All this from one Sunday morning.

I want to tell you about Lupeni.

Now that we've lived here for four months I feel like I can give a better answer to the question, "How is life where you live?" We're still very new here, babies almost. But we're learning.

When I woke up this morning, the mountains across the valley from us were covered in a cloud bank all the way down to the river. The sun was shining on the cloud, making it golden in the light at top and blue in the shadow at the bottom. There was a cold wind coming through our windows then, but the air soon warmed up as the sun rose more and more.

I walked along the street and had to step around garbage lying at the base of many of the garbage cans. Often when garbage goes into the bins, it comes out again either from dogs or the poorest folks in town looking for something to eat or discarded treasures. I remember dumpster diving in Grand Rapids being a fun and fruitful activity, but in Lupeni, it holds sadness and guilt for me. I wonder, when I bring a bag of what Kelly and I deem trash to the dumpster, who will find something useful or nourishing in it. Can I just give it to you without discarding it first?

I saw our friend Ilda sitting where she usually does with her tiny son, Cristi. We met her there, on the steps in front of the building by the meat market, when she asked us for food or money, whatever we could give her. We bought some bread, and continued to for a while. Now when I see her, we wave, ask each other how/what the other is doing (When you ask, "Ce faci?" it can mean either). She always tells me, "Pe aici." ("Around here.") I wonder what else she does in a day. We usually have a nice little conversation and I don't even know how to end them other than simply saying, "Okay, bye..." She never asks for food or money anymore, and I never know if I should give her anything or not. I'll ask next time.

At Mamma Mia, the Italian/Romanian restaurant, even at noon on Sunday, the TVs are on to KISS TV with the latest and greatest hits. At this point, cigarette smoke and beer smell don't bother me much, but I don't think I'll ever get used to loud club music in my ear while I'm just trying to have coffee with some friends. I always wonder if anyone actually likes the music, or if that's just how things are and that's that. Perhaps next time I'll ask that too.

When I walk back along the river, I see all the fire pits on the banks from yesterday's barbeques. There's a lot of beer bottles and paper left behind, a kind of revolting match to all the trash that washes down the river anyways. Again, does anyone like that the trash is there? Some of it would take a large effort on Lupeni's part to truly solve, but I think that if everyone who had a barbeque by the river cleaned up after they were done, even the trash from upstream would disappear.

My hope in societal change for the good of the people in this world and the world itself is in constant need of being renewed and sustained. I thank God for IMPACT kids who get annoyed by the trash and pick it up and make some trash cans on site to try to contain the debris in the future. I hope that those searching through our discarded rubbish in order to survive care about the ground around the trash can just as much as its contents, but to judge them as petty or uncaring of the earth is, I think, more damnable than throwing the trash on the ground in the first place. How much trash on the ground could we avoid by sharing even a little bit of our wealth with those folks who have to search for their next meal? How many more little friendships, something that Kelly and I are always looking for here, could spring up from giving a loaf of bread? Our friendship with Ilda is not based on us giving her material things, a type of relationship that I avoid heavily at this point in my life. Sadly, I often avoid it out of fear of someone depending too much on us more than respect for that person's dignity. I know that not every loaf of bread will lead us into a relationship of mutual giving, but I don't want to be too afraid to try.

It's interesting how life is so complicated at noon on Sunday morning. It tires me out to face the complexity, and worshiping God with our friends reminds me that it's okay that things don't make sense or are too much for me to think about solutions right then. Not that I forget the things that make me sad. It's just that it's so much better to see them with His help, knowing His power is made perfect in weakness and that He leads us from despair to hope.

Almost everywhere I look now, I see things together that I never used to think go together: the beauty of the river and barbeques and the ugly of the trash on the banks. The anger at messy city streets and the desire to somehow help those who put the mess there. The discontent at the way things are and the peace that they are being made new again. This is what it's like for me to live in Lupeni for now.