What does this picture make you think of?  How do you feel after looking at it?

This picture brings back a flood of memories from the Roma villages.  This little guy tugs at my heart and makes me feel like wrapping my arms around him and telling him that Someone loves him very much.

Sometimes it amazes me how much my experiences in Romania affect life. 

I’m not talking about, “Oh, yes, every two months I get out my pictures and remember my time fondly.”

I’m certainly not talking about, “It was nice to go to Romania three times, but that’s over.”

No way!

I’m talking about my experiences directly influencing my life on a daily basis.  You see, God really woke me up spiritually the first trip to the Roma villages.  He showed me that there was a bigger purpose in life than myself – and that purpose was to love, serve, and glorify Him. 

My first glimpse of life in the poorest country in the European Union was life-changing.

Yeah, but Joanna, that was years ago.

True, but He’s still using those experiences to change my life.  They influence my thoughts, attitudes, prayers, ideas, and decisions that I make – every single day.  For example, if I go out shopping, I tend to go to thrift stores now.  If I’m stuck in a traffic jam, I think, “Well, many Romany people don’t even have cars!”.  If I’m given a food that I don’t particularly like, at least I’ll stay in the same room as the food and actually eat some of it!  I’ve found that I give away material possessions far easier, that I’m more content with what I eat and wear.  I see the Bible as more precious, I sing louder in church than I used to, and I witness more.

Really, Romania influences all aspects of my life, every day.

I’m utterly grateful and glad that God sent me all those years ago to a country that I couldn’t find on a map, that He didn’t give up on me, and that He woke me up.  Maybe beforehand I was living life with partially closed eyes.

Now I’m living life joyfully for Him.

And my eyes?  They’re open wide.

You ride in your car on the way to church and play your Nintendo.  You also have a whole room full of toys.

 Lifestyle of a Gypsy

As a Gypsy, you may have to walk miles and miles to get to church.  Most likely you’ve never played Nintendo, nor do you have many toys.

 Lifestyle of YOU

You have (for example) 3 bedrooms or more, a dining room, kitchen, office room, a living room, 1 or 2 bathrooms (with electricity!) and maybe a basement.  And maybe even more rooms!

 Lifestyle of a Gypsy

Let’s take a look at a Gypsy’s average house.  No running water, no electricity,  and no “normal” toilets.  A Gypsy’s toilet is a hole in the ground, most of the time.  I am usually a bit apprehensive at the swarms of bees flying around the hole.  Do you fear swarms of bees in your bathroom?  Probably not!

Lifestyle of YOU

You complain you don’t want a turkey, roast beef, chicken, or grilled cheese sandwich.  You want something different.

Lifestyle of a Gypsy

You don’t know if you are even going to eat breakfast or anything at all today.  You don’t really care what you eat – as long as it’s edible!

Lifestyle of YOU

“I just wore that pair of jeans yesterday!  I don’t want to wear them again!”

 Lifestyle of a Gypsy

You don’t have much of a choice what you wear.  You might wear the same outfit several times this week.

 Lifestyle of YOU

“Mom, I’m going to get a drink from the water fountain.”

 Lifestyle of a Gypsy

Uh, water fountain?  To get water you have to go down to the village well, draw up the water with a bucket, and carry it back home.

• 1 1/4 cups cornmeal
• 1 3/4 teaspoons salt
• 5 1/2 cups cold water

Directions

1. Mix cornmeal and salt together with 1 1/2 cups of cold water and set it aside to soften.
2. Bring 4 cups of water to a hard boil.
3. Add the cornmeal mixture to the boiling water, stirring constantly.
4. When the Mamaliga begins to thicken, cover, and cook over lower heat, for about 30 minutes, stirring periodically; do not allow Mamaliga to burn.

One day while in a Roma village, I was handed a plate of this mamaliga (like cornbread, sort of) and told to eat it.  So I did.  It was delicious!  Unfortunately I cannot remember what variation my hostess made it with, since you can serve it with cheese, cottage cheese, feta cheese, eggs and lots more!  I do know that it goes excellent with sarmale.  So, I’d say be creative and give this popular Romanian side dish a try!

He lost his eye due to cancer.  And because of that tragedy, he was unable to go to get an education.  In other words, he was forbidden to attend school.

My eyes widened in disbelief.  This young boy had gone through so much and to top it off, he couldn’t go to school. 

