Thoughts from Moldova
On July 2, 2010 I left the country for the very first time. I feel like the first time a lot of people leave the US they go to somewhere exotic, like on a cruise to someplace with a lot of sand and sun, or to places like France or Italy or England. That was not the case for me. Instead, my first trip abroad was to the smallest and poorest country in Europe. A place most people have never heard of. A place called Moldova.
We arrived and met the rest of our team at Nashville International Airport before the sun came up. I wasn’t really anxious about the flight or anything like that. After all, I fly for work all the time. My biggest fear was that I would do something dumb and lose my passport somewhere. It was weird to think, “If I don’t keep track of this little pocket-sized book, getting home is not going to be easy.” Needless to say, that little book was on me at all times, and like someone with OCD, I checked my secure, double-buttoned cargo pocket of my shorts religiously.
After a long flight over the Atlantic and a quick layover in Munich, we arrived Saturday morning in the capital city of Chişinău (terrible American pronunciation = “key-sha-now”). We were met at the airport by some fellow Americans who had been there the week prior, and the young men in JMI’s “Boys2Leaders” program, who were smiling, yelling to us, and holding up a massive American flag. A little bit of home was nice, but outside the view was pretty spectacular. The airport sits on top of a hill, and with no tall buildings surrounding it, you are looking at what seems to be endless countryside. Having lived in the Midwest for a few years, I was surprised at how beautiful the countryside can be when it isn’t totally flat.
We divided ourselves up between the two buses and made our way to the new pride and joy of this little country: MallDOVA. MallDOVA is a very large, highly American influenced shopping mall. We were there for two reasons: exchange our US dollars to Moldovan lei, and get some food in our stomachs. We made our way up to the top floor to where the food court was and I wasn’t sure what I would find. To my surprise (and disappointment), we had choices such as McDonald’s, Sbarro, and KFC, just like every shopping mall in America. Mandy and I opted for Sbarro, since we usually try to steer clear of McDonald’s. Despite our best efforts, we would be unable to do this the rest of the week, as the downtown restaurant was the easiest and fastest place in the city to grab lunch on the go. We left MallDOVA and headed to the home of our host family, which is the same property that JMI’s Grace House sits. And this is the point where the week really began.
I still wasn’t sure what to expect. All I knew is that we were going to run summer camp for the children of Straseni (terrible American pronunciation = “stre-shane”), grab a quick lunch and then head over to spend 2 hours with the children living at the Internat 2 orphanage. I knew that I would have to teach the “Life Skills” portion of the curriculum to the “Younger Boys” (boys between the ages of 6-11). That in itself was nerve-wracking, then throw on top of it the language barrier (most Moldovans speak Romanian, as well as Russian), and having never worked with an interpreter before, and you can imagine how easy it was to stress out.
The truth is, I could sit here and write the day to day accounts, but that’s not really what I want to do. I want to share what I learned throughout the week and what I took away from the trip. As weird (and maybe terrible) as this may sound, I didn’t feel like I connected much with my Younger Boys. They were out of control and there were times where I felt like we spent more time getting them to settle down than we did teaching them. Some of them listened, but most of them didn’t pay much attention. But I did my best to love on them anyway, because that was why I was there. All week I questioned God, “Why am I here if I feel like I can’t minister to these kids?” As the week concluded I felt like God answered that question by saying, “You did minister to the kids of Straseni and Internat 2, but I also brought you here to minister to some other kids, you just weren’t expecting it.” God is amazing. Let me explain.
I made a big connection with the guys who are in JMI’s Boys2Leaders program. These are boys who grew up in the orphanages where JMI serves, and now go back into those places with us as translators. Just like the girls in the Grace House, these boys are kicked out of the orphanage when they get to be a certain age. Some have families, others don’t, and even those who do may not want to go back to the families that abandoned them. They have grown up with each other and really are each others family. They will be the first to tell you that they are brothers. So with the help of sponsors these boys have moved into an apartment and are going to school and are not on the streets. While all of this is great, one fact still remains: these boys were orphans. Some were orphans because their parents died, but others were told from a very early age, “we don’t want you,” or “we can’t afford you.” And from talking to these boys, life in the orphanages isn’t easy. You feel alone and abandoned. You have no one to look out for you but yourself. You have to build up walls between you and the rest of world. You feel like you can’t really trust anyone. I can’t imagine going through that at the age of 8 or even younger.
