The Only Place They've Heard

Parents' Night Out at International Service



My roommate is spending two weeks in America. I miss her for many reasons. And one of those reasons is that her and I work together to minister to the youth and kids at the bi-monthly International Service. She runs the children's Sunday school class and I run the youth. And we also decided to help with monthly events. These are great hang out times, parties, and get togethers with the different groups. My roommate and I plan together, talk together and help one another. With her being gone, I taught both the youth and kids together. And next Saturday, we have another event with the kids that I am planning on my own. It makes me appreciate all the work she does.

And the work is worth it. I think of all the kids that come to International Service. I think about their families. Many are missionary kids where it is their opportunity to learn about the Lord in English. Others are embassy, military or kids of scholars. And this is the only place they've ever heard the Gospel, stories of Jesus or the importance of the Bible. I am excited about this. It is amazing the opportunities God opens, even when least expecting it.

Abandoned

Last week I spent the day at an orphanage in the town of Ungheni. I enjoyed talking with the kids, playing soccer and singing worship songs. But it is incredibly sad to be reminded of what I see as the essential breakdown of the Moldovan family: immigration. So many of the kids I talked to at the orphanage have parents, they are just abroad working, with promises to one day come and rescue their children. I hear stories and meet young people all the time who are simply left, because mom or dad got a job as a house cleaner, a waitress, a dancer or an apple picker. And these kids are waiting for the return of their parents. Some are trying to keep their apartments, care for younger siblings, and go to school as normal. Others have been placed with friends, relatives, neighbors or in orphanages. The sad thing, with as many stories as I hear about children being abandoned, I rarely hear stories of parents coming back, fortunes in hand, to whisk their children away to the wonderful promises of the West.

A Hand in It

I like to cook. When I began cooking I was always comforted that my mom was around. She is an excellent cook and she would always help me. At the end, I would always have her taste the dish I had made and she would add spices to make it perfect! I always knew that whatever I made would turn out well, because my mom had a hand in it.

I am feeling like this at the Home of Hope. This ministry is messy and there is no one else taking this task on in this part of the world. I am certain that we all make mistakes at least once a day in our ministry to the women. But, regardless, God has a hand in it and even though we don't know what we are doing, He does! It will turn out well.

Christmas in Sarata Galbena

In Relationship

It is in being in relationship with others that one's person is defined. One learns who she or he is, his or her value and personality. God calls us to be in relationship with Him and one another. He designed it like this. And it is in relationship, good quality relationship with God and others, that the lives of the women at the Home of Hope will be changed. I have been with these women for three months now and I am overwhelmed by their brokenness and their need for love. I am profoundly aware of the fact that I am not a therapist, social worker or even a pastor. But I love God and I love these women. So, I do what I can. I take them second hand shopping, I practice English with them, I treat them to the coffee shop, remind them that losing a few dollars is not as bad as it seems. I encourage, learn to make Moldovan food, eat meals, dance around the living room and watch movies. I am in relationship with them. And I pray that through that I can help draw them to God, find who they were made to be and teach them to love.

Two Lost

I have taken on the task of youth leader to the International Community here in Moldova. I was hesitant at first, but I really love it. I enjoy the small group I have, with kids ranging from age 10 to 17. We meet along with the parents and kids twice a month for service and have an activity once a month. It is great! We have missionary kids, embassy kids and kids just visiting. But our group is small. And sadly, we just lost two. Jon (13) and Rebekah (15) were only in Moldova for three months. Their dad was here on a Fulbright scholarship. Last night was their last night. This is something one gets used to in Moldova: people coming and going. But we will surely miss them. And I pray they will continue to grow in the Lord when they return to the states.

Pizza and Bowling

Morning Prayer

We sat at the Home of Hope today: women, workers and one small child. On Tuesdays we have meetings about how life is going in the home, practical scheduling and always a small Bible study. Today we decided to pray for one another. And the sharing began. It was amazing to see how the workers have become so close in the past year. The women in the home are slowly revealing their brokenness before us and before God. We just prayed for our families abroad, sisters still stuck in trafficking, and the future of the women in the home. Their hearts are really softening to God. The littlest one, our 2.5 year old, ended the prayer with a loud exclamation: "There! We prayed!!" And that was it, but God moved. And He still moving in the Home of Hope. So when we are praying Tuesday mornings don't hesitate to pray with us and for us.

Inadequate Love

I sat at the Home of Hope yesterday. This is our rehabilitation center for trafficked women that recently opened. The women and I were drawing pictures of our present life and our future life. One of the girls just drew her boyfriend with hearts and flowers. She said that he is her life. I have met this man, unkind and condescending. I asked myself, what can release this girl from this man's grip? She has never seen real love. In fact, all the women in this room have never seen real love. The only real love comes from God.

