love and air.

i believe in love. 

love that's real, love that's strong,

love that loves on and on.

yes, i believe in love. 

(i believe in love, dixie chicks.)

if you were to gently press two fingers to the wrist of love, i believe you'd feel a gentle, steady pulse. a consistent beating matched with harmonious inhalations and exhalations, all of which together universally signify one very important attribute: life. 

i was in romania when i learned for the first time in my adult life what it truly means to love. to see the face of love and know what love really means. since that time, it's only become magnified and expanded upon. anything i had ever known about love up to that point converged into one, distinct moment: when i saw, for the first time, the face of love. 

most mornings at the orphanage, i purposefully went upstairs first, even though i knew my other kids were already outside playing on the swings. there were three who could walk, and a few others who were invigorated by means of a wheelchair carrying their restricted bodies.

the rest? they remained quietly upstairs, consigned to cribs or beds due to their physical state. three, especially--let's call them felicity, danny, and amelia. three precious beings with cerebral palsy stretching from their brains through their bent limbs and down to their toes. they were always in bed. felicity and danny were side-by-side in two beds smashed together, a special, silent kinship between them, amelia in a crib near the foot of their bed. 

on all those days i spent with them, i sought to discover this one thing: what keeps their heart beating. what does the beat of their love sound like? so i rested my fingers on their souls and took a listen, allowing it to seep into my soul.

one sweltering morning, i made my way up to them to massage their under-used muscles, sing to them, and talk to them. sometimes it was in romanian, sometimes it was in english. i don't think they minded. and as i spent a bit of time concentrating on amelia, i looked deep into her eyes and was surprised with the love i felt inside myself. that was the moment that i realized my love for them, not as a collective unit, but as individuals. i loved the way amelia always perked up with a certain song i'd sometimes sing. i loved the connection between felicity and danny. i loved danny's ever-present smile and cheerful disposition. i loved felicity's gentle sweetness. to say nothing of all the other kids and all the other moments--all those moments that have since become memories to show me my love for them.

and not a single one of those three ever uttered a single word. without a single word exchanged, a door of love opened. inside that door? i came to know their individual identities, trapped within bodies left wanting for a bit of anything. nevertheless, they were content with the breaths they had. invigorated even more by such willingness to give and partake of the breath of fresh love.

i've never had my heart so fully filled as it was then. in reaching into their souls.
i've never seen so directly the influence of love on a human soul as i did then.
my heart swelled wide with love that i gave so freely, and received more than i ever could have anticipated.

there's something about little humans--
they way they love so easily, openly, and willingly.
the sound of the beats and breaths of their love is almost deafening, 

invigorating everything it touches.

love breathes like a filter,
dissolving anything that once was toxic.
with love we breathe.

(this little rough draft of words written late june 2016.)

la langue. limbă. язык.

bună dimineața.

te iubesc. fiecare zi.

"je fais souvent ce rêve,

étrange et pénétrant."

однажды. было время. 

этим языкам выучила.

j'oubliais. всё это я знала. 

j'oublie. c'est du passant. 

забываю

и забыла.

il était un fois. 

ce n'est le fin.

ce mai faci?

hai să mergem. 

mergem pe jos. 

today in my russian phonetics class i counted to ten in all the languages i know.

сегодня на занятие по русской фонетике я сосчитала до десяти на все те языки, которые знаю. 

aujourd'hui pendant ma classe de la phonétique russe j'ai comptée à dix dans toutes les langues que je sais. 

astăzi _______ eu am numărat în ______ pe care știu. 

* * * *

k n e w.

there never was a happier time.

i consider the summer i turned twenty to be the happiest time of my life so far.

and i dare say that summer will always remain near the top of that list.

there never was a happier time.

i've been thinking a lot lately about that summer.

when this place was my place, these people were my people.

that time when my entire existence consisted of a life of sweat, labor, and love.

my summer in romania. 

i've never been so satisfied, so fulfilled. a life of the purest simplicity and the purest of souls surrounding me. and there never was a happier time. never before have i been somewhere that i never wanted to leave, somewhere that--by the end especially--had become not only a home, but a lifestyle that i could have easily and happily lived forever.

because it's there i fell in love with that musty scent of old paint and incense and books so unique to the inside of old churches. the thrill of a language not native to you becoming your own. the odd, but wonderful thrill of sweat and hills to climb. the delight in walking everywhere and being in the city. (this is where the change began in me--when i began to be a citylovinggirl.) and much, much more.



most of all. that eastern european heart and soul, different even in some ways from those purely russian, and especially from western europe. because there's something different about these people in those places that no one else knows. everyone's heard of moscow, or at least the country of russia. everyone's heard of paris, london, and berlin. but what about românia, let alone iași? what about ukraine, let alone donetsk or kharkov?

