We entered quietly her room. The same room we used to live in until I was four. The same room where I left her when I last visited her a couple of years ago. I was anxious to see her, but also a little nervous as I did not know what to expect. Was she the same? Had she changed? I was told she was not feeling very well, but she has been sick all her life, so sickness was no news.

We entered the room. She hardly lifted her head to look at us, and when she did her puzzled look told me more than I wanted to know. We tried to communicate, but she could not really hear us. And when she spoke, she was stumbling over her words. She tried to remember who we were, but her memory simply did not help her. It was more than I could bear. I wished I could say something, but I was just choking up. I tried desperately to hold back my tears and I was somehow successful.

You see, it does not matter that she is 90 and she lived her life, as some people would say. It does not matter that she lived more than an average person does. It does not matter that she has been sick all her life, that she has been sitting in bed ever since I remember her. It does not matter that in the last 10 years, because of my traveling and hectic schedule, I saw her only once every 2-3 years. She has always been there. She could hear, talk and think. She knew who I was and she always had a smile for me. She is my grandma. And right now she is not the grandma I always knew. Life will surely never be the same.

Oh, heaven could not come soon enough!

Bitter-Sweet Memories

I sit in front of my computer, tears streaming down my face, wondering: What am I doing here? Why am I living in this huge city instead of living in a small jungle village? Why am I living on the 9th floor instead of living in a hut? Why do I have to spend 10-12 hours a day in front of the computer instead of teaching, working in the garden, visiting people? Why am I not there, in the frontlines of the battle? Why? It is not the first time I am asking myself all these questions. I have done it countless times. In fact, I have done it every time I read or listened to a mission report.

I am watching a video with Sarah and James Appel, medical missionaries in Chad. I watch them speak about God's calling for their lives. The conviction and assurance from their words and voices remind me about my own conviction that He has called me to be a missionary as long as I live. But now, here I am, in the middle of the city far different from the place where I envision myself living and doing mission work.

I watch them speak about pain and death and my heart feels the heaviness of each word. I hear them speak about challenges and I hurt with them again. I remember all the loneliness I faced, all the tears I shed. I can feel again the heaviness of the responsibilities on my shoulders. I remember having nobody to turn to for help and being crushed by the heavy load of my responsibilities. I remember also feeling that I cannot carry on any longer.

I watch them speaking about sacrifices and service and I remember finding out just a couple of months ago about their loss. They six months old baby boy died to malaria. I hurt with them, I cried and wondered why. I also remember Gary and Wendy and the loss of their 5 years old son to malaria. How shocked I was and how my heart ached for them. I think about my sacrifices. They might have felt big once but now they seem small compared to theirs.

I hear them speaking about the primitive conditions they live in: in the middle of nowhere with no electricity, no internet, no phone. I could almost breath in the humid air. I can almost feel the mud under my feet during the rainy season. And I can hear the rain falling hard on the shingles of the girls' dorm. I can hear the baboons barking early in the morning. I can see the fog lifting up in the morning and the humming birds looking for their food. I remember listening to the radio and hoping that the mission airplane will come and bring news from home. I also remember the frustration every time it was suppose to come but it didn't. I feel the expectancy built with each passing day. I can also feel the disappointments every time we had no news.

I watch them speaking and working as a team and I remember also watching Gary and Wendy Roberts doing the same. That's when I told the Lord: "This is what I want!!! This is exactly what I want!!! I will not marry someone who is not mission minded." Seven years have passed since I made this decision and I have not changed my mind.

I have no doubt that I belong there! There is no doubt that missionary blood runs through my veins. One and a half years passed since I came back and one would expect that I will be missing those places less and less and that the pain will be smaller. But it is not. My eyes still get moist every time I read a mission report. My heart still aches every time I hear a missionary speaking. 

But even though I am wondering and hurting again, I know that I have the answer. There is peace deep down in my heart because I know He brought me here. And I know without a shadow of a doubt that I am where He wants me to be. I remember Melody and the long prayer calls we had that revolutionized my prayer life. I remember finding a deeper and more meaningful relationship with my Lord. Than I remember GYC Romania, AMiCUS International Congress, ASI Spain, GYC France, EUD Annual Council, AMiCUS Romania, GYC Portugal and some other events where people found healing and peace, where they had a special encounter with God because of united prayer and because I allowed God to use me. And all this have happened since I came back home. 

