Parenting practice.

Ordinarily my life in the summer is down in Lupeni (this is Kelly writing), while Jack's is up on Straja at camp.  But last week I got to join him on the mountain for a week of camp!  It was a crowded week with 95 kids coming, so Jack and Ilie were looking for some extra help.

My group was comprised of 15 kids between the ages of 5 and 10.  Kids under 8 aren't really supposed to come to VIAȚA, as they're too small to be able to do many of the ropes course activities and too young to keep up with the pace of the schedule, but our group had mainly come from a Montessori school in Bucharest, and they sent the whole class.  It quickly became apparent that dealing with the youngest kids was going to present a challenge... but it was also a really fun, adorable, and amusing week. 

One of our kids in particular, a 7-year-old named Zeno, was really, really homesick.  Every few hours we'd see his lower lip start to quiver, and within a few minutes he was wailing, "I miss my mom!  I miss my dad!  I miss my baby brother!  I miss my cat!  I miss my bed!"  If we let his cries go on too long (and particularly if it was close to dinnertime when they were all hungry and tired), he'd set off a chain reaction in the other young kids, and soon we'd have a whole choir of wailing children, sniffing and hugging their stuffed animals as my co-counselor and I raced around trying to dispense comfort.

Zeno slogged through the week fluctuating between happy and sad.  We hit our low point one day at lunch when, tears in his eyes, he looked up from his untouched plate and said to me, in his hilariously-adult vocabulary, "I am going to walk home to Bucharest.  I implored my dad to come get me but he didn't, and I can't resist any longer.  I will start walking and sleep with a boulder as a pillow if I have to... but I can't stay here any more!"  I tried to reason with him at first: "Zeno, don't you think it would be better to wait until the bus comes to get you on Friday?  Then you will be home on Friday night.  But if you start walking it will take you at least a month to get to Bucharest, and you won't be home until August!"  He shook his head.  "I don't care," he said.  "At least I will be on my way home to a beautiful place and leaving behind this camp.  It's the worst camp in the world."  I nodded and said okay, but pointed out that he'd better eat his lunch so he had enough energy for the long walk to Bucharest, since this might be the last meal he'd get in a while.  (Yes, a shameless way to convince a kid to eat, I know... but it worked!)  Once the food hit his belly he started to feel better and soon enough he was out playing with the other kids, happy for a few more hours.

Our group's week at camp was perhaps less educational than VIAȚA usually is.  Yes, we got our kids up to the ropes course, and had a few debriefs about working together and not yelling at each other, but for the most part our goal was just to let them have fun and feel loved.  But there were tons of beautiful moments in individual conversations with kids -- about loneliness, about being bullied, about missing people you love, about being brave, about not letting other people's opinions bother you, about being nice to new kids, and on and on.  These were great moments.

But for me, the biggest victory came on Friday afternoon, when Zeno stepped onto the bus, grinned at me, and said, "I get to go home and see my family now!  And I am going to tell them that this is the coolest camp in the world."

Heat wave.

It's hot here.  Like, mid-90s.  Which, as a kid who grew up in Iowa, isn't strange for the summer -- but for these mountains, it's blazing.

Thankfully big concrete apartment blocks keep relatively cool in the summer, and the forests offer shady relief as soon as you step under their green, leafy canopy.  But mostly, people are wilting -- lethargic, sitting in the shade fanning themselves slowly.  The streets are almost abandoned, except for a few brave old ladies who are grocery shopping with umbrellas to keep the sun off.

It's hot enough that little boys strip down to their underpants and play in the river next to our apartment, jumping off the big flat rock (usually used to wash rugs) into the gentle ripples of the Jiu.  Today I saw an older man dragging his dog on a leash into the river, presumably to cool him down under all that fur.  I'd jump in too, if there wasn't so much trash caught in the weeds on the edge of the river.  Actually, I might jump in regardless.

So here's to summer!

Leaving for camp.

Yesterday three of our IMPACT members left for a week at VIAŢA camp.  A wealthy Romanian businessman had donated money to send a few kids from the Jiu Valley to camp for free, and we offered three spots to anyone from our club who wanted to apply.  Three of our most involved girls jumped at the chance, filling out forms explaining why they wanted to go to VIAŢA and what they would do with the lessons learned there – and so it happened!  None of their families can afford to send them otherwise; the cost of a single week at VIAŢA is almost equivalent to a month’s salary here in the valley.  So when I told them their applications were accepted, they squealed and jumped around, hugging each other and giggling, as 13-year-old girls are wont to do anywhere.

Throughout the past week, they’ve been stopping by the office to drop off permission forms and ask about their luggage.  One of the girls’ moms called me a few times to make sure tennis shoes were okay – the packing list says to bring boots, so she was thinking to send her daughter with snow boots, but I talked her out of that.  Their enthusiasm has been adorable... and contagious.