what is it, you ask? what's different about them? that's just it. it can't be pinpointed to any one thing. but there's something in them that i came to understand. something in their history that lingers in every part of who they are, because it is a history that isn't so distant. a history of events barely older than me. a history that wasn't history, but a story lived. and in these people that most the world doesn't know or even care to know, there is the most profound beauty i've ever known.

i wish everyone could walk those streets and look into their eyes. see past their faces and into their hearts. not only those on the streets, but also become acquainted with those who were mine in section 2 and at the hospital. i wish you could see each of their faces, see them as i do. watch them as i say, hai la mine. я жду. i wait until the day i can call to them again. longing. for hills and endless stairs to climb, skin that's never been tanner, stuffy, sweaty rooms, eyes that have never been brighter, and perspective that's never been clearer. because all these things to me came as i threw myself into that which was my call--to the work in each day, which could be better described as full commitment to the souls that came my way each day. a predictable set in section 2, as well as the unpredictable passing ships in the hospital. those children i gave names to call them by, because they hadn't been given one. and so i chose one that seemed fitting, and this is who i know them as, even if they didn't stay long. there was an esmerelda and a felicity, an eliza and a robby. i wish that you could see them too. the babies, and those who are mine. i wish you could glimpse into even just a day with them--a glimpse into a day from the way things were that summer.

today marks three years since i opened my mission call to ukraine. three. ( i have a thing for the number three, you see. ) it probably seems odd that on a day such as this, i'm thinking and talking more about romania than ukraine--much, much more. there's a reason, though. these nations. these cities. these people. they are irreversibly connected in my mind, permanently connected in my life.



the thing about my call to ukraine, is this: my very first thought while reading that letter--after moving the envelope that was blocking that line down and seeing the capital U and then reading ukraine--my first thought? i'm going back to eastern europe! regardless of what else ever happens in my life, march seventh will forever be a day that i can look to in order to remember the tender mercies of god. a day that is direct evidence of the way god directs and guides a life--the way we are led and carried, directed exactly to where we need to be.

march seventh is the day that shows me god knows me. it shows me that this thing, this thing that started out as a feeling, and then grew into a hope. which then turned into a quiet thought, which then turned into a quiet word. (thanks, regina.) this hope of returning to eastern europe--perhaps romania, perhaps not. this love of a place because of the understanding i came to have of the depth of these souls. march seventh is the day that answered that prayer and yearning. march seventh is the day that shows me not only is god aware of us, but answers the desires of our hearts--those known and unknown. march seventh is the day that serves to say: 'oh hey, em. i've got your back, remember? there's a plan. just you wait and see. and this is the day i show you. this is the day you glimpse into the glory.'
[have we talked about this? when speaking to me, tatăl ceresc (heavenlyfather/romanian) most frequently addresses me as em. in a phrasing and intonation that is particularly tender and distinctive. weird? sorrynotsorry.]

because you don't just end up in romania or ukraine. they're not everyday places. and in those years especially, everything felt particularly guided. did you know that i made my way and ended up in romania because of not getting a job that i was about to get? a very good job that all indicators pointed to me being given. it was because of not getting that job that my entire schedule and plan was able to be adjusted. and suddenly i was going summer. and suddenly i had it all planned out to be going to romania a year later. which all started from not getting a job.

i found romania while looking at france. but france was geared more towards students in their first and second year of french courses, much less being offered for the level i was at. and i stumbled into romania and that's when my life truly changed. guided. because if it wasn't for not getting that job, i wouldn't have gone to romania. if i hadn't gone to romania, i'm almost certain i possibly wouldn't have gone on a mission. and had i not chosen to serve a mission, i wouldn't have ever gone to ukraine. and without these pieces, i'd be missing so much of who i am. because i was always meant to go to romania and ukraine. it was always a part of me, even when i didn't consciously realize it. it was still there. still waiting to be found. not that it wasn't there before, but that i couldn't quite see.



i don't mean to undermine ukraine and my experience there in any way. if anything, i hope this magnifies it. because they shared many similarities. at the core of which is what i learned of real, genuine love and faith. that said, there were differences too. in fact, that's something that was hard for me to grasp while in ukraine--the differences from the beauty of what romania had been. not necessarily in the people, but in the experience. because love and fulfillment came so easy in romania. the people were already there awaiting me. those babes of mine. but in ukraine, it was fewer and farther between. it took more faith and more trials of that love. and that. that's why i'll always love românia. because god is so good to me.



