Greselute

One of the things I've noticed about Romanian language is that they often use the diminutive form of a noun to express themselves better. Usually it's used when we would say, "Cute little..." For example, a table is masa, a small table is masuta. A house is casa, a cute little house is a casuta. A niece is a nepoata, a sweet, little baby niece it a nepotica. (I've been talking about Baby Sarah lately!) Katy was referred to by a taxi driver a few weeks ago as "papusica", not just a doll, but a little doll.  

Ed received a nice compliment from our friend Angela last night after leading a lengthy Bible Study in Romanian on the holiness of God. After the study, Angela and I were discussing how well Ed did in both leading and speaking. I said, "His mistakes (greseli) were fewer tonight."  

Angela's response made me smile. "Those weren't mistakes. They were just few "greselute"--little mistakes.

A strange request

On Tuesday, the kids and I were sitting outside soaking up sunshine on an unusually warm day in late February. A friend and former teacher of the kids, Jo Stebbing, had stopped by for a visit with her little boy. She's British and he's a gypsy orphan. They've been together for 3 1/2 years now, and she's trying with all her might to legally adopt him. It's really comical to hear, "Mum, can't I just pop in the house and use the toilet?" with an perfect British accent coming from the mouth of this dark eyed, dark skinned, dark haired gypsy kid, who would normally be found dirty, skinny, and standing on the street somewhere begging. It made me laugh, and at the same time, made me grateful. For Jo and for Alex, but also for myself. 

I am that gypsy kid, skinny, dirty, begging, with no hope. And I was taken in, loved, and given a place of belonging which has changed the way I live. Belonging to a Father who loves me and cares for me must change me. 

As Jo and I talked I realized that the illustration goes even further. Alex isn't yet adopted. Romania is closed to international adoptions, which is sad because there are so many kids who need good homes. Hospitals and orphanages are full of kids who have no place to go. Several years ago, a system was set up to try to help the situation, for kids in the orphanage to have a "maternal assistant" to care for them. It's sort of a foster child arrangement, which still leaves kids without what they most need: belonging, permanence, security.

Jo began this relationship with Alex when he was 1 1/2 years, in a manner of speaking. I'm not sure of all the details, but somehow, her "maternal assistant" role could only be part time. She took Alex every weekend for over a year. When she realized that she and he both needed more time together, she unofficially took him in, with the hope of adopting him when she gained residency. Now there's a hang up with her residency, though she's an EU citizen, and the process is very much on hold. She has Alex all the time now, which has given him the discipline, order, and good health that he badly needed, but the papers aren't signed. She can't leave the country with him. He's not hers. 

He calls her Mum. She loves him. He loves her. She provides for his physical needs, but they both live in a sense of fear. What if.... the child protection services comes and takes him away? ....someone stops by for a visit and sees the knot on his head from a bike accident and calls Jo unfit? ... the law changes again? ... something calls Jo back to England without Alex? ... her love for her fiance outweighs her love for Alex and she gives up? There's a lack of permanence, assurance, and security for them both.
Holding that image in mind, I'll take you to a statement that was made at Bible Study Thursday night. My friend said, "The way I see it, because God gives us a choice, though He's sovereign, one day, I could choose to walk away, to turn my back on God. There is no assurance of salvation, really." 

What is missing in her theology? The doctrine of Adoption. When we are adopted by the King of the Universe, we belong. We can run, but He holds us fast. We may be dirty, ugly, skinny, hungry gypsy kids, but are His. And because we belong, it is permanent, we are sure, and we have an amazing security that relieves us of the fear that is ours because we know our wandering hearts. Yet, He knows our wandering hearts better than we and He takes them and seals them, signs the papers making us His with His blood.
So, all of this is going through my mind as I'm talking with Jo, thanking God for adopting me and the security that is mine in Him. My thoughts are interrupted by shouts coming from our front gate. A raspy, "Vecina! Vechina!" calling me, her neighbor, to the gate. I approach, smiling, wondering what she's up to. I ask her if I can help her with something.
She says, "Yes. You have a male dog, don't you?"
I'm wondering what Luther did to get in trouble, and reply slowly, "Yes. Why?"
"We need him to come over to our house for a while." She must have seen the confusion on my face and continued, "Our female dog is going crazy. She's in heat and she needs male dog. She needs it. Can you bring yours over?"
I'm thinking, can she be serious?? Looking at her pleading eyes, I realize she is. What to say... "You know, our dog was sick as a puppy and then he had an accident that resulted in a broken hip. He doesn't really do that. Sorry."
Now, she looks confused. "But our dog is going crazy. She needs a male dog. Now."
Hmmm..."You know, we have a female dog. She goes into heat every 6 months. It makes her mood change and she doesn't act the same, but she really can do without a male dog. In fact, unless you want a lot of puppies, it's best that she not have time with a male dog."
We went back and forth for a while, until I think she understood, though I'm not sure she agreed.
Oh, well. That's one place where helping means saying, "No."

Does he look like he's upset with me for interfering in his love life?