And then it hit me. I am the incarnation of that love. I must admit, I do not feel empowered, stirred toward action or even excited. I feel incredibly overwhelmed, small and inadequate. I have been pondering God's unwarranted love for man and His great sacrifice. I am sure I can never fully convey that love to anyone. All I can think is I need to pray more.

Convoy of Hope Internship

The Convoy of Hope interns were in the country for five weeks. I had the joy and privilege of helping host this team.

This is an update by Nancy Raatz: Director and Dreamer of the Home of Hope Moldova.

"This afternoon I'm exhausted and I'm thrilled. We went as a Home of Hope staff to a short term shelter this morning and met with the first women who will come to our home next Monday. We talked first with the social workers who manage these women's cases, then we met with the women. Three women will come to the Home on Monday. Today we met with two of them. They also have three children that will come with them.

Both of the women we talked with today spoke Russian so I was out of the conversation, but I sat in amazement at the staff God has put together. Rodica is such an amazing woman. She asked them (I was told later) their dreams for life and said that we are here to help them reach their dreams. We are not here as an end in their lives, but to help them move to what their lives can be. Elena told them they could know that we are a family and they will be a part of this family. And Sara told them they are not alone. We will help them learn to raise their children.

We began to dream about games to play and being "Auntie"--"Tante" to some little girls who have had no one to love them. We began to see these women that sat so scared, so lost as women that God has called us to show His love and healing.

After the meeting we talked about how God has so much more ahead. So often we think we are here to do just one thing and God leads us to another. We built a Home for women to find healing from the scares of trafficking and we are also building a bridge to the women who work in the short term shelter. It is not a place that is faith based, but there are lovely women that work there and care about these young women who are trafficked and friendships are forming with these women also.

I'm excited for the days ahead. I know God has lead us this far and He will continue to lead us."

A Friend

I just wanted to tell you all about my new friend Lucas. He is seven and a ton of fun. I spent the past week in the suburb of Straseni with Pastor Nic and his family. Lucas is his oldest son. Lucas and I just got along. We played war, he showed me his newly acquired piano skills, he beat me in UNO and we caught frogs together. In short, Lucas and I are friends. We talked about his plans for future travel, how to learn languages and the best techniques for golfing with a stick and a rock. I am delighted about the friendship and Lucas double checked that his family had my phone number before I left. I can't wait to see him and his family again.

A Good House Wife

Sasha turned and looked at me, beaming. “Sara,” he said in Russian, with a little bit of surprise in his voice, “you are a great house wife.”

Sasha and the other young men of Sarata Galbena had been watching me that evening as I helped prepare the potluck for forty people. They were impressed that I knew how to set the table, cut the bread and even remembered the tea. I was taken aback by the comment. I knew that Sasha had given me a compliment. In fact for a Moldovan woman, it would have been the ultimate compliment. But I am not Moldovan and I did not come here to be a ‘good house wife,’ I came to be a missionary. I am not here to make food, remember tea and cut bread; I am here to serve the church and seek the lost. I wasn’t sure how to respond: offended or pleased. I smiled as the other young men around nodded in agreement and soon left the table.

As I sit here writing this, I am not offended, but delighted. Moldovan women are strong, good mothers and excellent wives. And the men here are constantly bragging about them: their good looks, competency and skills. Sasha showed me respect. He sees the other Americans around and watches how I have learned, adapted and grown in my new country and environment. He was never trying to offend, but encourage. It is on this foundation of respect that influence and change can be brought about. And that is real missionary work.

Brother Vasile in Mihaileni

I spent the past few days up North in the village of Mihaileni. I have enjoyed getting to know the team that I will spend the next few weeks with, but my favorite part has been connecting with the Moldovans in that area. We worked on the walls of the new church building, painted, visited the poor and had services. I loved sitting down chatting with the men and women in the church working with us. The deacon and overseer of the church is a wonderful man named Brother Vasile. He is a man I respect and have learned a lot from. The thing that I love most about Brother Vasile is his blessings and words of encouragement. Every time I translated for him, he would be say kind words to someone on the team. He knew how to build people up. I look forward to spending time in that church again and in the meantime I know that Brother Vasile will be praying for me.

Taking to the Streets with Lola

Lola is my new Miniature Schnauzer. She is almost three months old. Because I live in an apartment Lola can't just go play in the back yard. So we go out onto the street almost seven times a day for her to go potty. She is learning and doing great! In the process, I am meeting people.

My neighbor kids love her, though a few are afraid of the six pound, tail wagging, nose licking beast! And the adult neighbors think I am crazy to keep a dog in the house. Dogs are for the streets and for backyards. Not many dogs live inside here; it is a new concept. That is why I am surprised at how many people stop, stare, ask questions or pet the puppy.

