We've been back in Romania for two weeks as of yesterday, after a lovely 2.5-week trip back to the great American Midwest. It's kind-of hard to believe that our time back in that home was such a short time ago. Jet lag seems to create some sort of time warp, and we've settled back into our regular schedules of life here in Lupeni with only a few nights of 2AM "Parks and Recreation" marathons. (Yes, watching endless episodes of Leslie Knope escapades is the recommended Organ method for overcoming -- or at least enjoying -- jet lag.)
But more seriously, the strange disparity of it is hitting me hard this time. I am so happily settled back into life here. Catching up happened quickly after only a couple weeks away, and now the rhythms of going to the office, the cantina, church, visiting friends, making dinner, laundry, dishes... they're all back in place. And yet just two weeks ago, we were on the other side of an ocean. With our families. Some of our oldest friends. Burritos were easily accessible. We drove on American highways and heard only American-accented English and ate American food and walked into American shops. It feels like a dream -- a weird, boring-yet-comforting-and-oddly-jarring-and-familiar-at-the-same-time, dream. It was a lovely visit, but I don't miss it.
Because now we're here, back in this other world, speaking American-accented Romanian and eating Romanian food and walking into Romanian shops. Burritos are not easily accessible. The United States feels a world away. And yet as I write this, back in the U.S., my brother and sister are visiting my grandparents, and my former roommate is doing her seminary homework, and my dog is doing whatever he does on a Saturday afternoon... all as I sit here, on the little couch in our apartment in Lupeni, thinking about these worlds existing at the same time.
It didn't seem strange to me until recently. Jack and I have decided (mostly) that we'll stay in Lupeni for two more years and return to the States at the end of 2017. I just started actively looking into graduate schools, and I think that's what's making this so strange -- knowing that we will be choosing to leave this world, the one that feels so much more real and so much more like home -- to return to the dream-world of family and burritos and driving and Donald Trump (sigh). I am not entirely convinced it's the right decision, hence the hedging of bets in the announcement -- but for the most part I am, and I feel peaceful about it even though it makes me incredibly sad. I missed Romania while were in the States this year. I am not really looking forward to returning to the U.S. permanently, except for the people I love there (and the burritos). I have come to prefer most everything about our life here in Romania, honestly. So two years from now, as I sit on a (hopefully larger) couch in an apartment somewhere in America, perhaps it will bring me comfort to know that these two worlds will still coexist.
Saturday, January 30, 2016
Sunday, December 20, 2015
Christmas in the valley.
There are a lot of amazing things about being here in Lupeni for Christmas this year. One of them is that it's the first time Jack and I actually will stay in Lupeni for a week straight without having to go to work at all -- we can just see our friends! Explore the mountains! Make good food! Take naps! We always go away for our "vacations" -- either back to the US to visit long-missed beloved ones, or to other parts of Romania to explore this new beloved land, or even (very occasionally) elsewhere in Europe because flights are so incredibly cheap on this continent. But this time we're staying put. And look what a wonder it is!
An evening with the girls from church, including two who are home from the holidays from university. We hadn't met for our weekly Bible studies this fall, and gathering again felt like such a homecoming!
A Christmas party with the Lupeni office staff, including good food and lots of laughter.
So thankful for the sense of friendship among these colleagues!
A Christmas carol concert in Pestera Bolii, complete with traditional hymns, a choir of monks, and the fun local caroling traditions -- see below!
Yes, those are giant sheepskins with bells attached. And tinsel hats. And swords in their hands.
Saturday, November 21, 2015
The thief of joy.
Teddy Roosevelt was apparently a very wise man.
His quote, "Comparison is the thief of joy," is a mantra that has been ringing in my head for well over a year now. It may not sound very missionary-esque to say this, but it's really easy to be jealous of others here in Lupeni.
Perhaps it's because we live in a small community, with only a few foreigners, so it's all too easy to keep up on who seems to be most popular, effective, integrated, humble, and hospitable. Whose Romanian is most fluent. Who has the most local friends. Who sees the most effective and sustainable results in their work. Whose house is warmest in the winter ('cause that, I am telling you, is serious stuff!)