i consider myself by the end of my time in romania to be among the prettiest i've ever felt. because of that which was awakened in my soul. because of the color to my skin that came from europe and came from labor. because of the grime in my hair and the perfect ringlets that formed at the nape of my neck, particularly on extra sweaty days. because of the way my eyes were opened, and there i learned to truly see that which is most essential--which is to say, that which is invisible to the eyes. because there never was a happier time.



as mumford says so well, now my heart stumbles on things i don't know. to say life at this stage is marked by radical uncertainty is the greatest of all understatements. if you're wondering what the twilight of uncertainty looks like, this is it. i really don't know what the future will bring. i really don't know what's in store for my life or how it will come to be. but because of march seventh, i know it will be. i know it will be something grand and glorious, something specific to who i am and who i'm becoming.

because of march seventh, i can take another step.

one step enough for me.

it's time to begin, isn't it?

your glass is empty, i'll pour some more.

(written 22 january 2015. still mostly applicable.)

i learned how to say 'speak of the devil' in russian.

it was in a play i read for class today.

легка на помине.

i'm ultra insecuresensitive about my russian lately.

i'm not sure why.
i'm not sure what triggered it.
i just am.
yesterday i was chittering with shariska about it,
and she made the point.
the point that the people who are in these classes,
aren't just the average russian speaking missionary.
these are the people who are pursuing it.
the ones who are more gung-ho.
the ones who to start with were already real good.
we talked about the havinganativecompanion difference.
i don't share this often,
but before i went on a mission--
even before knowing that i was going--
i always dreamwanted a native companion.
because i know that's one of those things.
one of those things that can really make a difference.
i was young and naïve, not realizing the intricacies that a mission contains.
the way everything about my mission played out was for a reason.
i know that.
i'm grateful every day to god for the beauty of my ukraine.
but sometimes.
sometimes it's hard for me.
because my russian was good. really really good.
from the start.
and i do have a gift.
but because of that,
i know what i am capable of or what it could have become,
had the opportunity existed.

it never did.

or maybe i didn't work hard enough at it.
no.
i won't even say that.
because i know.
the focus i placed on my mission was right.
i was right to let there be humanity.
i was right to give the reins to my daughters when training those last seven months.
i was right to focus on their progress and development rather than mine.
but.
because of that.
my linguistic progress stalled.
had i done a moscow internship,
i know it would have gotten there by that means too.
i considered going last year.
i never told hardly anyone, but i did.
i legitimately really actually did.
for a minute i factored it, tried to imagine if it could be.
and it was something i considered more seriously than anyone would ever know.
but money.
but i already went to romania.
but--this above all--it just wasn't right.
i needed to be here last summer and have the summer i had.
and i know that.
i know.
до мозга костей--я знаю.

but sometimes.
sometimes it's hard for me.

this language--these languages i've studied.
what has it been for?
french gave me much both culturally and linguistically.
and it taught me to learn a language.
romanian gave me communication--a vision of what it is to become really good in a language not my own.
because at the end, i was really quite quite good.
and i would be asked if i was romanian.
but then i was called away from that.
i went back to french, and it never could groove with me the way it once did.
and then ukraine.
and i was scared from the start. but deep down knew i could.
i set lofty language goals.
and.
i know my russian is good.
i know i picked up on it faster than most at the start.
but.
somewhere, sometime.
it slowed, and sometimes even halted.
and never came to fruition in the way i thought it would, or the way i know i'm capable of.
but why?
doesn't god want me to have that strong ability?
maybe i'd have been too proud.
maybe it's not about attaining in the way i think it is.

in analyzing my patriarchal blessing recently, i had a realization about mine.
it is filled with people.
many people.
influence.
but not with roots, at least not in a long term sense with people.
rather, the roots are spread and stretching widely.
my муж will be a root. our family will make its own.
but i think. i think just like now, we won't have a set place.
maybe literally, but for now i mean figuratively.
we'll stretch our wings and circles.
ebbing and flowing in and out of circles of people, not necessarily tied to any particular one.
and maybe that's what my pursuit of doublemajor is for.
for a stronger foundation in order to communicate when i need to.
for a stronger foundation to be returned to later, so that it can be returned to later.
for communication.
like that russian call i took at work last semester.
that i could functionally communicate with the father of a student po telefonu.
i know the language in order to connect with the people.

i know.

but i am so good with phonetics and grammar.
i don't always love it, but i am good at it.
i was once good at all those little language things.

i know.

just. sometimes.
уязвляет моё самолюбие.
my pride is stung.

a free act of love.

