November 2003

 

 

 

 “My peace I give you, my peace I leave with you.”
~Jesus

Dear friends,

This is my favorite season of the year – the cooling air and smell of woodstoves, pulling sweaters out of the closet and eating lots of fresh apples. Autumn is a time of thanksgiving for me, looking back over the year as it comes to a close and seeing God's hand at work. I have always enjoyed this season because of the glorious display of color that comes from the red, yellow, and orange maple trees that I grew up with in New England. There's not quite the same brilliance of color here in Galati, Romania, but I still enjoy marching through crunchy leaves and watching the wind swirl them around in a dance above my head.

Many of you have commented to me recently that you enjoy receiving my letters each month. I'm glad that letter writing has been an avenue through which to share my heart, voice my thoughts and ask you to keep praying and opening your heart to God and to the poor. Thank you for your love and encouragement.

This autumn I have finally found a rhythm of activities and involvement with work, church and home that is a good balance for me. Keeping a healthy balance is a constant challenge.

Our program with street kids and school kids at the Drop-In Center has been modified a bit and seems to be going well. After our 9AM meeting for prayer and worship, we open the doors to 10-15 street kids at 10AM and they stay for three hours for art, games, a bath, Bible lesson and hot meal. The school kids arrive between 11:30AM and 2:30PM (depending on when they get out of school) and go straight to their homework, eating together at 1PM after the street kids have left. In some ways, I'm sad that we've had to shorten the program for street kids. But overall it seems to be meeting their needs better than if we tried to combine the two groups of children.

Besides helping with this program, my days include staff meetings, leading worship, home visiting, parent meetings, soccer games with the street boys, a meeting for teen girls only, jumping through hoops to get visas for all nine foreign staff, a small group Bible study from church, attending church at least once a week (there are actually FIVE services a week — three on Sunday, and one Wed. and Fri. night) leading songs for children's church on Sunday, washing my clothes, cooking from scratch (no microwave here folks!), keeping up with my reading list for a book study with the other American staff, and of course, saving time to go see a movie and just hang out with friends once in a while.

Right now it's a little overwhelming to realize that I am supposed to be the Servant Team coordinator as well! So far, I haven't had a single team. Potentially, a team may come in the spring (Feb. 1) but I'm not promising anything yet because last time I wrote about a team coming, no one ever made it. In any case, keep me in prayer as I seek to balance all these responsibilities and grow into the person that God wants
me to be.

In my last letter I wrote to you about the time I've been spending getting to know some teen girls. The girl who inspired me to write those reflections actually left recently for Spain and a life of prostitution. I cannot even describe the heartbreak that I feel over losing her. She is only sixteen. I visited her family last week and discovered pictures of the two of us proudly propped up on their bookcase shelves. It was awkward for me to sit in this one room home and chat with her mom, seeing my own face in the photos that decorated their home.

Please continue with me in prayer for Nela and those like her who are being drawn into a violent world that has nothing but heartbreak for them. Pray for myself and co-staff as we prayerfully consider how we can best help these girls.

Following is a reflection written in my journal as well as some additional thoughts on peace and how we can continue to pray.

I read in Jean Vanier's book tonight, Community and Growth, a phrase that stuck out to me – 'the wound of peace'. Wow. Who ever thought of a wound as something peaceful? But I suppose I have experienced this wound of peace before, even now I sense it.

These days of late have been very painful for me, I sense a wound welling up inside. And yet that wound is accompanied by so much peace. I know this is what I was made for, where I belong, what I was called to. And yet it is so painful! Could it be that Jesus called me to a wound? And why?

The wound of peace. Ironic. A paradox. I think of R.I.P written on gravestones: 'rest in peace'. Someone finally and completely freed from pain and released from a world of woundedness.

And what about 'shalom', the ultimate peace that we all long for? The end of wars, hatred and killing where perfect justice is carried out. No more oppressing the poor and scorning their children. Shalom, a kingdom of love and fruitfulness, where no one goes hungry or sleeps on the cold street at night.

I have recently done some reading about places like Afghanistan and Iraq where unrest and instability continue to face the people of these countries. Please don't forget to pray for our brothers and sisters, our own flesh and blood, who suffer from war, violence and terrible loss. Iraq and Afghanistan may not be top news stories anymore, but the people of these countries are far from finding the peace and security that we all seek for ourselves and for our children.

Pray with me for those who suffer from war: the children of Sierre Leone, victims of a terrible and lengthy civil war in the poorest country in the world; the families in Israel, pressing on through decades of hate; victims of the ethnic war in Bosnia, scarred by acts of violence; and the people of Afghanistan and Iraq, seeking peace and trying to live a decent life after having their whole world turned upside down. May we embrace the wound of loving and caring for the broken so that they may find peace. May we learn together to embrace “the wound of peace,” crying out to the Father in our anguish and trusting Him to establish His kingdom of peace on earth
as it is in heaven.

With love,
Rachel