But really, I think it's perhaps because living in a culture that's not my own, in a country that's not my own, in an apartment that's not my own, has exposed all sorts of insecurities that were simply hidden back in the States.
I was always jealous and insecure. I just didn't really notice before, because I was always in places I felt accepted, loved, safe, and competent. Now that I am living in a place where I don't always feel those things, I haven't become some crazy person. God's just had the chance to point out that this same ugliness was always lurking under the surface.
Some days I miss the familiarity and comfort and security of our life in the States, in Grand Rapids, back among Calvin friends we loved and trusted -- not only because of their own goodness, but because of how that life made me feel. It was so much easier to be able to hide from my crazy ugly sin there... or at least replace it with a focus on other areas of improvement that didn't shake me quite so much to the core.
But in the last year or two, I think I've been making progress. I have moved from terror and grief at this new self-knowledge (think "weeping puddle on the floor") to this place of acceptance. Not acceptance of the sinfulness that's so deeply embedded in me, but acceptance that God's grace is slowly at work in my life. Acceptance of the pain of being changed, even if it feels like Eustace Scrubb getting his dragon skin ripped off, knowing that underneath is something a little bit closer to Godlikeness. Acceptance of the indisputable realization that God knew about that jealous-needy-angry side way before I stopped hiding or ignoring it, and loved me anyway. (In fact, he probably wasn't the only one who knew about it and loved me anyway...) Acceptance of this long, long road. Of owning up to my own sin. Of asking for forgiveness. Of fighting off jealousy. Of embracing gratitude and joy.
This other missionary writer really helped. Because he says it better than I could, I'm going to quote him here:
... I am getting better at formulating a second thought, which consists mostly of a prayer. It's not a complex prayer. In fact, it's only four words: "I'm sorry" and "Thank you." The complete prayer is this: "I'm Sorry. Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you."
And somewhere in the midst of my prayer I smile. I smile because God is good, because God is working, because others have great stories to share, because it's not all about me, because smiling makes my face feel better even when my heart disagrees, even when the smile doesn't last very long.
It's like waving my arms above my head -- the "sorries" and the "thank yous," the prayers and the smiles -- scaring the birds away.
His quote, "Comparison is the thief of joy," is a mantra that has been ringing in my head for well over a year now. It may not sound very missionary-esque to say this, but it's really easy to be jealous of others here in Lupeni.
Perhaps it's because we live in a small community, with only a few foreigners, so it's all too easy to keep up on who seems to be most popular, effective, integrated, humble, and hospitable. Whose Romanian is most fluent. Who has the most local friends. Who sees the most effective and sustainable results in their work. Whose house is warmest in the winter ('cause that, I am telling you, is serious stuff!)
But really, I think it's perhaps because living in a culture that's not my own, in a country that's not my own, in an apartment that's not my own, has exposed all sorts of insecurities that were simply hidden back in the States.
I was always jealous and insecure. I just didn't really notice before, because I was always in places I felt accepted, loved, safe, and competent. Now that I am living in a place where I don't always feel those things, I haven't become some crazy person. God's just had the chance to point out that this same ugliness was always lurking under the surface.
Some days I miss the familiarity and comfort and security of our life in the States, in Grand Rapids, back among Calvin friends we loved and trusted -- not only because of their own goodness, but because of how that life made me feel. It was so much easier to be able to hide from my crazy ugly sin there... or at least replace it with a focus on other areas of improvement that didn't shake me quite so much to the core.
