back to town
Sunday, November 29th, 2009Brasov, Romania
It was so easy to get out of the habit of going to church on a Sunday. Here it has been easy to slip back into the habit. But it’s a habit with a difference. The church “family” we have become part of is not a Sunday-only deal. This was the group we met our first weekend here, then hiked with last weekend, and also had Slideshow Sunday with, it was the group, who came away for this weekend trip (minus just a few with other commitments). They belong to a church in Brasov, but instead of attending the services every weekend, they meet together as a small group to share their lives deeply, to make disciples. They maintain ties with the “big church”, but also have the freedom to take us away for the weekend, to spend time together seeing God revealed in creation, to open his revealed Word, to practise amazing hospitality, to share a yummy breakfast, to sing and pray together…..and then to wander through the streets of Pitesti, stopping to look in churches along the way, and the spot where a church stood before the communists decreed it be destroyed in 1962. We walked and talked. We found St George killing his dragon on two different churches, and wondered about the widespread-ness of this legend. We enjoyed this style of *church*.
Then we hopped in vehicles and zipped off towards home, stopping on the way to visit the remains of a Roman fort. At this point Rob thought it an appropriate time to stop for lunch <wink> (being two o’clock-n-all). But this was not to be until we covered A Lot More miles and made it to a World War I memorial, where we climbed the hill and ate smoked ham sandwiches as the sun disappeared, leaving us shivering with the sudden drop in temperature. The setting sun cast a deep red glow across the bare trees; it lasted only a matter of minutes, and then darkness settled.
Back into the cars, we drove homewards. But not directly. Along the way, there was a detour through a steep-walled canyon. The sides rose up, towering above us so high that we could barely see the stars. The road winding along beside the stream, was not the best, but the view captured in our headlights was simply spectacular.
And there was one more treat in store. Climbing one of the last hills, rounding a corner, we caught sight of a fox. All through England we had hoped to see a fox, but it hadn’t happened. Here frozen in front of us was the foxiest-looking fox you’ve ever seen (OK, so it was the *only* fox we’ve ever seen). Its bushy tail stretched out behind its poised body, front paw raised off the ground. For a few seconds it stood there, long enough to think you’ve seen a fox and take a second look to really make sure. Then off it trotted into the darkness. And we drove home. 507km covered, a 2l bottle full of honey from our hosts’ backyard beehives tucked in our bag, wonderful memories tucked inside our minds.
rayres