Tag Archives: gypsy

Christmas Adventures

With Christmas come and gone, I figured I ought to give a quick update on some of our holiday adventures here in Romania.  Unfortunately, I forgot to take pictures, so you don’t get any.

For starters, nearly $600 in donations came in this year for buying Christmas gifts for poor families.  (Way to go, 724!  You guys rock!!!)   We’re still a small work, so this more than covered all of our expenses this year!  Besides bringing gifts (around 40 or 50) ourselves for families to whom we’ve been ministering, we were also able to give a donation to a church doing a similar work in another area of Bucharest.  For everybody who gave to make this happen, thanks!

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Back from the Dead!

I say it with awe:  Vasilica is a woman of prayer.

A few months ago, her oldest son Alberto was diagnosed with HIV infection, contracted as a result of his heroin addiction.  A couple weeks ago, his health had so badly deteriorated that he was taken to the ER where he remained in critical condition.

But his mom began to pray.

At one point, doctors were telling her that Alberto was dying and there was nothing they could do, that she had best prepare for his passing.  She pointed to heaven and told them, “God says when Alberto lives or dies, not you.”

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“Make sure you wash yourselves”

Today, after spending the afternoon speaking to people in Cismigiu Park (and, incidentally, getting ourselves kicked out because we handed a gospel flier to a security guard), we hopped on the subway to go visit our Gypsy friends along Drumul Taberei.  They live in what I can only describe as complete squalor.  The adults survive by begging and washing car windows.  They sleep on strangely-smelling and lumpy things that vaguely resemble centuries-old mattresses (one family per mattress) in small rooms with no electricity that somehow survived the destruction of the building that had once stood around them.  Their drafty homes are heated by wood, and only Vasilica’s has running water.  The kids, when they’re not in school, join their parents to wash car windows at the intersections and beg spare change off of passersby.

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Prayer Letter – August 2013

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A Late-Night Adventure

The real nature of our endeavor didn’t really sink in until ten o’clock yesterday night. Our evening was at that point suddenly interrupted by the furious pounding of angry fists on our door while wild shouts in Romanian echoed in the hallway. Immediately, the three of us men jumped to the door to check the deadbolt and block it from opening. Rita and her kids huddled on the couch. Adrenaline shot through my bloodstream as we waited at the door for what seemed hours, Jake with his eye to the peephole. Finally, he breathed a sigh of relief, saying, “Oh, it’s the neighbors.”

I don’t think we have ever been happier to have our neighbors come pounding on our door at such an hour. Apparently, there was a leaky pipe somewhere in the bloc, and they had taken it upon themselves to discover the culprit. We were all laughing and grateful beyond words, but it took quite some time for the adrenaline to settle back down.

That’s when the magnitude of what we were doing finally hit me. This wasn’t just a fun little evening, this really was a life-and-death scenario.

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Prayer Letter – June 2013

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Playing with Kids in a Trash Heap

franceww2When I was first taken to their home a few months ago, my first thought was that I had somehow been transported about 70 years back in time and 1400 miles west of Bucharest.  The site looked just like what I’d picture a 1940s city in France would have looked like after a thorough shelling by enemy artillery.  Bricks, trash, and wood littering the ground, dead electrical wires hanging out of old plaster walls, the charred remains from the fire used to cook breakfast… it all seemed like a scene from the movie “Saving Private Ryan“.

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