what a welcome! (three days ago again)
Brasov, Romania
Slideshow Sunday the Second…..we were invited to share our slideshow at a small local church. It was exactly fourteen months and one day since we had been to a “real” church service.
Opening the door at the top of the wooden stairs, a warm blast of air escaped. Was the warmth from the heaters or the welcome about to engulf us? To be fair, it’s hard to miss our family when we walk into a small room, especially when almost everyone is facing the door, but our experience shows that doesn’t automatically ensure a nod of the head, let alone a hearty welcome.
In fact, we’d have understood receiving a cold shoulder, because it became immediately apparent that we were not observing protocol. None of us females had head coverings other than our woollen hats – and had we kept them on, we’d have passed out! Additionally, none of us were wearing skirts; even worse, I was in jeans. I contemplated tying my scarf around my waist as I’d done at Greek monasteries that enforced the wearing of skirts, but in the end just apologised to everyone when we got up to speak and explained we’d recently been in China, where all women wear trousers all the time. 😉 This was probably unnecessary, because by that stage we had already been welcomed into the fold with wide open arms. People had helped us take off coats, within minutes a man had issued sweets to the kids and when we refused the ones he offered the adults, he insisted we take them as they were eucalyptus and good for a bad throat (at least we think that’s what he said). We didn’t have sore throats, but took the lollies anyway.
Church started. The Lao phrase “same same but different” sprang to mind.
Someone got up the front to welcome everyone there and start the singing. Same.
The music began. Different. It was great to hear songs of worship in a local language, set to local tunes, and not just famous American or Australian songs translated (although they were to come as well….and old hymns too….quite a mix).
The music arrangement was also different to our home church, in that the microphone-wielding singer sat in the congregation instead of “performing” up front. It’s only a little thing, but it contributed to creating a different atmosphere.
Same same but different. Sit to sing, stand to pray.
Slideshow. The projector was old and the photos looked dreadful! This did not, however, seem to put people off. The questions flowed thick and fast. With the help of an interpreter, a *conversation*, ensued. Questions, answers, comments, blessings and prayer. It was a very special time.
One more song and “church” was over.
Almost all the women present filed past to shake our hands, plant kisses on my cheeks and stroke the children’s faces – the kids felt like they were back in Asia! Before we knew it, we were invited to come back next Sunday morning and then go for lunch with an older couple. The wife issued the invitation and her husband confirmed that it would not be too overwhelming to them as he has thirteen siblings and so they are used to lots of children! Hard to refuse. Not that we wanted to.
One moment we did not know these people. Two hours later we were part of the family…..and it did feel like a family gathering. There is something intimate about small churches. Not that being small makes you instantly hospitable – we attended a small church for two years and were never greeted by anyone other than the students we taught, much less invited for a meal – and we didn’t have *any* kids back then!
We walk away from this small tightknit community, challenged. Their love was a banner – both to us as outsiders and within the group itself – for example, one lady, whose husband died last year, lost her only son just last week in a car crash. Thirty short years. She stood to thank the family, the church for their help over the week. Love.
I left that ordinary-looking building knowing that this is what it would feel like to be dunked – no, completely submerged – in a pot of love.
Tags: 2008/09, God, postcard: Romania, tradition
rayres
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