I'm not going to lie: by the end of the third week in Romania (the third week out of my home -- out of possessing any personal space or time) I was dragging. I was tired and it didn't take much to aggravate me. On top of it all, I was pretty sure I was coming down with a cold -- just in time for the new mission trip team full of nervous first-time-mission-trip people to arrive expecting me to know everything. Including how to speak Hungarian.
Because energy is one of my best friends, coffee is my chosen drug. That is one of the convenient things in Romania: coffee. I learned to drink coffee in Romania -- I was seventeen and jet-lag had set in hard and heavy. Coffee had always been a disappointment to me before (due to its lack of sweetness), but at that point on that first mission trip, I wouldn't have cared if it tasted like tar as long as it kept my eyes open. (It's not good when the Sunday school teacher falls asleep during the lesson.)
Romanian coffee is ingenious: normal coffee is brewed as strong as espresso -- and you drink a whole cup full! Yay!
So I was quite surprised that on the first day of the mission trip, one of our enthusiastic team members drank five cups of coffee in an attempt to shake off the jet-lag just long enough to minister to some orphans.
By the time we got to the orphanage, the caffeine was really getting to him; but he didn't let it show and did a great job with the children anyway. The Romanians were impressed that he lasted so long.
When that first day of the mission trip began, I still wasn't sure if I were going to get sick or not. I desperately did not want to -- because I was supposed to be ministering to people, but I am not a very fun person to be around when I'm sick.
And I knew that would be my breaking point: getting sick.
So I prayed that God wouldn't let me get sick. That if I had the virus already, that it would remain dormant until the day I had to travel back to the US. That if I had to get sick, God would hold it off until I wasn't in Romania anymore.
The mission trip team was great. I was really proud of how they accepted several cultural aspects of Europe that didn't make sense to them: even though they were sometimes uncomfortable, they would be okay with those seemingly-foreign habits because they hadn't come to be comfortable; they had come to show God's love to the people. They respected and loved the Romanian people and were excited to tell their testimonies.
It was a blessing to me that the team from Faith Bible Church had come because I was physically, emotionally, and spiritually drained. I didn't have time to worry about anything because my teammates had already taken care of everything. I absolutely love it when the body of Christ works together and bears each other's burdens!
God answered my prayer: I didn't get sick at all during the whole mission trip! I was able to be cheerful and to truly enjoy God's people and His presence. The night before we had to fly back to the US, the cold started to manifest itself. I spent all three flights in a semi-conscious state due to Nyquil. I don't remember very well, but I think the stewardesses appreciated one less active passenger.
Ok, so I have now been back in the US for a little more than a month.
I am trying to live out God's love in my everyday life and make Him the center of my existence.
Going on mission trips always reminds me just how much of an opportunity I have to spread the light of the gospel in my own country, in my local community.
Where there isn't a language barrier.
And I (kinda) understand the culture.
0 lovely remarks:
Post a Comment