So yesterday, on a gorgeous, sunny Sunday afternoon, we met near our apartment to send them off.  The three girls were grinning ear-to-ear.  Like my own parents did when I was young, their parents gave them hugs and sent them off with parting instructions as they piled into the van (“Listen to your counselors!”  “Don’t go wandering in the woods alone!”  “Be good!”).  The van pulled away, grinning teenagers hanging out the windows waving, and the moms sniffed while the dads patted their shoulders.  The little brother burst into tears, burying his face in his mom’s stomach and wailing, “I’m going to miiiiiiss her!”  And I just couldn’t help but laugh with delight, at the wonderful familiarity of families loving each other, watching their kids grow up, and sending them off to the great unknown.

I think it’s going to be a great week.

Daruind, devii erou.

By giving, you become a hero.

That's the title of our IMPACT club's most recent project, which we finished just this morning.  For the last few months, our kids have been working to fundraise money for the local children's home (an orphanage/foster care center for youth of all ages here in Lupeni).  It's been quite a journey, and now that we're done I wanted to share some of the most memorable moments.

Like this one: the first time our kids visited the Center.  They had decided at that week's IMPACT meeting that they wanted to do something "to help the poor orphans," but Jack and I were a little skeptical of their plan of gathering hand-me-downs and buying a bunch of candy as a way to really serve.  So we convinced them to come with us and actually visit the Center, meet the kids, look around, and talk to the director to ask what their real needs were.  On the walk there, one of our girls looked at me and said, "I've never been in this neighborhood before."  I was shocked -- it's basically our neighborhood, and Lupeni is small enough that I was astonished you could spend a life here without roaming all of its streets.  But sure enough, their stereotypes were in full swing as I asked them what they thought about "White Crow" (that's the slang name for the area) -- that it's poor, dangerous, full of gypsies.  A suitable place for an orphanage.  I sighed, but at the same time I was proud of them for coming.  And it's a step in the right direction, even if it's a tiny one.

As we approached the building, the same girl whispered to me, "I am worried that when I see the kids there I'm going to cry.  It's just so sad.  How could anyone leave their children?"  I internally sighed again, but I nodded -- I had been to the Center a few times and know that it's clean, bright, and full of kind staff who really do (for the most part) love the children in their care.  But I get it: the idea of being abandoned by your parents is scary and sad, and even the best orphanage in the world can't make up for that.  But still, the care of this Center I think of as a point of light in Lupeni, and so I was glad when, as we walked through the gate, we were met by the happy sounds of children playing ball in the courtyard and our IMPACT kids broke into smiles.  On the way home we talked about how parents who love their children sometimes still can't take care of them, and how it must feel to kids who live at the Center to be pitied or looked down upon at school.  Yes, a few of our IMPACT members still blinked back tears... but I think they were tears of compassion and a slightly larger dose of empathy, instead of pity and fear.  Or at least I hope so.

Our conversation with the Center's director had resulted in our kids deciding to fundraise to buy exercise equipment for the Center.  To do so, they had two strategies: movie nights and fun days for kids.  The movie nights were probably completely illegal, as they involved showing a downloaded feature film on a projector screen to an assembled group of kids, while "requesting" (but really charging) 5 lei for admission and another couple lei for snacks (which, at least, we baked ourselves: popcorn and chocolate chip cookies!).  Over the course of three movies (Big Hero 6, 1000 Words, and Nanny McPhee, if you're wondering... yes, a strange assortment, we agree) the kids raised about 150 lei.

But the real winner -- both in terms of fundraising and fun -- was the Fun Day for little kids.  One bright Saturday we invited neighborhood children to come join us for a few hours of games, arts & crafts, scavenger hunts, and face-painting, all for a mere 5 lei entry ticket.  Almost 60 kids came, and the day was great -- check out the pictures!

From the four events, our kids had collected a total of 445 lei after expenses (about 110 US dollars), and they were really proud of themselves -- especially because that money was mostly in 5 lei and 1 leu notes, meaning the wad of cash was really, really thick!  We didn't have enough money to buy the exercise machine we had hoped for, so we decided to go back to the Center and ask them again what would be useful -- and in our price range.

So yesterday we went back, and as we entered the director's office, we heard them talking about next week's trip to the beach -- and lamenting that they didn't have any spending money to buy snacks or ice cream or sunglasses or anything else.  The IMPACT member standing next to me nudged me, and as we told them we'd come with our money, the staff began to smile.  "You came just in the nick of time," one of the women said.  "We're leaving on Sunday night to take 12 kids to the seaside for a week, and we don't have enough money for the trip.  Would you be willing to help us?"  We looked at each other, smiled, and nodded.  Definitely.

And so today we went, hand-in-hand with six of the children whose lives will be happy and sunny and full of sand next week, to buy flip-flops and swim suits and bubbles and baseball caps.  The money left over we handed to the director for use on ice cream and other summertime happiness accessories.  Not all of our IMPACT kids were able to come to the Center to see the grins on the kids' faces as they prepare for their big trip next week, but we took some pictures so they could see the happiness they'd made possible.  And now you can see it too, in the pictures of these points of light -- these children who are bright and beautiful and next week get to spend a week on the beach!

Showing off new hats and bubbles.