But in the last year or two, I think I've been making progress. I have moved from terror and grief at this new self-knowledge (think "weeping puddle on the floor") to this place of acceptance. Not acceptance of the sinfulness that's so deeply embedded in me, but acceptance that God's grace is slowly at work in my life. Acceptance of the pain of being changed, even if it feels like Eustace Scrubb getting his dragon skin ripped off, knowing that underneath is something a little bit closer to Godlikeness. Acceptance of the indisputable realization that God knew about that jealous-needy-angry side way before I stopped hiding or ignoring it, and loved me anyway. (In fact, he probably wasn't the only one who knew about it and loved me anyway...) Acceptance of this long, long road. Of owning up to my own sin. Of asking for forgiveness. Of fighting off jealousy. Of embracing gratitude and joy.
This other missionary writer really helped. Because he says it better than I could, I'm going to quote him here:
... I am getting better at formulating a second thought, which consists mostly of a prayer. It's not a complex prayer. In fact, it's only four words: "I'm sorry" and "Thank you." The complete prayer is this: "I'm Sorry. Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you."
And somewhere in the midst of my prayer I smile. I smile because God is good, because God is working, because others have great stories to share, because it's not all about me, because smiling makes my face feel better even when my heart disagrees, even when the smile doesn't last very long.
It's like waving my arms above my head -- the "sorries" and the "thank yous," the prayers and the smiles -- scaring the birds away.
Friday, November 20, 2015
19 degrees, baby (celsius, that is).
Our office got gas heating a week ago. We're happy.
Like, really happy.
Like, this happy.
We definitely made that face when we walked into the office and it was warm. I can now get to the office in the morning and take off my coat. Kelly isn't working under a blanket. We're not huddling ourselves around weak electric heaters. It's so great. We're more productive. In better moods. Don't go home freezing anymore.
So be happy too!
Like, really happy.
Like, this happy.
We definitely made that face when we walked into the office and it was warm. I can now get to the office in the morning and take off my coat. Kelly isn't working under a blanket. We're not huddling ourselves around weak electric heaters. It's so great. We're more productive. In better moods. Don't go home freezing anymore.
So be happy too!
Friday, November 6, 2015
In the news.
Romania's making international news!
It's a rarity, so we thought we should acknowledge it here too. Because this news is both tragic and hopeful, both terrible and full of promise.
On Halloween, a fire broke out at a nightclub in Bucharest. Apparently the band had decided to shoot off fireworks indoors, and the interior soundproofing materials which covered the club quickly caught fire. With only a single exit and pieces of burning insulation falling from the ceiling, things quickly turned into chaos. It didn't take long until the roof collapsed. Thirty-two people were killed on the scene, with another hundred-some taken to the hospital with critical burns and other injuries. Blame for this tragedy can be placed in a lot of places: on the nightclub owners, who allowed a band to shoot off fireworks in a place clearly not-fireproofed; on the fire marshal and other inspectors, who allowed the business to remain open despite clear violations of code; on a general culture of corruption and bribery that allows regulations to be enforced only for those who can't pay to skip over them. Romanians are furious about the event, and the owners of the club have been arrested and multiple officials have already resigned -- including the mayor of that sector of Bucharest, the interior minister, and the prime minister, Victor Ponta.
Since Sunday, there have been protests happening across the country. On Wednesday I was on the bus for much of the day, returning to Lupeni from a conference, and the reporters on the radio just kept adding to the number of protesters they counted in Bucharest's University Square -- by 10pm it was well over 30,000. Many of the protesters are young, and they're sad and furious. "People shouldn't have to die for us to deal with these issues," President Klaus Iohannis said. But in this case, people did die, and the horror of it has Romanians on the streets.
It will be a long road to truly arrive in a place where democracy and rule of law function without corruption -- I'm not sure there's a country anywhere in the world that's truly corruption-free. But the level of obvious corruption in Romania has had terrible consequences, and we are praying that the protests will lead to some serious and profound changes.
We've seen signs saying Bunicii la război, parinții la revoluție, acum este rândul nostru! -- or in English, "Our grandparents had the [world] war, our parents had the revolution [to end communism], now it's our turn!" It might be true -- this might be the wake-up call that this generation of young Romanians need to truly get involved in making their country a place they want to live. But please join us in praying that there will be wisdom, and patience, and prudence along the way. A lot of people died in the war and the revolution. Pray that no one else will die in this fight -- and especially that hope for an end to corruption would stay alive.