Report from Ski Camp

Dear friends and family,
I just wanted to say "Thank you" for praying for me while I was at camp. I had a great time and met a lot of people there who I hope I will remain in touch with. I snowboarded every day for four days. We had a great worship time every morning and evening, with small groups at night. We talked about identity, what we find it in, and what is a realistic view of identity. We played lots of games, went sledding, had a ski/snowboarding race, not to mention my favorite part, just hanging out with people my age. I had a friend here say that my Romanian had gotten better since last week befor camp. I talked in Romanian almost non stop, which was pretty hard. Some of the people I met live in Brasov, so I plan to see them often. It's been pretty hard not having any friends here (my only good friend that I met 2 years ago moved to Germany), so I was really excited to meet some people my age there.
As some of you know, I turned 15 at camp. I was slightly nervous about celebrating my birthday away from home, but it turned out to be really fun. The leaders woke me and my roommate up by singing "Happy Birthday" in English, Romanian, and German. I got a Snickers bar and other candy, plus everyone kept wishing me a happy birthday throughout the day. I won't forget my 15th birthday for a long time.
Abigail

The Word of God

I think it's Alistair Begg's church that has the statement on their bulletin:  "You have exalted above all things your name and your word," from Psalm 138:2.  I know that's true. I know it is powerful, sharper than any two edged sword. It is light. It is truth. It is life. Yet...there's this unbelieving part of my heart that questions the power of the Word.  It shows in how little I include God's Word in my prayers, conversations, thoughts.  I've been confronted lately with my own unbelief. I've also seen the opposite.  We meet weekly with people from our Bible Study group, Ed with the men and I with the women. Last week we were reading an article by Phillip Yancy, quotes by Tozer, Lewis, Wesley, and Grudem.  I underlined parts of all of them and was struck by their reflections and applications. Then, my friend Monica said, "I like reading what others have to say. I think it's helpful. But the Word of God is what changes hearts."  Wow!  You have to realize that Monica wasn't a believer 2 years ago, had never read God's Word, and certainly didn't know it's power. For her to know and then quote, "Faith comes by hearing and hearing by the Word of God," is evidence of God's work in her heart.   

A few weeks ago, my friend Angela came over to visit. We drank tea and talked about what she's been reading in Luke. She liked how Jesus talked about loving the poor, lame, blind. I asked her if she thought in our culture the gypsies would be included in those Jesus commanded us to love. She thought for a second and said, "Maybe."  That's a stretch for a Romanian who has been taught from birth that gypsies are beneath them.  They are liars, thieves, dirty, and uneducated.  And they can't be changed.  That's another story in itself: the gypsy culture. So,  that somehow led us to the subject of life under communism. She told me stories about waiting in line for soap and making it from pig fat when there was none.  Can you imagine that smell?!  She described what it was like in high school when every fall, all students, employees, and families were required to harvest the crops on the collective farms. She was grateful that her crop was corn and not potatoes. That was the worst, especially on the back.  They got to keep nothing and except what they could hide in their pockets, and worked for 3-4 weeks to bring in the harvest for the government.  She said that Ceaucescu asked each city head for the bushel count. They always lied. If it was 200 bushels, they said 300. Then Ceaucescu told them to bring in 500 the next year. I asked how that was possible. She said, "It wasn't. They lied every year to make themselves look better. Ceaucescu didn't really believe them, either, it just made him look good, so he went along with it."  A culture of deceit and deceit rewarded. 

 It's really hard for my American mind to imagine what they experienced, but listening to their stories helps me understand them. I asked lots of questions and she answered for about an hour. Finally, Angela said, "That's enough. I like talking about the Bible much more than Ceaucescu."  

We walked in the park yesterday, Angela and I, and stopped to eat some pastries that she bought. It was a beautiful sunny day, perfect for an outside visit. We sat, ate, talked, watched the kids on the playground. Then she pulled out her New Testament from her pocket and started asking questions about Luke. (She really likes that book.) I sat there, thanking God, that this dear friend of mine who had never really read the Bible until a few months ago, is hungry for it.  

"May the Word of God dwell richly in my heart from hour to hour. So that all may see I triumph only through His power."

Abigail

Our red-headed, almost 15-year-old sporting her new ski jacket before leaving for camp.

Today, Abigail left for ski camp. It's her first solo Romanian event, and she left excited mixed with a big dose of anxiety.  She'll also turn 15 at camp, so that's a pretty big deal. We keep shaking our heads when we think that Abi could be driving if we were in Mississippi. It's probably a good thing we're not!  

I was thinking today about our kids and thanking God for each of them, praying for them, worrying a little and then trying to turn that worry into prayer.  One of the things that I'm so thankful for is their adaptability.  I dropped Abigail off today at the home of a girl whom she'd never met before. She rode with her and her dad and 3 other girls to a place she'd never been before, a ski resort about an hour away.  She'll spend the better part of a week with strangers, who we're praying will become friends, speaking a language that we're praying will come with greater ease. That's a pretty big deal. I'm not sure I'd have done that as a 15 year old. In fact, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't.  

