.when i don't speak romanian.

Living in a small gypsy village settled amidst the rolling hills of Romania, I've had a job picking apples, charaded my way through conversation, and spent hours picking grapes off the vines that fill the village. Walking to my ministry location for the day, horse buggies clack down the street next to me as scarved gypsy women nod and blow kisses from their frequented benches. It's one of those moments where you shake your head, close your eyes, and are almost surprised to open them again and find that this small village is your present reality.

Welcome to Ville Tecii, Romania.

My team of 5 readjusts to our ninth month overseas, as we familiarize ourselves with gypsy lingo, the long drop and mixing cement. It's no longer a surprise that plumbing and warm showers are a luxury 2 months from our grasp, as we've grown accustomed to the "norm" everywhere else in the world.

Wading through the scent of honeysuckle and horse manure, I jump across an open sewage line, hold my breath, and grab a hold of the rusty fence outside the house I've frequented all week. Before my feet hit the dirt on the front walkway however, a 4 year old little boy graces the front steps. He screams my name and bolts towards me as fast as his little legs will carry him, leaping fearlessly into my arms.

I've grown accustomed to this warm greeting with my new Romanian friend. His name is Feli and he's a 4-year-old gypsy who loves soccer, riding his bike, and playing with his 2 cousins. His 16-year-old brother and his brother's girlfriend seem to care for him while his mother works in the orchard all day. Food is scarce and the house is falling apart. I practically have to play hopscotch across their living room floor when I visit or I'll slide right through the gaping holes in the floorboards.

Feli and I spend hours together working on his bike, flipping through picture books, and playing soccer with all of his friends. We pick apples when its time for a snack and sit on the lumber in the soccer field when it's time for a break. Our time together is simple. We don't have detailed discussions about life, avoid each other because we can't communicate, or watch television to pass the time. We just play together. That's enough.

Traveling the world can be frustrating sometimes as you surround yourself with people of different nations, languages, and backgrounds. You want to know the people you're with, you want to know their story and details about their lives. When that communication barrier exists, its easy to just opt for a day with the Americans. It's easier, but choosing the easy road this year would have robbed me of so many precious relationships. I've loved so many people all around the world because I've trusted in the Lord to offer different venues of communication. He certainly has provided too. In Asia, it was hand signals. In Africa, I had smiles, and in Eastern Europe, laughter was all the conversation we needed.

My communication with Feli might have been limited, but pushing through the barrier was well worth the relationship. No words were necessary, but laughter, hugs, and the Lord allowed an American woman to let a Romanian gypsy child know how special he was.