"Faith in God is an opening up, a letting go, a deep trust,

a free act of love-but sometimes it was so hard to love."
yann martel, life of pi
  

i like to claim eastern europe as my own.

because there's something about her, that i just know.

about the way her heart seems to tick. her people living and breathing,

with so much goodness in their hearts, it almost seems impossible to believe.

there's something about her that is just so easily understood to me.

i'm not done. i don't know exactly what that means.

i just know: my work is not done there.

it neither began in romania nor ended in ukraine.

there is a reason for everything,

but also a time and season for everything.

he knows all the times.

i love eastern europeans with a fiery kind of love--

sometimes it burns, sometimes it flickers, but it still never goes out,

despite its opposing anger or joy, hurt or comfort.

and that burning and fire itself is a refining one.

a sanctification that makes any burns worth it.

a fire that gives scars and heals them simultaneously.

there's something special about different cultures.

the different humor, even the character found within the language itself.

« это наш. »

i don't talk about romania much anymore.

maybe because i got to know ukraine in a way so much more her own than i did romania.

and yet, romania is my love too.

they are alike, yet different.

i forget sometimes how much she means to me.

and then it comes back with waves and waves of memories.

my babies there. my experiences there.

the simplicity of sunshine and sweat.

the work of salvation in a different way.

both romania and ukraine taught me everything i know about faith.

everything i ever need to know about faith, can be pulled in some way from one or the other.

because that's what eastern europe teaches me above all: faith.

the kind of faith described by pi in life of pi.

that's what romania and ukraine are to me, if put into a phrase:

'an opening up, a letting go, a deep trust, a free act of love.'

including, almost most importantly, the end: 'but sometimes it [is] so hard to love.'

if you look to the right, there's a link to my blog from while i was in romania.

i went to romania and learned of love.

i learned there what love really means, though love never came hard in romania.

it came easily and processed from general love to personalized love. 

but then i went to ukraine.

i was all filled up with love and light,

ready to ignite every heart and soul with that love.

but as experience progressed,

that light of love flickered.

that fire either burnt towards ashes, or raged in violent fury.

violent and harmful flames, sparked by love.

and then.

sometimes it was so hard to love. a very real struggle to love.

however, by this means i learned of love again.

i learned what love means in a different way.

learned that there are many kinds of love.

learned that charity is meant to be so much more all-encompassing than we readily acknowledge.

faith is love. love builds faith.

by this means comes about that opening up, that letting go, that deep trust.

all of such lessons, which are best learned through interactions with people.

relationships with people of all kinds, both fleeting and lasting.

because that is how i learned when to open up, when to let go, and how to trust.

and that. that is what eastern europe taught me.

of people. of hearts. of souls.

to learn of people, is to learn of love.

therefore. above all. in the end.

romania and ukraine taught me this.

that which matters most is that which i knew from the beginning:

everybody wants to love, everybody wants to be loved, and everybody heals with love.

because it's about people. it's always about people.

to the east.

The sun has always and will forever rise in the East.  In the East is where the West was first won. In the East is where my West was won.

I found out today that the program that began my new life is being discontinued. The BYU Romania International Internship. And in that moment, a piece of my heart broke. Died, if you will. Separated from me, even if only for time.

When I left Romania, I knew it might be until eternity began again before I’d reunite with my little ones: before I’d look into their eyes and all of everything we experienced and felt together was in the present, before I called them by name and they ran to me with kisses in their perfected temples. I knew, though, that someone would be there for them. That some young, unexpecting intern would take my place. I always trusted that and therein laid it down and came to peace, moving on. But now they will no more.

An orphanage. Section 2. Children with disabilities.

Ghița—made for me and I for him, for he is mine.

Maria—the perpetually favored and fine.

Vali—the scratches and bruises that scarred into love.

Costya—a quiet, and pure whited soul as a dove.

David—the sunshine boy who approached heaven’s door.

Flora—the best friend who laid in wait, heart aching sore.

Dmitru—a miracle, content and pure good.

Alexa—a monkey of cuddles who shakily stood.

Ilia—pacified only when allowed his wheels to dance.

Ana Maria—the most patient that gloried in the very sound of chance.

A hospital. Spitalul. Clinic de Copii: Sfânta Maria. Where it comes when you start. Where I gazed into the eyes of heaven and ultimately came to own the town.

The East is where my West was won.

This is where I touched heaven and was given the grandest gifts of all:

Pure unfailing contentment and satisfaction.

Fully lost and immersed in the cause of love.

The West was won in love.

And as the sun sets there, I look again to the East.

large dirt holes in bucharest.

thanks to having a final last-minute planned get together breakfast this morning with romania friendlies,

i can finally cross trying kneader's all you can eat french toast breakfast off my bucket list.

kneader's? smells amazing, is adorable, and is delicious.

why have i not been there before? no one knows.

it was a morning well spent.

laughing, reminiscing, laughing some more.

and i adore how easily we all click into place and easily chat with one another.

the dynamics haven't changed a beat.

hilarious.

what's with all these goodbyes lately?

and yet, they've only just begun.