Everyday I rode on the bus with these guys. A few of them played guitar, and they all love Christian music. There was one in particular that wanted to learn as much as he could. Much of the time spent driving from one place to the next became the perfect time to give guitar lessons. I’d sit there while he held his cell phone up to my ear playing Chris Tomlin, Hillsong United, or Tenth Avenue North songs and I’d learn them on the fly and teach them to him. I’d watch him as he would try over and over again until he got it right, and when he finally did and I told him, “Yeah! That’s perfect! Great job!.” His reaction broke my heart. When those words came out of my mouth, his face lit up. Maybe more than anything he was just looking for an older male figure to give him some type of confirmation that he was doing a good job. That someone was proud of the accomplishment that he made. These lessons continued all week on the bus rides around Moldova. They are some of my favorite memories.
There were other things that happened throughout the week. I was reminded how much the simplest gestures can mean to people. Things like simply offering to buy some of our translators whatever they wanted from McDonald’s. To us it’s just a few dollars, but for them it’s much, much more. It made me think of how much we take for granted in our comfortable little bubble called the United States of America. So by the end of the week, relationships were formed and friendships solidified. But no matter how much I could do for them, I wasn’t prepared for what they had to show me.
These boys have a faith in God that puts me to shame. I was humbled by them. To hear the things that they went through while growing up, it is amazing to me that they have such a strong faith. I felt like I had to pick my jaw up off the floor when every single one of them ended their stories with something like, “But I know that God put me in those situations for a reason, and I am thankful to Him that He did.” Would I be able to say that if I were them? I would like to think that I would. It blows my mind that a middle class American like me can sit there and look at the situations in Moldova and ask, “Where is God in all of this,” only to be put in my place by a 17 year old kid telling me that they see Him everywhere. To tell me they lived it and they experienced His love through it all. That’s the kind of faith that I want in my life. I want the kind of faith that makes these boys want to go back to the orphanages that they grew up in together just to share their stories of how God is working in their lives to the other orphans, some of which they have known since they were little. I want a faith that beckons me tell these children that God loves them and, no matter what anyone else tells them, He has a great purpose for their lives. The things that those guys taught me are valuable than me teaching them songs on the guitar and buying them fast food. I am forever grateful to them. I am humbled by the memories I have of my time with them, and I thank God for the work He is doing through them to impact the younger generations of Moldova. I could go on and on. It was an incredible trip. I was a part of an incredible team. God did incredible work through us and will continue to do incredible work in Moldova.
I will end with this. JMI runs a sponsorship program for the kids at the orphanages in Moldova. I was fortunate enough to spend the two hours each day at Internat 2 with the boy that Mandy and I sponsor. His name is Artur. Even though there was a language barrier, it didn’t matter, just sitting together meant the world to all three of us. We send emails to Artur through JMI and they translate them and get them to him, and when he writes us, they translate it from Romanian to English and email us. I know that we are making a difference in his life. We shared a moment where, with the help of a translator, we asked Artur how we could be praying for him. His only response was, “That the three of us will always be together. Forever.” I’m not ashamed to say that I almost sobbed like a baby when he said that, and again on our last day when we prayed as a huge group and he did not want to let go of our hands. It was amazing and I’m thankful for what JMI is doing and for how easy they make it to have access to the child you sponsor.
You can sponsor a kid for $35 a month, and all of that money goes right to the needs of that child. Please pray about it. You can even be bold and go in with some friends and sponsor a Grace House girl. It’s more expensive, but you’ll be guaranteeing that 1 more girl won’t end up a victim of human trafficking (of which Moldova is ground zero for in Eastern Europe) after she is kicked out of the orphanage at the age 16. Pray about it. That’s all I ask. If you feel led to, go to the JMI sponsorship page and decided how you want to give. Also, pray about going on a trip with JMI, even if you don’t think Moldova is a place you want to go, look at the opportunities there are to serve in South Africa, Ecuador, Brazil, Haiti, New Orleans, and now possibly India next year. I promise you that you will not be disappointed.
In the end, I didn’t lose my passport, ate way too much McDonald’s, and found inspiration in the most unlikely of places.
It was a great trip.
