To effectively describe this Eastern European country in a short post is impossible. Especially since I only spent one week there, and was so well taken care of, it is going to be difficult to reproduce an accurate snapshot. Throughout the week, I found myself trying to compare the landscape to places I’d visited, or movies I’d seen, to try and relate this lifestyle to any other I’d discovered in my year in Europe, but it was to no use. I was in an entirely new and fascinating part of the globe, and it was wonderful! There are some things that I do know I can take away from this time, though: we were loved by a family, taken in as members, able to see the gentle and patient nature of the people of Romania, and given the chance to cherish the love shared under God’s banner there.
My dear friend Alyssa and I spent our spring break in Sambatine, a small village of 2000 about 15 minutes outside the Western Romanian city of Arad. We were hosted in the loving and caring household of Jim and Nelly Foster, and were interim sisters of Becky and Rachel, ages 13 and 8, respectively. As a part of this family, we were given a small glimpse of rural life, and what a farming village in post-communist Romania looks and feels like. We drank the neighbor’s milk
(and also met and milked the cow one night), ate eggs from the chickens we saw pecking around outside, and attended the school for one day. The home had an in-house running water pump and a septic system of sorts, but Sambatine as a village does not yet have running water. The roads are gravel and the trees trunks are painted white to make the streets more beautiful. The village was surrounded by farming plots (called gardens), where corn and wheat will abound in the late summer. When we were there, the land was freshly tilled, ready for the spring seeding.
Nelly graciously cooked some traditional Romanian meals for us, so that was fun to try some new foods. I think the roasted bell pepper, carrot, squash, and other vegetable spread was my favorite of them all.
Alyssa and I went running one morning from one end to the other, and as we dodged potholes and mud puddles, some of the people looked at us with some odd faces, since that’s not a common pastime there, especially after a day in the fields or with the animals, recreational activity ranks low.
Nelly is the principal of the K-8 school in the village, as well as the biology and chemistry teacher for the older kids. One day, she took us to school with her, where Rachel also attends. We sat in on Rachel’s second grade class, and watched as kids completed their Romanian exercises and math problems between backward glances toward us at the back of the classroom. Much to our dismay, we didn’t know Romanian (and our French knowledge only aided with a handful of words), so when these kids asked us questions during their break time, we were unable to even
think about trying to respond. {Rachel and Becky are both bilingual, so our communication back at home was not hindered at all.} Luckily, Rachel translated some things for us, so we had a vague idea of what was going on. But, as with any second grade kid, you never know what to expect; these kids were pretty as rambunctious and curious, and Rachel made sure to point out which kids to ignore (usually the ones that were out of control, or obviously troublemakers). Later in the day, we were asked to teach to them some English songs in their music class. We started with Old MacDonald and all the corresponding animal noises. Things went well until the teacher decided to leave us alone with the kids. At the moment she left, the classroom exploded in excitement, as if the children were left to behave how they wanted (and why wouldn’t they think anything differently?). We were two powerless adults in a room of Romanian-speaking 8-year-olds all vying for attention needing to go outside to run around. Needless to say, we were relieved when Nelly stepped in to tell us it was time to leave. Those kids were quite the handful.
Jim is the pastor for the Lord’s Army group in Sambatine, as well as a Bible Study leader and occasional speaker for events such as baptisms, graduations, weddings and anniversaries. The Lord’s Army was started in the 1920s, and was an underground entity during the Communist period in Romania. Although the country’s governmental and social situation is changed from those times, the Lord’s Army is still in competition with the Orthodox, Pentecostal, and Baptist churches in Romania. As a strongly evangelical group, often, leaders of the other churches disagree with their messages, and make preaching and attempts at spreading the gospel and word difficult. He moved to Romania in 1993 after previously living in the Bay Area where he was a friend of my parents. My dad and he took two trips to Romania in the late 80s, and that is how I was lucky enough to stay with the Foster family. He is such a patient and gentle man, and he is the true mark of a person who has let God guide his footsteps. God is present in his life, and his story is a testament to the fact that God does indeed have our best interests and deepest desires in mind. What a blessing it was to witness such a faithful family so set on seeking God’s will in their lives.
Thank you Fosters for such a wonderful time in Romania! Although there are loads upon loads of stories to tell, this will just have to suffice, what fun would it be if I told every second of every weekend here? The memories created there will seep out as time goes on, and forever will be a part of who I am, continually making themselves known as I experience different things, and meet people in my life. Stories from this time in Europe will now lace my conversations, and hopefully some of the lessons I’ve learned will play a part in the decisions I make in the future. Each weekend is tearing back another layer of God’s character and revealing his deep and great love for us, and I will miss the rich experiences of this year, but will surely remember them with fondness. The most exciting thing in life, though, is not the times of the past, but rather the assurance that God has fascinating elements to add to our character in the future, and all He asks us to do is be confident in the perfect plan He has for each of us. This time abroad has shown to me the importance of living with abated breath, eyes peeled and ears perked to God’s mercies and wonders. How much more would we be in awe of His creation and great love for us if we lived a life in continual acknowledgement of His presence?
This next weekend will be spent with the Honeggers and Jakobs in Ruti; I feel like I’m headed home for the Easter holiday! I hope that you too enjoy the time spent celebrating the resurrection, and rejoicing that He is risen.
Until next time,
jo
we went to the kindergarden one day to watch their mother's day performance. It was beyond adorable.
They sang songs too...
On my French literature class’s field trip to Basel, although with a lot of transit time for one day, we toured the old city, cathedral, and Jean Tinguely Museum. It was a wonderfully sunny and warm day, and we all had fun trying to explain to each other how we felt and what we were thinking in French, because we were required to speak en français toute la journée. In our exploration and observation of Basel, we chuckled about our ineptitude and how despite the fact that our teacher sometimes had a hard time understanding what we were talking about; we could easily communicate among ourselves with our “Franglais.” 
In my time there, I participated in a few Easter traditions different from my own. The most memorable were centered on hard-boiled eggs. Instead of dying eggs various colors from a kit you pick up at the grocery store, we wrapped eggs in nylon, and pressed leaves and flowers against the shells. Then, the eggs were boiled in an onion skin and water pot for 7.46 minutes (Ruedi’s instructions). After cooling, we cut the nylon off and found the prints of the plants on the shells! On Easter afternoon after a church service and entertaining brunch with the grandparents of Susanne and Simon, we commenced in the annual egg-throwing activity. In a snowy field nearby, we took a dozen hard-boiled eggs and threw them out into the field as far as we could. Object of the game: break the shell. Surprising fact: eggs flung a long distance multiple times don’t necessarily break as quickly as you might think. Once broken, however, you were free to sprinkle salt on it and enjoy.