I know that there is no service without sacrifice. Sometimes the sacrifices are bigger, sometimes smaller. I know that my sacrifice is worth it. It is worth all the pain, heartache, tears, loneliness and all the times I miss being in the jungle as long as I know that I am where He wants me to be. And for now He has called me to be here. 

Thankful for Tears

I went to church tonight. For those of you who do not know, the Romanian Hope Channel is broadcasting an evangelistic series. At one point in the presentation, while talking about the meaning of life, Pastor Lucian Cristescu talked about a lady who dedicated her life to helping the poor people of Haiti. Then, he talked about a dentist, a Romanian guy, who has taken a lot of mission trips to Africa and South America to help the sick people in isolated places of the world. I tried to hold back my tears but I just couldn't. Every time I hear a mission story or see a presentation about mission work, tears start streaming down my face. I just can't help it. Why am I crying? Because they remind me about a life full of meaning. Because my heart is there. I am not cut out for an office life. I don't know why I have to sit in front of a computer 7+ hours a day. But I am not asking God why because I know that He knows why. I trust Him and I know that this is His plan for me now. And His plan is for my best. Believe me, I am not a person who cries easily. But there are a few things that instantly bring tears to my eyes. I have just talked about one.

This is for the second time my eyes are flooded with tears this week. I talked to a friend this week. We finally found some time to talk since both of has had a lot of work to do. She is a little bit older than me and got married a few months ago. We haven't seen each other in a long time and she promised to share with me her love story whenever we have the time to sit down and talk. For those who do not know, I love to hear people talking about they way God leads them. And I love to hear love stories written by God's hand. As she was sharing with me the details of the story and telling me all the things that God has done for them, I could feel so much excitement in her voice. She was so excited about the way God has led her. At one point in time, I chocked. My eyes were flooded with tears. I was trying to hold them back but I just couldn't. How could my heart be unmoved when I see how good the Lord is? Seeing that God is so faithful and that He always rewards those who patiently wait on Him is simply moving me to tears.

So, I thank God for tears. I thank Him for the wonderful years that I have spend in the mission field. And I thank Him for people who are faithfully waiting on Him. They are such an inspiration to me. I am not afraid to cry because it is a sign that the Holy Spirit is moving upon my heart, that He is there to remind me that life with God is wonderful.

Anniversary

Today it's been three years since I first left for Guyana. First time alone traveling across continents, first time traveling in an airplane, first time being so far away for such a long period of time of my family and friends. I didn't know what the trip will be like and where exactly is the place where I will serve, I didn't know what exactly I will be doing, I didn't speak English fluently but I knew I want to serve. The beginning of the the most challenging and most beautiful time in my life. The beginning of a new life that was going to change me forever.

I went to Guyana not knowing exactly what means to be a missionary or for how long I will be there. It took me just 2-3 weeks to decide that this is what I want to do for my whole life. I have never thought that I will fall in love with the jungle, that I will love to work in the farm, that I will enjoy walking bare feet in the mud, that I will love to do laundry at the river, that I will befriend the bat and rats and cockroaches, that I will fall in love with teaching, that I will find the sens on my existence there. I have never thought I will face so much loneliness and I will also be so happy, that I will miss my family so much when being there but I will miss even more the jungle and its challenges when being at home, that I will love the quietness and peacefulness of the jungle and also the craziness of Georgetown.

I remember so well flying with Gary Roberts above the dense jungle and thinking that I am dreaming. I have never dreamed to meet all this people I have seen on DVDs but here I was, staying quiet and sharing tears of joy for the wonderful way God worked in my life. I have never thought I will one day become a real missionary in the real jungle working with all the heroes I have grown to admire and respect. And here I was, being part of what I have never dreamed of.

Three years of intense training for me, three years of serving, three years when I grew to love sooo much my fellow Amerindians. And I know that these three years are just the beginning.

Though not too many people understand my love for Guyana and for Amerindians, I know God set a burden on my heart and that He wants me there. So, Guyana, I am coming soon!!!!