I don’t even know where to start. I took detailed notes on the happenings of every single day, and there are a million pictures, but I have no idea how to write this post. All I know is I left part of my heart in Romania.
If I tried to write the step-by-step for every day, the post for this trip would join the others in the “I’ll write about it asap” (which is code for “when my life is no longer insane” which is code for “maybe before I die”). So, instead, I’m going to try, for your sake and mine, to write down my thoughts. It won’t be about what I did, but it will be about what happened in my heart while I was doing it.
Romania has been the most incredible experience of my European semester. Hands down. I knew it would be. I was so tired of just going from country to country, feeling so completely tourist-y. Run around. Take pictures. Eat some food. See some cool things. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’ve been so indescribably blessed in Europe. I’ve seen things that I never dreamed I would be able to see. The Shrine of Divine Mercy. Apparition Hill. St. Peter’s Basilica… I can’t believe what I’ve seen. I’m just grateful. So very, very grateful.
Week after week I’ve walked on holy ground. One place after another, I’ve been blessed. I’ve been given a deeper understanding of what I already knew, and a deeper appreciation for who I am. I’ve been moved to tears, both of awe and of sorrow. Everything from St. Peter’s to Auschwitz. Still, I’ve had a strange sense of waiting. I knew Europe would change me. Not just because everyone said it would, but because I knew, in my heart, that God had something here for me. He told me. I’ve changed in little ways. A deeper appreciation for my Church. A deeper love for my faith. A deeper passion for my God. A deeper devotion to my Mother. A new perspective on my life, on who I am for better or for worse. I’ve come to terms with some things about myself that need to change, and I’ve been working on letting His love and grace change them. He’s shown me a glimpse of who I am through His eyes, and I’m working on accepting and loving that person. Understanding truth, beauty, love, goodness, darkness, sin, shame… how they work together and against each other and what I’m called to do with them. The peace that comes with letting Him love me and teach me how to love, and the courage it takes to fight what would destroy that peace. The humility to fight it in little ways instead of the ways that would draw attention to myself. It’s been a big semester, and I know that is only the tip of the iceberg. I’ve barely even had a chance to process.
I know. Considering everything He’s already done for me, it’s almost ridiculous of me to have been waiting for more. I was though. I knew there was still something… some crucial piece that I didn’t have yet.
Calm down, this isn’t the climax. I still have no idea what it is.
(I just know I have it.)
Make sense Marriana. Seriously.
Ok. So. Romania.
Like I said at the beginning of this thing, I’m not going to go into detail on what we did there. Not yet. It would take way too long. However, in order to understand what I’m about to say, you have to have a vague idea of what went down. The basic idea is that we were on mission. There were about 20 of us total. 14 of us were in Baia Mare (By-a-mar-ay) and 6 of us stayed in Turt, about an hour and a half away. I was in Baia Mare. We lived and worked with Sacro Cuore (Sacred Heart) Foundation – which serves as an orphanage, day care, and whatever else is needed. There are currently nine girls living in the orphanage between the ages of four and nineteen. The foundation is run by Claudia, who is amazing, and Sister Rosalba, who is one of the holiest women in the world and the best Italian cook I’ve ever encountered. Every day we woke up and had Mass (celebrated by Fr. Jo, a Chinese priest studying in Gaming) and breakfast. Then we broke up. Some of us went to the local high schools and spoke to the students (most Romanian high school students speak fantastic English). Some of us went to the local hospital and painted Disney characters on the walls in the kids wing. Some of us stayed at the foundation and worked with the younger kids. We all came back around lunch time, after which we either took free time or played with the children who came to the daycare. These kids were from some of the poorest parts of town. The way they loved… there just aren’t words. They were so beautiful.
Around 5pm we gathered for a quick break and some tea (I was meant for this place.). Then we went over to the daycare building and helped out with English lessons. There were three levels – beginner, intermediate, and advanced. I worked with the advanced group all week, which means that I was basically just hanging out and playing grammar games with high school kids. It was awesome. After the English lessons came my favorite part. Songs. Prayers. Talks. We got to catechize (fancy word for “teach about God”) the high school kids. That was the basic layout of every day, with some slight variations thrown in.
I went to the hospital a couple times, but for the most part I spent my mornings in the high schools. I loved it so much. Most of the classes I spoke in took a little while to warm up, but as soon as they did, they were super curious. The younger kids were mainly interested in things like American music, movies, what we do in our free time, etc. You could tell that they were a little unsure of themselves when it came to the English language and were primarily sticking with the questions that they had learned/practiced before. The older kids were another story though. For the most part, they took more time to open up, but when they did, they wanted the truth. They asked my opinion about Obama, the war in Libya and Iraq. They asked what I thought of Lady Gaga, and whether or not I go to wicked-crazy parties. All of the classes were curious to see whether or not America was like the movies. I am so, so grateful that they were hearing from Franciscan Americans. Instead of going into details about the craziest party I’ve ever been to, I was able to share some truth with them. I was able to talk to them about how the people I know who live the party life aren’t really happy –how the high or the buzz or the pleasure or whatever it is that they might be chasing is over long before they are satisfied. We were able to point the kids towards true happiness and satisfaction. Peace. All that good stuff that comes with faith. We didn’t shove anything down their throats, we just talked to them. Here’s the crazy part: they listened. Seriously.
It was incredible. Just because we were Americans, we had an almost instantaneous celebrity status. We would walk down the street, and people would literally stop what they were doing to look at us, and the more bold kids would go out of their way to say “hi.” not so much to be welcoming (though everyone made us feel comfortable and at home), but just for the sake of being able to say that they talked to us. It was crazy. At first I was a little put off by it. I mean, attention is fun, but I have enough problems with pride as it is. Rolling out the red carpet isn’t exactly going to help with that, and besides, I’m definitely the last person who deserves to be getting special treatment anyways, that’s for darn sure. It was a little weird, until I realized something. They were hanging on every word we said. That means that if we had told them to go hit up the party life, some of them would have considered it written in stone. It was almost scary. That’s why I’m so grateful we were able to be the ones talking to them. It also probably helped that they weren’t used to hearing people speak about making good choices so publically and confidently, especially when those good choices are intrinsically tied to faith. Romania is still feeling the effects of communism and, though they have religious freedom now, it’s still not something that is openly discussed, which means we had their full attention. It was awesome. I’ve never spoken to a group that was more captivated by the words being said. Their hearts were so open! God was able to move so much. It was amazing.
Humility. If I had to pick one overarching theme of the mission trip, I would have to say humility. It’s almost ironic. I was put in front of people and given more attention than almost ever before, and God taught me about being humble. There were definitely temptations to take pride in what was going on. I love speaking to groups, and I’m good at it. I’m totally aware that I’m only good at it because it’s what God’s designed me for, but sometimes it’s really easy to feel like I’m the one doing the awesome job. Ha. Dumb joke. Luckily, I was given an absolutely incredible mission team. I was able to be open with them and ask them to help keep my head from getting too big, and they did so. Everyone was so quick to help, to love, and to support. What God accomplished through us was so wonderful, in the end there was basically no way I could even pretend I did it by myself. (:
Consider this part one. I figure you’d rather read this now than wait for me to finish thinking things out. ; )