It's a rarity, so we thought we should acknowledge it here too. Because this news is both tragic and hopeful, both terrible and full of promise.
On Halloween, a fire broke out at a nightclub in Bucharest. Apparently the band had decided to shoot off fireworks indoors, and the interior soundproofing materials which covered the club quickly caught fire. With only a single exit and pieces of burning insulation falling from the ceiling, things quickly turned into chaos. It didn't take long until the roof collapsed. Thirty-two people were killed on the scene, with another hundred-some taken to the hospital with critical burns and other injuries. Blame for this tragedy can be placed in a lot of places: on the nightclub owners, who allowed a band to shoot off fireworks in a place clearly not-fireproofed; on the fire marshal and other inspectors, who allowed the business to remain open despite clear violations of code; on a general culture of corruption and bribery that allows regulations to be enforced only for those who can't pay to skip over them. Romanians are furious about the event, and the owners of the club have been arrested and multiple officials have already resigned -- including the mayor of that sector of Bucharest, the interior minister, and the prime minister, Victor Ponta.
Since Sunday, there have been protests happening across the country. On Wednesday I was on the bus for much of the day, returning to Lupeni from a conference, and the reporters on the radio just kept adding to the number of protesters they counted in Bucharest's University Square -- by 10pm it was well over 30,000. Many of the protesters are young, and they're sad and furious. "People shouldn't have to die for us to deal with these issues," President Klaus Iohannis said. But in this case, people did die, and the horror of it has Romanians on the streets.
It will be a long road to truly arrive in a place where democracy and rule of law function without corruption -- I'm not sure there's a country anywhere in the world that's truly corruption-free. But the level of obvious corruption in Romania has had terrible consequences, and we are praying that the protests will lead to some serious and profound changes.
We've seen signs saying Bunicii la război, parinții la revoluție, acum este rândul nostru! -- or in English, "Our grandparents had the [world] war, our parents had the revolution [to end communism], now it's our turn!" It might be true -- this might be the wake-up call that this generation of young Romanians need to truly get involved in making their country a place they want to live. But please join us in praying that there will be wisdom, and patience, and prudence along the way. A lot of people died in the war and the revolution. Pray that no one else will die in this fight -- and especially that hope for an end to corruption would stay alive.
Tuesday, October 27, 2015
A different sort of trust.
So, our work here revolves around building trust among people so that as Romania develops, more people will have the willingness and skills to work together rather than looking out mainly for themselves.
What's interesting about living here for almost three years now is that I'm seeing ways that Romanians (at least in our small town, but in bigger cities sometimes too) trust each other in ways that I rarely see Americans doing. Not that we're trying to teach Romanian youth to trust each other like Americans do, but I have seen that us in the US are better, in general, at collaborating in the workplace and between churches. Big generalization, but I've seen it.
However, here, there's a different sort of trust. People sometimes leave their cars running while they run into the store to get something quick. Moms leave their infants outside in strollers while they shop. Kids leave their bikes lying on the street for a few minutes. Kindergardeners walk to school on their own.
It's how I've heard of the States being back in the 50's. I hope that Lupeni doesn't lose that as Romania develops economically and democratically. Maybe the sidewalks don't look great and there are plenty of drunk pensioners on the streets, but at least you can still leave your bike there and not worry that it'll get stolen.
What's interesting about living here for almost three years now is that I'm seeing ways that Romanians (at least in our small town, but in bigger cities sometimes too) trust each other in ways that I rarely see Americans doing. Not that we're trying to teach Romanian youth to trust each other like Americans do, but I have seen that us in the US are better, in general, at collaborating in the workplace and between churches. Big generalization, but I've seen it.
However, here, there's a different sort of trust. People sometimes leave their cars running while they run into the store to get something quick. Moms leave their infants outside in strollers while they shop. Kids leave their bikes lying on the street for a few minutes. Kindergardeners walk to school on their own.
