no snow – it’s raining!
Brasov, Romania
Yesterday there were twelve children from two families, all shy-ish, the older ones managing to extend polite civilities. The adults enjoyed the peace, expecting it not to last. Two of our boys stayed the night with the other family, while the rest of us collapsed exhausted into beds in our temporary accommodation.
This morning we all met in the town centre, and as predicted, the dozen children chattered non-stop. All Day Long. We suspect this will not change for the rest of the month we are here. Already there are talks of child-swaps and plans have been hatched for the kids to spend as much time together as they can.
”It’s so nice to have friends here,” Kgirl10 commented.
We adults are enjoying stimulating conversation too, and pause only to contemplate how miraculous it is that we are here together.
Ten years ago Rob and I had a friend over for dinner. She had been living in Romania for years (actually she was there when we were in Poland and she came to visit us once – crazily, she carried two Big Macs from Vienna – I think it’s the only time McDonalds ever tasted good!)
Anyway, there she was on the couch telling us about a family in Romania, who she *just knew* we would get on with. Like us, they had had four children in very quick succession. According to our friend, we shared many interests and aspirations and even though they spoke next-to-no English, she assured us they would be encouraged if we wrote to them. Using this friend as a translator, we made contact. And she was right. We did seem to *click*
Five years ago, the same friend was to marry a guy she had met in Romania. The wedding was to be in New Zealand. And the Romanian couple we had been corresponding with was to be at the wedding. The time had come for us to meet face to face. They had been learning English, and in the three days they stayed with us, we learnt our first Romanian, exchanged recipes, compared families, shared our lives.
Now, here we are with them in *their* country, their town, their home.
We came in November, hoping for snow, but today all we got was drizzle-that-turned-into-rain. Not that it stopped us wandering around town together, seeing the pretty old buildings and in contrast, the bullet-hole-riddled building from the 1989 revolution, marvelling at the outdoor ice skating rink, stomping up the hill through puddles and admiring mountains rising above orange rooftops up into the cloud.
We nibbled on pizzas (topped with Liliana’s delicious and distinctly Romanian garlic sauce: lots of crushed garlic, some salt and thick fresh cream), the kids played board games, we all learnt some Romanian songs; we sat companionably, just enjoying being together.
As darkness fell, more friends arrived and the table was pushed to the middle of the room to make space for all. Church was about to begin.
We have been *in* plenty of churches this past six months, but not for an entire service. We didn’t intentionally set out to not go to church, but it’s what has happened. In Malaysia our itinerary was dictated by others. In Thailand, as I recall, we seemed to be travelling on Sundays. Once we got to Luang Prabang, and knew we had three weeks stationed there, we determined to find a church to visit. Only there wasn’t one. In fact, we didn’t find one anywhere in Laos. This naturally prompted lots of thought and discussion. By the time we got to Cambodia, we *could* have attended church services, but for various reasons (having friends over from NZ, child collapsing in the marketplace and other kids sick too, travelling again…..), we didn’t. After three months, a new habit has been formed and we stopped even looking for churches. We continued daily family devotions and listening to sermons on the Ipod (in fact, many a preacher would be envious of some of Mboy6’s reactions: “Can we listen to that again?” and “Can we listen to another one right now?”), we continued marvelling at God’s creation, talking with believers we came across and with others, who did not share our faith.
Of course, when we got to Europe there was no shortage of churches to visit. And we have been in a lot of them. We have sat in the pews and feasted on medieval artwork, we have gained an appreciation for Byzantinian art, which we did not previously possess, we have studied sculptures, we have wondered about icons, we have listened to the awesome majesty bellowing out of organ pipes, we have wandered under enormous domes and turned our eyes upwards.
And today we gathered with a small intergenerational group of believers in one of their homes and shared Scripture, song, discussion, prayer and fruit.
As someone, who struggles with the immense amount of time and effort that is often spent maintaining the practices of “Sunday”, I appreciated the simplicity and personability of this encounter. There was no cathedral, but there was authenticity. There was no set-up roster (indeed, there were not even enough chairs for everyone), but there was hospitality. There was no organised choir or multimedia presentation, but we made a joyful noise together. There was (shock, horror) no sermon, but there was grappling with ideas (and to be fair, the discussion was based on notes from a conference attended by some of the group, so there kinda was a sermon!) There was no creche or children’s ministry, but over a dozen children sat around listening and contributing (OK, so the baby didn’t say much, but she brought a smile to everyone’s face as she was passed around the group).
Soon a couple of hours had passed and we were donning raincoats and pulling on boots, hoping that the temperature might drop and the rain turn to snow.
Tags: 2008/09, children, food, God, postcard: Romania, recreation, weather
rayres
This description of The Church brought tears to my eyes. Beautiful.
So pretty! And I loved the description of the church too.
Love that church experience. Authenticity, hospitality, sharing … yep, sounds like church 🙂