25 days, world. twenty-five.

 my comments about the above picture:

they're all adorable.

my hair looks super stringy because of the way it was laying. gross.

mihai loves taking pictures just as much now as he did a year ago. oh wait. haaa.

you say goodbye, i say goodbye.

today was my last day of work. suddenly saying goodbye to people i'll likely never see again in my life makes the fact that i'm leaving so soon feel infinitely more real. t minus 26 days. almost 25, actually.

THREE POINT FIVE WEEKS. WHAT?

and yet maybe i wish it was october and i was already on the way to ukraine.

lauren rose moved out, so kylie and i are left alone. which is kind of sad seeing as i am hardly ever home. or wasn't, anyway, until now that i'm done working.

7 days from right now, soul sister and i will be partying it up

today at work we had mcdonald's breakfast to celebrate mine and another girl's last days.
my guilty pleasure=mcdonald's breakfasts. lurve them.

i feel like i don't remember how to write lately.

oops.

though i must say, i don't recommend going on a mission for those that would like to keep their sanity.

or maybe that's just me.

3 (and a half) weeks! bring it.

ps. mini romania reunion tomorrow? don't mind if i do!

gathering, giving.

how is iași so cool?

i know way too many people that are somewhere in romania right now.

why am i not with them?

proofs.

so here's the thing, i quoted west wing at work today. that awkward moment when your coworker doesn't even know what you're talking about? yeah. it happened. i drink from the keg of glory, donna. bring me the finest muffins and bagels in all the land! we cancelled a lesson ten seconds apart from each other. like, how cool are we? so we're just holding out for the day we do so or submit something literally at the same second it'll happen one day, people. and we'll have chocolate to celebrate. (and the finest muffins and bagels in all the land, of course.)

obviously my days are really exciting. aha. ha. oh wait.

they're about as average as you can get. minus a papanasi date a few weeks ago with kylee.

it's fine, she's like many inches taller than me. and wayyy more fashionable.

but i love her, so i guess it's okay.

speaking of fashion sense, or the lack thereof, i turn twenty-one in less than a week. less than a week, people. and based on how i feel about my closet this week slash the past forever, you would think i was twelve. maybe fourteen, on a good day. i feel like being twenty one is one of those ages where you have to start looking the part. dang, gena.

or, another out of average experience was that time lauren rose and i went to a play. we went to a play on friday night! (this shows how cool slash pathetic we usually are.) we went to the secret garden with my grandparents and it was just plain lovely. and the man playing archibald and his performance of lily's eyes? well, neither of our pairs of eyes were dry for the entire evening. it's fine. have i ever mentioned how much i love the secret garden? i loved the book when i was little. the movie. and the musical. ohhh that music. most excellent. like, the recordings don't even do it justice.

or there was that time i had dinner with the famous natalie. like, i'm honored to just be in her presence, really. and she shared all her wisdom and i gained a newfound respect for her entire life, moreso than before.

or another time i had lunch with the legendary freshman roommate courtney renee.

it happened. i miss that girl. it's been too long.

member that time there was a slight scare that i'd have five more free weeks than originally planned? don't worry, nipped that one in the bud real darn quick. but that's bound to keep you on your toes.

so here's the thing. i should probably be fired from this whole, mission prep thing. i'm really bad at it. today i told laur i should set goals like watching a season or two of west wing completely before i go (my quoting it today inspired me) or a harry potter marathon or something. and then she told me i'm really setting my sights high. shoooooot. sure beats things like shopping that i haven't done yet or planning i haven't done.

i really should make a list of all these little things to be done.

like writing a letter to a person from my past. / finishing slash starting (shhh) my birthday gift for laurs. yes, her birthday was a month ago. i'm over it. / making a commitment and actually start buying outfits for the mish-it's fine, i don't want to look like an idiot, okay? we all know the story behind sista missionaries. i refuse to be the one everyone is embarrassed by. hellooooo, we want a nice face for the church out there in the yonder regions of ukraine, amirightoramiright? / or we could mention the sorting of my apartment and preparing to move out. / oh. and the grocery store? what's that? (jokes. ha. kind of. except not.) [except for the time i went to costco with sherry and came out with a pineapple. yes, i bought a pineapple. did you know i love pineapple. i love pineapple. so it's fine.]

but here's the real thing: having it be a holiday weekend and birthday weekend on top of that gives me all the more reason to put all these important things off or to do them as i please.

or not do them. it's the same thing, right?

in case you haven't noticed, i need to be legitimately in the mtc on my way to being in ukraine like, yesterday.

living in provo is cool and all. but i'm ready for adventure in the great wide somewhere, you know?