It's how I've heard of the States being back in the 50's. I hope that Lupeni doesn't lose that as Romania develops economically and democratically. Maybe the sidewalks don't look great and there are plenty of drunk pensioners on the streets, but at least you can still leave your bike there and not worry that it'll get stolen.
Sunday, October 25, 2015
Now let's all just settle down for a bit.
So yes, I know we keep saying, "We're sorry it's been a long time since we've written and this is what's happening in our lives..."
I'll do that again but without the apology.
This is what has been happening in our lives. In March, I (Jack) got some lung infection and was out for three weeks while Kelly helped down the fort. In April, I took two short work trips, we went to France for the 2015 CRWM Europe and Egypt missionary retreat, and then went to Cluj for a CRWM strategic meeting. In May, Kelly led IMPACT and SKYE trainings in Cambodia and Germany, and I got the VIATA ropes course ready along with two volunteers from CRWM. In June, we celebrated our anniversary at a friend's place a few hours away, and then my sumer interns came. We did a training week, and then camp started. We had a good summer (over 500 kids!! and we developed a new program that includes more hiking), but that meant that I was up on the mountain while Kelly diligently worked down in the valley in the office where the sunlight has a hard time reaching. I was done with camp in the middle of August, and we took a few days of vacation (camping in AWESOME places), and then I went to a training in Georgia for 9 days. That brought us into September, in which we went on the Study Abroad Program backpacking trip for a week, I had another week of camp, we had a week together in Lupeni, and then Kelly's parents came. They had a great two-week visit, and when they left, we left to the States to go to a good good friend's wedding and see a few people.
And now we're back. :)
It's messed with us, being out of a rhythm and apart for so long. We're not in danger of going crazy or suddenly leaving or anything drastic, but it's good to think that Kelly has only two trips left this year, and one of them very short. We can be here. Present in our place. Not trying desperately to be present in whichever place we find ourselves in any given week. I guess we're young and our bodies can still mostly take it, but it's getting hard on our hearts. We're really excited to settle into rhythms of work and being with people and prayer and church and not have to think about finishing all the food in the fridge before we go on our next trip.
If you think about it, ask us how it's going in a week. Or two or three. I'm curious myself.
I'll do that again but without the apology.
This is what has been happening in our lives. In March, I (Jack) got some lung infection and was out for three weeks while Kelly helped down the fort. In April, I took two short work trips, we went to France for the 2015 CRWM Europe and Egypt missionary retreat, and then went to Cluj for a CRWM strategic meeting. In May, Kelly led IMPACT and SKYE trainings in Cambodia and Germany, and I got the VIATA ropes course ready along with two volunteers from CRWM. In June, we celebrated our anniversary at a friend's place a few hours away, and then my sumer interns came. We did a training week, and then camp started. We had a good summer (over 500 kids!! and we developed a new program that includes more hiking), but that meant that I was up on the mountain while Kelly diligently worked down in the valley in the office where the sunlight has a hard time reaching. I was done with camp in the middle of August, and we took a few days of vacation (camping in AWESOME places), and then I went to a training in Georgia for 9 days. That brought us into September, in which we went on the Study Abroad Program backpacking trip for a week, I had another week of camp, we had a week together in Lupeni, and then Kelly's parents came. They had a great two-week visit, and when they left, we left to the States to go to a good good friend's wedding and see a few people.
And now we're back. :)
It's messed with us, being out of a rhythm and apart for so long. We're not in danger of going crazy or suddenly leaving or anything drastic, but it's good to think that Kelly has only two trips left this year, and one of them very short. We can be here. Present in our place. Not trying desperately to be present in whichever place we find ourselves in any given week. I guess we're young and our bodies can still mostly take it, but it's getting hard on our hearts. We're really excited to settle into rhythms of work and being with people and prayer and church and not have to think about finishing all the food in the fridge before we go on our next trip.
If you think about it, ask us how it's going in a week. Or two or three. I'm curious myself.
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