For You Mom

I am writing this as a tribute to my mother. I received a special blessing this week that I never saw coming. I discovered a new kind of respect for my mom. I think my mom has really not quite known her purpose in life since my brother and I left home 14 years ago. This year my parents sold the dairy cows and mom was faced with finding and alternate means of income but also finding her place in the world. My mom came to Romania to see us in October and while she was here she had a chance to work with the elderly in several of the programs and found a real love for them. A week and a half after she went home she saw an ad in the paper regarding a Certified Nurses Aid in a local nursing home. For the last several months she has been doing the grueling training but has been so blessed by the interactions with the elderly she works with. The work is physically demanding but she goes everyday- even though the pain stays with her the rest of the day. The other night I talked to her on the phone and she told me how she does it. Every morning she gets up and prays. She tells God that only he can get her through the day- on her own she could never do it. Then she opens her journal and prays for each of the elderly from the nursing home. She also told me that she remember when I was little she would find cups under my bed with mold growing on them (thanks for remembering that). She realized that we are like that-we have mold growing on us, dirt in our hearts, uncleanness in our spirit and that each day we need to ask God to cleanse us. Only then can the Holy Spirit fill us anew and work through us. I realized how blessed I was to have a mother who loves God, who raised me to serve and think of others first, and to realize that each and everything is life we do- we are doing for God- no matter how hard or how difficult. Mom said she doesn't do it for the money (minimum wage is pathetic). She does it for God. Thanks Mom.- Love Karen

Praise- for a cold?

I wanted to share this praise with everyone back at home because for us it is a big one. Many of you know that one of our major fears about moving to Romania was Liam's respiratory problems. In fact it was the last thing really holding us back from the mission field until I heard something a much wiser missionary women from Cambodia (Yuko Williams) had said. She said "If you don't do missions work because of your children, then you limit your children to only experience a little bit of God". That finally sealed our decision to move to Romania with the boys. That didn't mean we were going unprepared though. We took enough medication and two nebulizer machines just to be proactive. For those of you who don't know- when Liam was one he ended up in the hospital with a severe respiratory problem. Over the next two years, every cold he got turned into asthma like symptoms and he need steroids and albuterol. Last year our pediatrician took an agressive approach and he was on inhaled steroids from the first cold of winter until the end of April. He did much better and only occasionally needed the albuterol. We were going to start him on the steroids this year in September but decided not to. He got his first major cold last week and we kept him home from school for several days. On Monday he was back to normal- no medications, no breathing treatments, no respiratory problems at all. What an answer to prayer. This is the first cold since he was one that has been just a "normal" cold. A little hot water with honey and lemon every day and he made it through. I just wanted to share this with you as so many of you have been praying about this and we thank you. - Karen & Maurice

Romanian Experience

This past Thursday I had a "Romanian Experience". This is an exspression that we have come up with here to explain when something happens to us that is truly unique to Romania. We do not pass judgement, it is not right or wrong, just different. So Thursday is the only day that we can pick up international packages from the post office. Melanie missed her opportunity to pick hers up last week and knew that she had more this week. Knowing that she would have an arm load of boxes, I offered to drive her(she does not drive in Romania). I parked behind the post office where I always do. We got back into the car and noticed that was a ticket under my windshield wiper, it was a parking ticket. There are several different types of police here and I do not completely understand the different jurisdictions and responsibilities, but I got this ticket from the community police. They are slightly different from the normal police. I got the ticket at 11:15 AM and I was ordered to appear at the Police station at 1:00 PM the same day. I was a bit confused for many reasons. I never saw any no parking signs. Signage is not as specific here as it is in the States. In many ways the most frustrating and exhausting part of a foreign culture is not understanding the "unwritten rules". So I talked to Roberta, the pastor here, and she explained to me where to go for my appearance. She said that she would be happy to go and translate for me. Keep in mind that my Romanian is greatly improving, I do not speak it perfectly, but I understand alot. I am pretty comfortable in most situations that I can communicate well enough to get by. When it comes to the police, legal, or governmental issues I always want a translator in these situations. So I stopped by her house on the way down to the police station to meet Roberta, but she was not back from a pastoral visit. I did not want to be late and I figured that the police would just want me to pay a fine. How hard could it be? I thought I can handle this.
You also must understand a little about about our car. In Romania you can tell where a car is from by simply looking at the license plate. Our car is registered to the Church of the Nazarene in Bucharest, so our plate says we are from Bucharest. Now Bucharest drivers have a famous reputation for being bad drivers. Also police are far more likely to ticket a Bucharest car up in this region of Romania. So I went down town and walked into the police station all by myself. The ticket says nothing about how much the fine will be, so I have no idea what to expect. I am taken into a large room with about eight male and two female officers who were sitting around smoking and drinking coffee. This was incrediblely intimidating for me as a foreigner. This is were I usually announce in Romanian that I only speak a little Romanian, but this time I decide that I am just going to go for it. So one policeman says you are the one from Bucharest parked behind the post office. I answered him that my car was from Bucharest but we lived here in Sighisoara. Another asked how long I have lived here, and I answered six months. He complimented me and said that I had learned Romanian very well. They then asked for my passport but I now have my VISA that allows us to stay one year. We have humanitarian VISAs for the work that we do here, and says that we are American. This has gotten Karen out of a ticket already once, just by itself alone. So the policeman that had my ticket and information did some paerwork while I made more small talk with the other officers. Eventually he made me sign something, told me something about where not to park again, and then said thank you and goodbye. He did not fine me at all! I do not know his reasons for letting me off, if it was because I was not actually from Bucharest, if it was the humanitarian VISA, or if it easier for him to let me off. It may have been a combination of factors, but I strongly feel that it was my willingness and ability to speak their language. I walked out obviously happy to not have to pay a fine, but also proud of my assimilation into the society here. It happens so slowly, that it is hard to even notice sometimes. Then an incident like this happens and I realize how far I have come in a short period of time. Maurice