(nevermind the fact that the great adventure begins with 11 weeks of captivity in insanity land of the mtc.)

more west wing hilarity right over here. you're welcome. never mock the finely honed sense.

"i have a confession, mr. president. i never voted for you.

welp, thanks for trying. but i'm still here."

okay, so maybe the west wing is a my family thing?

it's like whatever.

cum știți românească? au revoir!

this is one of the first things someone in romania said to me in an actual conversation. it was the apartment owner coming over to fix things near the beginning when we got there. yeah, we didn't know romanian very well then, but kind of did. and then he liked to give his greetings in french. he was full of fun adventures. (like that time at the end of july that our neighbor came out in his boxers. and the owner ran up and down the stairs in our bloc. and magically our electricity worked after flickering for the entire summer. but whatever.)

one year ago today, right this moment, i was in the airport. sitting and waiting for a plane in salt lake international, questioning my sanity and nervous about the three months that stood before me. if i could go back in time and relive that moment, these are the things i would tell myself. a letter to me. about my time there, and about coming home. (the horror, the horror.)

1. this is not nearly as terrifying as you're expecting. take a deep breath. and an enormous chill pill.
2. you can do this. it won't even be the hardest thing in your life. but just plain hard. however, that being said, it will be the most rewarding thing you've ever done. i gained so much more from the entire experience than i ever could have given it.
3. when people ask you about why you're going to romania, own it. give them reason to put romania on the map. because right now, every person that asks in all those airports thinks you're out of your mind for going there. little do they know.
4. most people in romania don't care about you. and in iași nearly all of them aren't looking to kidnap you in the night through the big balcony and window across the back of the whole apartment, and they're not looking to steal everything you own (minus the gypsies that want your pampers. aveți pampers? pampers?). they're just living life, making it through and worrying about themselves and the people closest to them. because in a big city full of people that just live and work and eat and sleep (plus some students), that's just what you do.
5. concerts at the palace are the best. summer evenings in iași are just plain the best.
6. revel in the balcony time. revel in it. and embrace the new insights you glean from every little thing.
7. eat more shaorma while you're there. but seriously. and don't be so cautious.
8. you're going to love these kids more than your own soul and every other part of the universe. and you're going to own that spitalul. so own it, and live it. take each day in stride, because when in romania, there's always an adventure around the corner. and that's what makes it exciting.

9. naughty children are universal. and the sly smile they give when they know they're being naughty on purpose? yeah, that's pretty universal too.
10. not everyone in the world will like you. and most will be indifferent to you, not recognizing what you're doing, experiencing, and thinking. and some won't even try to understand or follow any part of it, whether they're in romania or back home. and that's okay. it's really okay. that's their prerogative.
11. all those nights when you first got to romania that you spend turning off the light in the living room, and using your ipod to get back the entire oh, seven feet to the couch that was your bed? don't worry about it. there are no monsters lurking. that habit will end by june.
12. watching the moon and sky outside your window every night as you go to sleep? revel in that. because you'll miss it more than you expect. (and the crosses on the distant mountain/hill. so beautiful.)
13. the problems you expect to be problems never really turn into much of a problem. however, beware of the unexpected.
14. you're not going to forget these days and moments. ever. make them worth remembering, not regretting. and i promise, it really is worth it to go to the hospital that afternoon that you feel near death from being sick. because that day turns out to be incredibly touching and eye-opening when you meet a special little boy with amanda.
15. don't ever lose the mental picture of the moments the kidlets smile and laugh, especially when they're laughing with you. don't ever. especially the first day you get to know lori, one of the workers in your room. and little M gives you a back massage as you play with V's hands and say the names of everyone in the room. because that's a moment worth treasuring.
16. a little (or a lot) of sweat never hurt anyone.

