hair, they kept doing it and undoing it. The funniest part though was when I washed my hair the water I rinsed it with had turned black. ;-) But our water was off for a week, so that may have been part of it too. :-)

We found a wild rose bush and I put flowers in their hair. Since they did my hair, I did theirs. ;-)

It's interesting because when the Gypsies wash their hair, they put a wax in it instead of hair spray or gel to keep it in place. I don't know what kind of wax it is but it smells interesting. So what I had previously had thought was them having really greasy, dirty hair is actually wax to keep it in place.

Skin comparison. :-) The Gypsies know where to find delicious, edible mushrooms up in the mountains. They can sell them for a lot of money to Romanian and Italian companies who use them in Spagetti sauces etc. One of the ladies in the village gave Silvana a small bag of mushrooms for us to eat at home. :-)

Dita washing clothes. She and her daughters have a bath every day and Dita washes clothes and cleans the house every day, even in the wintertime. She said she loves being clean and wants to only have as many children as she can take care of, so she just has her two daughters. She's a very friendly, lovely lady and it's been a pleasure getting to know her better.

Bapu and Feri during wednesday night Church service. A lady, Argentina, (Lemoia's sister) brought her little son to Church, and we all took turns holding him. Feri wanted to have a turn, and you can see how teeny tiny the baby looks in our friendly gentle giant's arms!

Don't know why, but I've been facinated with the people's hands and feet here. They are rough and calloused from hard work, and sometimes even shaped differently due to different lifestyles of walking long distances and carrying heavy loads.

On the road from Sacueiu to Sancrieu. Church ended at 10, and we thought it was like 9. Woops. :-)

Thanks for all your prayers! I can't believe I only have about 9 days left before its time to head back home.

In Christ,

~Princess Ouch~

Sacrifice and Grammar

"A sacrifice to be real must cost, must hurt, must empty ourselves. The fruit of silence is prayer, the fruit of prayer is faith, the fruit of faith is love, the fruit of love is service, the fruit of service is peace."

~Mother Teresa~

Its interesting for me, to come from a Bible College setting, where we are learning how to be missionaries, pastors, ministers of some kind or another, and spending hours and hours learning theory and techniques - and then to come here and see how it is actually lived out.

I've tried asking some of the pastors and missionaries here what they think of certain doctrinal disputes that are always debated back at college.

"Do you think this is more correct or that?"

The usual answer is,

"Vaii, you Americans have too much time to think! This high doctrine is not important. What is important is your relationship with Christ, and how you are living it out. Yes, doctrine helps. It is important to avoid heresy. But what truly matters, Rachel, is how are you living out what the Bible says? Are you spreading the Gospel? Are you loving God's people? What are you DOING with these disputes?"

Lots of different paradigms. Not only from a structured Bible College to front-line field work, but from America to Hungarian, Hungarian to Romanian, Romanian to Gypsy. And the thing is they are all different but all have their good points and all have their bad points. I learn a lot from each one, and pray that I can also be a Light for Christ in each one.

Talking with Silvana a lot about the different things one goes through as a missionary. I know of many missionaries who, when they go overseas, live more extravagently than when they live in the States because the dollar is worth more or whatever. I know of "Missionaries" who go with the mindset of changing the culture to fit theirs, to make 'their converts' to become cleaner, more educated, 'happier'. Then they go home and recieve recognition and praise for being on the field and 'sacrificing' so much.

However, what I see here is different. I see small changes in the Gypsies - one old woman started a Bible study and holds prayer for her friends and the Hagiu's. A few have started gardens or to raise chickens and care for their children better. One Gypsy lady even came over to the house when Silvana was gone to her home village to take care of some paperwork and bought groceries, cleaned the house and cooked for Nicu and the kids because she knew that they were too busy.

However, these changes are small and take a long time to sink in. And in the meanwhile, the family gets repeatedly sick from the Gypsies, who struggle with resperatory problems and other ailments due to lack of cleanliness, health education or diligence.

There is a peace and joy that comes from serving such people, but also it gets discouraging when they revert to old tribal predjudices or superstitions.

I have a few more years to make up my mind, but already the thought has been buzzing in my head; to go with a more formalized Mission Board and have the security, accountability, and care they offer - but also the regulations and restrictions. OR to step out in a more free yet 'risky' approach of missions. Not sure, still praying. Its not that one is more better than the other, because they both have huge benifits and huge drawbacks. They are just different approaches.

Anyway. I have been trying to study more diligently in the Romanian language book I bought in the States. I have officially decided that the American school system has GOT to drastically change their approach towards Grammar education!!!

Fortunately I studied some grammar, so it's not a HUUUUGE stretch for me to get the grammatical concepts the book gives, but still. VAAAAIII Capul meu!! (Oh my head!!)

I introduced Naomi to the German Futhark (old runes) and we found the Dwarfish and Elvish runes in their copy of Lord of the Rings, so while I study Romanian she studies LOTR alphabets, and she helps me with pronounciation and I help her figure out what exactly Tolkien meant. I think she has the easier job. :-) Just kidding.

Okay I'm off. Nicu and Silvana are going to Cluj to celebrate their anniversary, and Naomi and Leo and I are looking forward to having the house to ourselves. We are planning on making Chocolate Chip Cookies!!!

Please pray for Leo, because he is sick with Pnemonia, and he is on antibiotics. He doesn't feel sick, and apparently they caught it the day after he came down with it. But pray that it doesn't spread because we don't know how contagious he is/was, and the rest of us obviously don't want to get sick.

Also Silvana has had some problems with her kidneys and headaches the last few days.

Other than that, we are all doing good. The rain from over the mountains found us and the last few days have been rainy and chilly. *sigh* Mentally I'm used to extreme weather changes (it's jumped 30 degrees back and forth) since I lived on the High Plains, but physically... puh! And some allergy problems.

But I learned some words in Gypsy the other day, and I'm praying I can learn more. Although this whole 'learning two languages at once' thing is challenging. I did it before when I studied Hungarian and Romanian symultaniously, but my brain is beginning to feel like a blister. :-)

Pace Domnului cu voi. Peace of God with you!

~Princess Ouch~

Sacueau

Yesterday Nicu and I piled into Feri's old Dacia and drove at about 20 to 30 miles per hour up and down bumpy roads into the little village of Sacueau. We had a fun day but it ended with a husband and wife fighting and the two families engaging in a full-blown Gypsy brawl.

Feri asked Nicu what could we do, as enough people were trying to separate those fighting and just getting beaten or fighting themselves, so Nicu called those who went to Church to leave the fighting alone. My friend Lemon came up and asked if I was scared, and I said no, and she laughed and gave me a big hug. An old man walked up to me and assured me that Sacueau was a peaceful village and this was the first time this had ever happened. HA! The first time I went to Sacueau they had all just finished a fight. But they didn't want me to be scared to return to the village.

An old man who only has silver teeth. :-) The car is Feri's Dacia.

In another village, Calatele, with Marinella and her friend. The girl I'm holding, Marinella, is about 13. She stepped on a nail a few days before so couldn't walk very well. She wanted to see Silvana so I carried her to the campfire. That kid was SOOO light! I think my six year old sister weighs more.

Not sure if this was a snake, train, or just kids who liked my clothes begging for attention.

Me with Feri's second son :-)

Some Romanian shepherds shearing their sheep.

Beautiful Romanian Countryside.