The other day, my dad asked me how to respond to people in Kosciusko when they ask how I am. I said, after some thought, "Grateful."  Not always, but overarchingly. And I'm learning to sacrifice thank offerings (Ps. 50). I think our kids are learning this, too. It's not necessarily fun to not have a friend group with which to hang out. It can be lonely to be at a school made up of family members. It's really challenging to relate to people in another language, especially when you don't know them.  Katy observed when filling out college applications that living in Romania has left lots of holes: no clubs, awards, or teams to fill time and a resume.  But...  I think they'd each say their lives are full.  We give thanks for the friends God's given us. For our team. For our family. For Skype that lets us keep in touch with family. For the Romanians who love us, are patient with us and include us graciously in their world. For kids who are adaptable and adventurous. 

Speaking of adventurous, Abigail, you'll notice in the picture, has colored her hair red. Enough said.

So, if you read this sometime while Abigail's at camp, please pray for her. 

Cravings

With somewhat regularity, we have people from the States asking what they can send to us that might make us smile, things we can't find here.  In the beginning, that list was really long. It has shrunk over the last couple of years, in part due to more shopping options here, (We can actually get Dr. Pepper on occasion, and I've even seen Tobasco!), partly because we've either adjusted our tastes or expectations, and also because we stocked up when the Ebbers shipped over a container. I like to think we're acclimating.  Katy has learned to make Reece's Peanut Butter Cups, which are actually pretty good. I've got a great hot chocolate recipe.  We drink our drinks without ice, eat frozen vegetables in the winter time, and have learned to make a lot from scratch.  No one's complaining and no one is starving, that's for sure.

But, still, we have cravings: for a good hamburger cooked on Big Daddy's Viking Grill, Chick-Fil- A, Krispy Kream, and Daniel even craves the Mexican restaurant in Kosciusko. They'd be pleased to know that.

So, this weekend, Ed was gone to Germany for meetings and I had a little extra time on my hands. While I don't consider myself much of a baker, I decided to try a new recipe. There's this website we discovered that has copycat recipes that really come in handy when we have cravings. For those of us who don't have ready access to Panera Bread, we found a recipe for their brocolli cheese soup. I've found pizza crust from Pizzaria Uno, and Abi once saw a recipe for Oreos, that we've yet to try. Yesterday, I made Cinnabon Cinnamon Rolls.  OK, so I'm not such a sweet tooth person, but oh my! These are divine! I could hardly stop myself from eating them, and they weren't too time consuming to make.  The recipe makes a lot and they are scrumptious!!  All we needed was a good hot cup of Starbucks to go with it.

Cinnabon Cinnamon Rolls

2 pkg yeast

1 c hot water

2/3 c sugar

1 t sugar

1 c warm milk

2/3 c butter

2 t salt

2 beaten eggs

7 c flour

Mix the water, yeast and 1 t sugar.  In another bowl, mix milk, 2/3 c sugar (I used a little less), salt, butter, eggs. Add to the yeast.  Add the flour slowly, knead 5-10 min, cover and let rise in a warm place 1-1/2 hours. Punch down. Let rest 5 min. Roll out 15" x 20".

Mix 1 c melted butter, 1 3/4 c sugar, 3 T cinnamon, 1 1/2 c walnuts chopped. Spread over dough. Roll up and pinch to seal. Cut into 16 slices.  

Coat the bottom of a 9 x 13 (or bigger if you have it) with butter. Sprinkle with sugar. Place the rolls in the pan. Let rise 5 minutes. Bake at 350 for 30-40 minutes (I left mine in longer b/c the inside wasn't quite done). 

When cool pour glaze on top:  2/3 c melted butter; 2 c powdered sugar; 2 t vanilla; 6 T hot water. Combine.

Catching up

I know you're supposed to publish a blog a day or whatever, but I've had a load of pictures to post from Christmas and New Years, and this was the only time I've had time to do it with all the computers free. We've got pictures scattered across 3 computers, so I needed access to all of them to make this work. Katy and Abi were at the gypsy market buying a skirt sworn to have been worn by Bionce', you know the singer who was in the new Pink Panther movie. The gypsy even gave Katy a deal, offering it to her for 10 RON, about 4 dollars.  Daniel had been at a sleep over with Nicholas, Jonah and Sam Hoe, and Aaron Ebbers at Nic's place, so he was tired and crawled in the hammock that he's got attached below his loft and watched hunting videos.  Ed was in the barn all day finishing, or almost finishing, the guest room. All of you who are afraid that if you visit we may stick you out there:  Fear no longer!  It is lovely! Quaint. Cozy. You'll be begging to stay out there. I'll post pictures next time.  It's been Ed's handiwork, literally. Without hunting, he's needed outlets and the barn has been a great opportunity for him to do something with his hands that is totally unrelated to the weight he carries with the rest of the work here.  So, for many different reasons, I'm grateful for the barn/guest house/cabin-uta!