17. the feeling of V's bony, skinny jaw against your jaw and zygomatic bone as she gives you kisses every morning? that's something you'll miss most, despite the bites, scratches, and bruises she'll give you. don't worry. she's one of your favorites soon. it's worth it to figure her out. and when you see the behavioral differences between when you came and when you left? so worth it. and you'll just love her pieces. especially when she says eh-neh-neh. (emily.)
18. you're going to think of romania every single day. sometimes for longer, sometimes just momentarily. and you'll never forget their faces. the kids, the babies in the hospital. you can't forget. and you don't want to. so take a good look and give warm embraces and lots of kisses while you still can.
19. when you first get home, it's going to be hard. it's going to be really hard. you'll feel lost. you'll feel like this is a feeling that so many don't or can't understand, and that's frustrating. but it'll be okay. just get through it. just because they can't feel it too doesn't mean that you have to forget. so don't forget. and yes, fall semester's limbo stage is going to be hard. really hard. creating a combination of life here and trying to keep romania a part of you is not easy. and you have to be changed. because life is about change. and some people aren't going to make it through with you or even care, but that's okay. because meeting new people is entirely easier, and suddenly one day you'll look back and realize with a pang of bittersweetness that you've moved on. and while there will be bouts of romania obsessing or revery, those bouts, unlike before, will end. and when you're done, you get up and move on. before, they were paralyzing, but therapeutic and needed at the same time. because through looking back, you gain perspective. it'll be okay. it will all be okay. i promise.
20. your kids are okay. someone else will be watching over them and loving them while you think of them from afar, because you can't be with them. and someday you'll understand that and why it can't be you. but for now, just trust that it's okay and they are protected. and while it just hurts, let it hurt. because following that hurt, you'll hear about them. and you'll tell yourself that the differences in them now are partially due to their time with you, even though you only saw glimpses of that morphing into something better. and maybe it wasn't you. but you're going to tell yourself that forever.

21. you're going to learn fast that your room is the outsider room. with a favorite within it that gets spoiled, but with many more that get ignored by nearly everyone except for the requisite feedings. and that's one of the things that teaches you the most and gives you the most meaningful experiences. but yeah, it does stink. there's no denying that. and on those days that you cry for them, cry. for not all tears are bad. even if everyone else ignores them, you are blessed with being able to know them for who they truly are. cunoaște. seeing them for who they truly are, and that makes it worth it. it is a privilege. (but you'll probably still be a little annoyed about a few little things from here to kingdom come.)
22. just make it to march 7th. deciding officially to go on a mission (which you'll decide in romania, but tell no one but your journal. and laurs.) is an ordeal, and the whole process is an ordeal. but in that moment, just after 8pm on march the 7th, when tender mercies rain down upon you and your dreams of returning to europe are fulfilled, it will be worth it. and in the moment you recognize you're returning to eastern europe, an obscure place that you've come to adore, well--that feeling is one of the sweetest in the world. god is good and you are so blessed. it's just not always the easiest to get there. it's worth it. all the tears and frustrations and oppositions are worth it. you just have to get there. i believe in you. and you'll be grateful for all the experiences you're about to have and all the things you're about to learn for the rest of forever. never forget that. it's all worth it. every little moment counts, and you'll always be in the place you need to be. don't ever forget that either. you're always right where you need to be. and your job is to figure out why you're there and what to make of it.
23. never let singing hymns in romanian lose its luster. they're just not the same in english. miss that.
24. embrace the culture. they're so great. the romanian people and culture are beautiful. you'll fall in love with that place.
25. the last thing i'd say, is this. enjoy the small moments even more than you already will. revel in them. embrace the things you're learning, not just from your kids, but from your group, the branch, and the workers. so take those moments, and remember them. take them in, mold them into yourself, and live them.

chronicles of the romanian experience (part of it, anyway) can be found here.

sheets are swaying from an old clothesline.

in case you haven't noticed, i haven't talked about romania much recently.
granted, you probably haven't noticed. i haven't talked about much of anything recently. but. i've noticed.
not in depth anyway, aside from this particularly thick and important post.
though roslyn did get me hooked on listening to this.
well, the new group arrived in romania last week, which means it's been nearly a year since i departed on that grand adventure. nearly a year. how is that even possible? it doesn't feel like a year ago, and yet i've come miles and miles since then.
a few weeks ago i was talking to roslyn about romania (please, what else do we ever talk about?) and how sometimes it makes me annoyed when i hear other people talking about romania, or run across blogs of interns from years and years ago. and i was annoyed at myself for being annoyed by it. what is it to me if they had the wonderful opportunity of experiencing the beauty and joy of romania too? but then, i start judging them based on how they experienced it all, and whether or not they truly got it. and when they didn't get it, it made me frustrated. and even if they did, it made me frustrated. why? because i keep romania locked within my heart. it's a treasure. and hearing other people talk about it for some reason makes it less unique. roslyn pinned it on the head and figured it all out. we revel in the fact that it seems so obscure. iasi, romania. you've never even heard of it. and then suddenly someone else has been there too? it's a threat to what we hold dear. when honestly, it isn't necessarily. it's still unique. and nothing can take anything away from the experience we had there. from the experience i had there.
around the same time a few weeks ago, i realized that my romania chapter is officially through. it needs to be through. i need it to be through before i can face the future. i need to stop hanging on to it, and it needs to be in the past. while i know this is for the better and there are only good things ahead, it was hard to cope with this fact and to let it go, trusting and having faith that there are those that are and will be there to catch it. catch everything about romania. because it can't be me, and that's what kills me the most. even if i wanted to, i couldn't. going to ukraine will be similar in many respects, but it's an entirely different routine. the work is essentially the same, almost. the goal, i should say. but really, it's not the same experience. and it shouldn't be. i've looked back long enough. i've looked both ways long enough. now i need to turn around and look forward only, trusting that everything else around me will be okay. and it will. i know it will.