“Why?”

Because he wasn’t “perfect” like the other children.  They all had two eyes; he had one.

“That’s not right!” I blurted out.  “They should let you go to school anyway.”

He sadly shook his head, “Unless I have two eyes, they won’t allow me to go.”

Months later, I received news that a miracle was about to happen: he would be allowed to go to school and learn because a church had raised money for a glass eye.

My two eyes filled with tears of joy. 

Yes, it still wasn’t the best situation as it would’ve been much better had the school board just allowed him as he was without an eye, but at least he could now do what he dreamed of – learning.

 God used the church body to say to the boy, “I care” or rather more appropriately, “Eye care”.

I politely refused, smiling as I heard the girl say my name so oddly.

“No, I want you to have it, please.”  She paused and then continued, “To remember me by.”

Finally understanding why she wanted to give it to me, I let the Roma girl slip a ponytail holder onto my wrist.  She smiled and hugged me tightly, “You’ll remember me, right?”

“Yes, I’ll always remember you.  Friends forever, even in heaven.”  I replied, returning her hug.

That was over five years ago.  I definitely still remember my giving friend.  Occasionally, I pull out the purple ponytail holder from its storage space, frayed and overly stretched from how constantly she had used it.  Yes, my friend had used it well and had now given it to me as a gift.

Yeah, it’s just a hair piece.

But by giving it to me, she made a deep impression on me.  I will always remember my friend and her ponytail and what it represents to me – friendship, love, and sacrifice.

My Roma friend and I walking.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been back to Romania.  Over two years, in fact.  But when I start to reminisce, it seems like yesterday…memories float through my mind so vividly…

Music floats up to my room from somewhere below on the streets.  I gaze out the window and then hear horns blaring.  The sweepers are out, cleaning the streets.  I smile.  I’m in Romania.

I see myself walking with my Roma friend to a bridge.  Arm in arm, we walk, laughing, smiling.  Attempting to talk in a mixture of Romanian, English, and sign language we giggle and sigh contentedly.

I laugh as one of my little friends pulls my hair out of my ponytail.  The wind blows stray strands of hair in my face as we race along the road.  I’m riding a wagon pulled by a single horse and driven by a young boy.  Sweat from the horse flies into my face, but I just grin and laugh again.  I close my eyes, knowing I’ll want to remember this moment forever.

A young girl around her teens comes up to me and hands me a frayed ponytail holder.  I look in astonishment, knowing the sacrifice she’s making for me.  She insists I take it and puts it on my wrist.  She gives me a hug and strokes my hair, repeating the Romanian word for “beautiful” over and over.

My eyes take the scene in – I’m visiting a leper colony.  Most of the place looks deserted, but then I notice people.  Most are probably 60-80 years old, their hair white and grey, their skin wrinkled.  One lady has been living there for 50 years.  She used to drag herself to church on her knees, because the disease had wracked her body so horribly.  I glance down at several of the people and see that some of them are missing limbs or toes or fingers.  My heart hurts for these people whom God loves so much.

Yes, the memories are still very clear and fresh.  I can’t wait to see what the Lord does when I’m in Romania this spring!

Suddenly a young boy came up to me.  His eyes pleaded with as me as he started jabbering off in Romanian.  I called for our translator, since I couldn’t understand what he was saying.   She told me that the boy wanted a pair of shoes.   I smiled.  Pretty much everyone was there for new shoes and socks.  What she said next stopped me dead in my tracks:

He doesn’t own a pair of shoes. 

I was shocked.   No shoes, not even a pair?   I couldn’t imagine my life without shoes.  In my head I tried to imagine it, but it just wasn’t possible.

I grabbed his hand and together we found a pair that fit him nicely.   His face was glowing.   And so was mine.   

On the van ride back to the hotel, I pondered the little boy and the joy he had over a simple pair of shoes.   In fact, the only close comparison I can make is that it would be like giving away real cars that are worth $30,000 each here in the States. 

Suddenly I realized anew how much I truly take things like my shoes, my bed, my house for granted.  For example, as an American, whenever I get yet another pair of shoes, it’s normal and somewhat mundane; however, this boy had none and was thrilled to receive even one pair.

And you know what?  That little boy will probably never know that he changed my perspective on the world.  But he did and God used him mightily. 

And it all started with a pair of shoes.