I have talked to grannies and their grandchildren, Jehovah's Witnesses, and business men. I had a long discussion about the Bible with the neighbor while he was cleaning out the garage. I talked to a college girl working on her thesis and we were joined by a lonely old woman who rambled for fifteen minutes without a breath. I was chased down the street by a man trying to over stuff Lola with some sausages he had in his bag. I kept telling him no, but he was very insistent.

But mostly I am stopped by people who want to tell me that I am not raising my puppy correctly. She is too fat, too thin, too young or too small to be outside. It is great fun to be lectured by those who have never owned a pet in their lives! Lola is a great tool and certainly a great way to interact with the world.

And she likes to bark at the hair dryer...which is really funny!

Home of Hope Container

Home of Hope

The Home of Hope is a home for women who have survived human trafficking. These women are often repatriated to Moldova and have are left with no options and no future. The trauma of the slavery alone has left many of them mentally unstable. There is a stigma in Moldova of women who have returned from such a lifestyle and many of them are rejected by family and friends. Some have children, some have HIV and all of them need Jesus.

The Home of Hope offers just that: Hope. This is a place of safety, recovery, medical care and job training. The women are offered a place for one to two years and are gently loved by workers and friends with the love of Jesus Christ.

I am excited and blessed to be a part of this home. It has been in the making for five years and in finally coming to fruition. Please pray for us at the Home of Hope, for the American and Moldovan workers and for the women.

Ministry

I wish I could sit here and report amazing things. It would be amazing to be able to tell my readers that I preached a sermon and thousands came to know the Lord. Or that everywhere I go, people just come up to me and ask me how they can know Jesus too. Or maybe every time I saw a man or woman on the street with a deformity, my shadow could simply pass by and that person could be healed.

That simply is not the case. But God is growing me and as I grow, my ministry grows. He is working in me and through me, teaching me that it is not the things I do, but the character of who I am. As I am here trying to navigate my way as a minister of God's freedom, I have committed to a few basic principles.

1. Glorify God and exalt his name! I know God's word and what he asks of his followers. I need to evaluate my actions every step and continue to grow in relationship, obedience and the Holy Spirit.
2. To be a learner. I am young and haven't been in ministry for very long. But I can watch and learn from the Americans and Moldovans here.
3. To be faithful in the small things. It is my job to take the tasks given me, however simple they may be, and complete them to the best of my ability. Whether it is teaching Missionary kids, going through inventory or helping schedule interns. With each task I am faithful in, God gives me more responsibility.
4. Know that God called me. I know I am in Moldova for a reason. My work and relationships are not without fruit.

So praise God. I will keep moving through life in Moldova knowing that God is ultimately in control. Your prayers are cherished.

My friends' neighbor's cousin?

I think that is who he is anyways; my friends' neighbor's cousin. I am looking for a good dog here in Moldova and this man called me ready to help. I met Radu today for the first time at a bus stop up the street from my house. He came walking down to meet me, smoking and covered in tattoos and scars. He even had a semi-mullet as many Moldovan men do. And as I boarded the bus with him, I asked myself, "What exactly are you getting yourself into?"

He decided that we would go to his house for tea first, where I met his gorgeous German Shepherd and his reclusive father. Then we began to traipse through the city from one bus to another. The person we went to see was not home so we went to another part of town. And as we rode and walked, Radu talked. He talked and talked (His excellent English is littered with all the slang words he learned from his summer in the Bronx). I learned about his life and his family, his history and his past. We talked about Moldova and all its problems and what can be done about the future. We met people along the way and I was introduced to many. We discussed the right kind of dog for me and about good decision making.

Then we went through the park, drank from a fresh spring and went back to his house for dinner. His mother and girlfriend showed me their garden and showered me with fresh fruit, soup and kvas (tastes like beer). Then they showed me stacks of photos and finally deemed it dark enough for me to go home.

I didn't find a dog today. It may be months and months until I do. In the meantime, I will get to spend plenty of time with Radu and his family. May God give me favor, wisdom and plenty of His Holy Spirit.

A Moldovan Joke

Ok. So I was told this joke by a Moldovan last night at the park:

A Moldovan emigrates to Italy. This man has never done manual labor, but takes a job helping an Italian man build his house. The first day the Italian man hands his new laborer a can of paint and tell him to paint the house. The Moldovan is perplexed. He has never painted before so he comes up with a plan: Why not just paint the mouth of the neighboring cow and tell his Italian boss that the cow drank the paint?

That evening the Italian returns and wonders why his house is not painted.
"The cow drank all the paint!!" says the Moldovan.
The Italian man quickly leaves, comes back with a gun and shoots the cow. The cow lies there dead.
"Why did you do that?" asks the Moldovan laborer.
"Because," says the Italian boss, "last year the cow ate three tons of my cement."

And that is the end of the Moldovan joke. Hope you enjoyed it at much as I did.

Camp