once again, photo courtesy of rossles.

so yeah, it still makes me jealous or a little irritated when i hear about other people having this experience, but i'm learning to get over it. (in case you never knew, i'm not perfect.) and while it does make my heart hurt sometimes when i feel the brunt of how much i love and miss my kids and the fact that i will be apart from them in body for awhile, it helps to know there are people taking care of them and angels watching out for them. i know there are. a constant prayer of mine will always be their health, happiness, and that they may feel loved, even if it's not from someone on earth. they must always feel love. the thing is, romania in its own right was incredible. pretty sure i have a whole possible list of things i learned from romania. which maybe includes, but is not limited to:

1. not all gypsies are as bad as everyone makes them sound. and at the same time, sometimes they really are. and honestly, i wouldn't be surprised if this picture was taken right across the street from where we lived. because it looks like an exact scene from iasi. dead. serious. i think it really was taken there. so in case you were wondering what the gypsies were like that we saw all the time, especially near the hospital and inside it--well, now you know. just imagine them with a baby on their hip and floating around the hospital in packs. check.

2. ominously dark concrete staircases inside a bloc aren't nearly as scary and foreboding as they look. mostly they're just a pain when your elevator decides to catch on fire and leave itself out of commission for over a week. we lived on the sixth floor, which is equivalent to the seventh floor by american standards. and to get to the first floor, which is the second by american standards, it was really like going up two levels. let's add on some heavy 3-5 liter bottles of water plus any food purchases. yep, our quads were looking niiiiice. and our backs hurt frequently.

3. a positive and easy-going attitude can get you through anything. when in doubt, just continually tell yourself, "welcome to romaniaaaa!" that was my mantra, and guess what? it worked. so through every weird thing we encountered or weird situation, i learned fast to laugh it off. because really, that's usually all you can do.

4. you can't get very far in life if you don't show up for your opportunities in life. the benefits of being there far outweigh the benefits of staying home. always. even if you do end up having a day from hell. such days are far more exciting when they're happening in a new place. that's what my uncle always says. and guess what? he's right. and it's days like that that make you appreciate the heaven days all the more.

5. it is possible to love deeper and more infinitely than you ever before thought you were capable of. just when you feel like you're nearing a boundary within yourself, you heart grows some more and clears out space for the most essential things.
6. communication doesn't always need words. in fact, sometimes it's more significant without them.
7. the power of smiles and laughs can not be overstated.
8. eastern europe and romania have more to them than one would ever think. much more. they are a beautiful people in a beautiful place.
9. no expression of caring or love was ever wasted. ever. even if you don't get to see the impact of it. because it's safe to say, you usually won't.

this list is limited and by no means all inclusive. just a little taste. much more can be found here or browsing through here. who would have thought a few years ago that this is who i'd become? ties not to western europe, but eastern europe instead. i'm a girl of obscure places. places that i love and i think everyone would too if they gave it a chance.

i made a little realization recently while at the homecoming of sister sara. while listening to her talk (and controlling myself from crying because i'm so excited to go and because crying is just what happens when you're going on a mission. face it.) i was amazed at how eloquently she expressed herself. eloquence. not that she wasn't before. but now there was power in it. a new ability to communicate in words exactly what people needed to hear.  i think romania was like a first mission for me. and while i was there, i learned to listen. because that's mostly all i could do. i couldn't talk with most my kids, not in a language barrier kind of way, but in a they're completely nonverbal kind of way. so i'd talk to them, and listen to all the things they couldn't say. i had to learn to listen. and i think that maybe, just maybe, in ukraine i will finally learn to speak. from the mountain tops. oh, how i'll speak. listening comes first, and that has been learned. next up comes my weakness: speaking or teaching in any form of eloquence. baby steps. they're all just baby steps. that's all.

actually, every part of life is just a baby step towards more. that's what i've decided.
especially for me. in this moment. romania lead me to ukraine, with so many things before, in between and after. but for now, it's all about both a remembrance of the past and anticipation for the future.
it's a beautiful life, they say. it's a beautiful life i live. it sure is.

ps. yes, i'm still obsessed with this song. hence the post title.