After months of work, most of our IMPACT members couldn't come to the Center today to go shopping and present the cash to the director.  The kids at the Center will never know who most of them are -- but they've made it possible for these kids to have an amazing week, to be loved and spend time in the water and sunshine, and that -- in my opinion -- makes our IMPACT kids heroes.  I guess their project title was pretty accurate after all.

The calm between the storms.

Sorry folks.  We know our blogging has fallen off quite a bit this spring, and here's the reason: we've been crazy, wildly, buried-in-jet-lag-and-work busy.  Jack spent the month of May hosting American interns up on the mountain as they repaired winter damage on the ropes course and prepared camp for the summer season, and I led trainings for IMPACT international in Cambodia and Germany.  In April we were in France for the annual CRWM European spiritual retreat, which was lovely and a breath of fresh air, and then at strategic planning meetings in northwest Romania, and in between there's been office work and IMPACT and the church cantina and girls' group/guys' group and budgeting for next year and planning for summer interns and washing dishes and laundry and... oh yeah, the blog.  Somewhere in there.

But this week we're taking a deep breath and catching up.  We celebrated our 3rd wedding anniversary by spending the weekend with a newly-made pastor friend in Curtea de Argeş, a gorgeous small town on the edge of the Făgăraş mountains, hiking and talking ecclesiology and eating his wife's delicious food.  We've spent the week spending a lot of evenings at home, watching Scrubs and making good dinners and just resting.  It starts again soon: Jack's summer camp interns arrive tomorrow night, as well as our close friends Robert and Becky, who are coming to spend a little over a month helping with English lessons at our church and pastoral care for the summer camp and other great stuff.  We're excited for it all to begin, and I personally feel like I don't know what to do with myself in this, the calm between the storms.  But catching up is good, and good for my tired, distracted soul.  So here are the travels of the last few months, in pictures -- an overview.

Paris, France: CRWM European Spiritual Retreat

Phnom Penh, Cambodia: SKYE Training with World Vision

Stuttgart, Germany: IMPACT Training with Young Life

Potholes.

So you know how we talk often about how lousy the roads in Lupeni are?

Well, finally someone decided to do something about it... and filled in the potholes.  With flowers.

This person, whoever (s)he is, is our new hero.

Life with Bumb.

Our relationship with our IMPACT kids is growing up. As are they. As are we.

When we started at IMPACT 1, we thought we would be with high schooler, doing more intense, interesting, thoughtful projects, having conversations about college, jobs, sexuality, music, hopes for the community, stuff like that.

We got 5th graders instead.

For the first 3 months I wanted to quit, but I knew that eventually I would care enough about the kids that my desire to work and play with and help form them would win out over my desire to run away from them. That sense of care wins much more often these days, unless I'm really tired and need a break from everything, not just 13-year-olds. I've come to love them more and more.

When Bumb first stared coming to IMAPCT, we knew that he was different from the other kids, mainly because they all stayed away from him. He would hit them, call them names, sometimes make threats, and nobody likes that. We really wanted for him to stay in the club--he said that his dad was on disability pay for a mental illness, and that he doesn't talk to his mom. Obviously something is wrong at his house, and IMPACT could be second family for him. That's difficult when he lashes out at the other kids, not always out of anger, but sometimes just because he thinks it's funny and doesn't know how else to get attention. And our kids, like most anyone, wanted him to leave, so he wasn't getting any friendship out of IMPACT.

Things got better when we started sending him home from meetings. He realized that IMPACT, this time that he held so dear, could be taken away from him if he didn't act like an IMPACT member (trustworthy, compassionate, participates in IMAPCT activities...), but also that at least Kelly and I wanted him there because we expected him back the next week. It also gave us a chance to talk to the other kids about how they treat Bumb. They would usually yell at him or hit back, so we explained that his actions are bids for attention, and by responding to negative bids, they reinforce the negative behavior. We asked them to begin to accept him, which has led to many of them kind of ignoring him, but a few trying to engage with him (with varying degrees of success).

Bumb is by far the most reliable IMPACT member where attendance is concerned. He'll come on building clean-up days, gets to meetings 30 minutes early, even stops by the office to make sure we're still doing IMPACT. While we can't always understand what he's saying (mumbled slang is still beyond our Romanian abilities), we hope that by listening we're giving him someone to trust. Whenever we can understand that the mumbles are about him skipping school or fighting, we reiterate that that's not going to help him in the future or the present, and that we expect better from him. We offered to try to help him in school for a while, but then his grades improved. It looks like they're slipping again, so we may dig that offer back up, though neither of us is sure if we have the time or ability to really give him the help he needs. He needs a good school counselor and teachers who are willing to work with him more individually. And IMPACT. His odd little family that still accepts him, even if most of the kids at school stay away from him.

Thanks you for asking about him over Christmas break, those of you who did. Kelly and I feel often that we don't have a whole lot helping us in this situation. A bit of youth work experience and some patience, and hope for him to apply himself in school and to learn how to constructively interact with other people. Your questions about him and prayers are so welcome.