'My' Servant Team

Reflections by Daphne Eck, Romania Servant Team Member

January 22

...yesterday the street children-the younger ones - came to the apartment for club. We had a great time playing games and just goofing off. We had lunch and then they had to leave around 3:30. It was so hard to see them put on their layers of clothes and walk out the door. It's so cold. I am continually reminded here of how blessed I am to have a place to call home. I have not only a physical home to come to at the end of the day - to rest and let my guard down, but also a home with God wherever I am. His love is the constant in my life...but these children.....their only constant is hardship. No love, no place to rest, abusive relationships. it's not fair.

January 26

I had a terrible time sleeping last night; my cold seems to be getting worse. When I’m sick, I just want my own bed at home. I want my roommate from home to bring me a cup of coffee. I want my nice, warm apartment, and a long hot shower. How easily I become what I don't want to be...so selfish.

Read Jer. 34:15-18. It's like I decided to give up some luxuries that are so common to me-to proclaim freedom for those who do not have enough to meet their needs. But when the slightest inconvenience occurs, I want to renege on the vow. Like the Israelites who probably discovered that life was so much more inconvenient once they freed their slaves. They missed their 'freedom' I’m sure. Instead of visiting friends and sitting in coffeehouses and bookstores, they had to wash their own clothes by hand and warm their own water to bathe. But as I read the scripture, I realize the sarcasm God uses when referring to freedom. And I know that those 'freedoms' are a bondage if I must have them...if my having them is robbing those who cannot have them. I am free to chose bondage or freedom. I must remember to measure freedom against God's definition, rather than my flesh. God, I choose to be free. I lay down those things that have kept me in bondage....my need for comfort and convenience, my privacy, my free time.

January 27

Went to the AIDS hospital today. The kids love to dance. We had a good time dancing today. Went and played soccer with the street children today. We found them in the sewers. They just came scampering up the ladder. Some were high...with bags of glue held up to their faces.

January 29

We're on the train to Bucharest now. It's snowing today. It's really beautiful and on the bus to the train station I felt the greatest sense of contentment. There are moments here when I feel completely full. It's the only way I know how to describe it. Usually on the bus or walking, there are times I LOVE Romania. Maybe its more about learning to celebrate the simple things, like snow or a beautiful building or the sun in my eyes. It makes my heart beat in a rhythm I can only describe as "home." It's strange because I really feel out of place, awkward, stupid, and frustrated so much of the time. So to use the word "home" to describe my feelings seems silly. I am happy and just enjoying the moment, as I don't know what valleys the future holds. I feel in some ways so guilty for being happy, because of the intense struggles and suffering I see here. The children, in fact, most Romanian are victims of such injustice and oppression.

February 10

My life is so different here. I'm learning to be, rather than do. I'm going at a much slower pace, yet I am so tired at the end of the day. I am "unproductive." At the end of the day, I rarely have anything to show for it. It's nothing like the job I left to come here. No reports completed, only a journal entry. No problems solved, only more questions. No satisfied customers, a kid without a home to go to tonight can't be called such.

February 11

The younger children come to the drop in center at 11:00 on Thursdays, but nobody showed up today. At 11:20, David, Matt and I went to look for them. We found a few. Gabriel and Peter are brothers. They're awesome. They wanted to come but couldn't. Their mother said they have to each earn 20,000 lei today. They beg to earn it, I think. We continued on, behind the building, near the garbage heap. This is where the children often hang out during the day. Today there's only one boy there; Michael. We started talking with him. David goes to shake his hand, but there is as plastic bag there (he's inhaling a paint used for radiators). Gabriel is high. He looks to be about 8 but is probably 12 or 13. I don't know. He passively hands the bag over to David. We go back to the street. Gabriel and Peter are still there. We talk for a while, then their mother comes to check on how they are faring. She tells David that her kids talk about us and what they do at the apartment all the time. While David talks, Peter takes me back to the garbage heap. I think he wants to show me the fire they've built, maybe just some extra attention. We play around a bit and I see Michael again. He had another plastic bag held up to his face. I hold out my hand and ask for it. He hands it over. My first drug confiscation...it's not a great victory. Peter shows me how to break the bag and we burn it in the fire. Meanwhile, Gabi, one of the older children, has been looking for the other little kids. He can't find them. Many of them are put to work by older brothers, sisters, or parents to beg. They are probably working today.

So we walked back alone and I thought about my own carefree childhood...a childhood filled with loving family, friends, school, activities, warmth, lots of food, discipline, structure, opportunity, fun, peace, safe hugs, and happiness. No expectations, no threats of a beating or a night out in the cold if I didn't bring home the 20,000 lei. Nothing to escape, nothing to try to forget, no reason to deaden my senses. Where is justice for these children? I hardly have the courage to ask this question...much less answer it.

Please help me pray for these children. I’m begging you. Tell everyone who will listen.

March 12

I wish you could meet Paul. If you met him, the first thing you'd notice would be his smile. It's huge and his eyes always shine with it. He's usually very eager to smile. He likes to joke and tease. Like most teens, he wants to be accepted. He tries to please others when he can. Yet society rejects him. Paul lives on the street.

Last week was a difficult week for the children. We saw the other side of the open, generous, happy faces they often greet us with. Instead, the children were violent, high (more than usual), abusive, and argumentative. Paul was especially ill behaved during Thursday's Math lesson. Their teacher, Vali, had to ask him to leave. Please pray for Vali. She is an incredible Romanian woman with a strong love for the kids. Her job is challenging and she gives so much.

That evening, in a combination of English and Romanian, Vali relayed to me what Paulhad said to her as he left. "He said he doesn't need a Romanian or Math lesson and he doesn't need lunch. He said he needs a home. He said he does drugs because he wants to die." She went on, "I told him that God loves him and doesn't want him to live on the street. God wants him to have a home." Vali and I couldn't talk as much as we wanted to, but I think the language barrier helped me to grasp the reality of it. The harshness of Paul life wasn't masked by carefully articulated words. And God's love really is this simple. He loves us. He wants us to have a home. I've been thinking about my parents and how my life experiences so deeply affect them. I remember my dad weeping the day he had to pick me up from the store where I was caught shoplifting as a teen. I remember a time when all my friends rejected me...something that completely shatters the world of a 15 year old. I'll never forget the intense look of pain and sorrow on my mother's face as she hugged me. My parents mourned my sin, they entered into my suffering, they felt my pain, and they prayed. I am convinced that this kind of love has made all the difference in my life. This is the kind of love I want to give and receive.

Jesus mourns for these children. Jesus wants to take Paul in His arms, put his hands on him, and bless him. (Mark 10:16, Luke 13:34). So then why don't we want to do this? I woke up crying on Saturday. Paul' pain was my own, but only for a few brief moments. And there are countless others. Who will cry for them? Who will gather the children into their arms and bless them?

Please pray with me that God would show us how to be the ones.

May 12

"I saw my mother on the street yesterday. She looked at me and recognized me but just kept walking." - Gabriel after seeing his mother for the first time in two years. (This happened last week)

"But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him. He ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him." - Luke 15:20

I got a great email from Amelia (my sister) the other day. In my last e-mail to the family, I told them that I would be returning to the States, as planned, on June 15. I had been praying about staying here in Galati longer, but feel like California is where I should be for the summer. I think my parents have a secret suspicion that I'm always on the verge of telling them that I'm leaving the country and never coming back. They were probably holding their breath on this one. Amelia wrote that as they read the news that I would be returning,

"Dad just smiled real geeky like. On his way out he kept repeating/mumbling, 'She's coming home, she's coming home...' with a big smile again. What a sight he was..."

I just started crying right there in the Internet cafe. The tears were of both joy and sorrow. I cried for joy of knowing how much my dad loves me. And I cried out of the sorrow of knowing what the street children here don't have. I tried to picture their fathers being this excited to see them. I couldn't.

Many of the street children here have families, but the forces of poverty, abuse, and neglect have forced them out of their homes and onto the streets. Many of their parents are alcoholics and beat them and/or force them to beg or work to support their habits. I don't have to wonder if they've ever experienced the fatherly love I know. It's so evident, as in the case of Gabriel, that they haven't. As I compare the rejection Gabriel experienced from his mother on the street to the parable of the prodigal son, I am sickened. Evil seems to have conquered. But there is hope.

"A father to the fatherless...God sets the lonely in families. Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens. Our God is a God who saves." - Psalm 68:5,6,20

I'm begging you to pray for them. Our God is a God who saves.

Please pray that the children would know the love and acceptance of an earthly father...and even experience reconciliation with their own families.

Please pray that their messed-up perceptions of a father's love would be overcome by the fully perfect love of God the Father.

Please pray that Jesus would bind up the wounds of these broken-hearted children.

Please pray for people to rise up in compassion to love and bear the burdens of these broken-hearted children.

Please pray that it could be us.

June 3

It's been a great few weeks. Last week we had 11 kids to the drop-in center for an 'overnighter.' It started early Thursday morning with baths, a change of clothes, and a head-shaving for the boys (to get rid of the lice). They all turned into such good-looking kids! We played, sang, had a couple lessons, and had a generally great time with them. The second day we even went to the forest. We played soccer, basketball, and had a cook out. It was great to see them off drugs, playing, well-fed, and in clean clothes for a couple days but it made it all the harder to drop them off on the street at the end of the second day.

It's hard to imagine leaving and not being able to see them. Please pray for me as I prepare to return to the States on June 14. Pray that I would continue to carry these loved ones in my heart. Pray that I could live in solidarity with them, though I won't be able to live with them. Pray that I would be a voice for them.