Broken and Made Whole

The next morning we traveled to a nearby village where the doctor opened the doors of his clinic and welcomed us warmly. Villagers who had heard we were coming were already waiting for an opportunity to have some much needed free medical care. Teams of two were assigned to rooms and began to see patients. Dave and I set up a “pharmacy” which meant unpacking and organizing the medical supplies we had with us. Pain meds, ointments, bandages, bandaids, cough meds, etc. were sorted so we could quickly provide what was needed. We counted out ten Tylenol and put them in little envelopes. We watched as people wept clutching their treasure, knowing that for a few hours they would have relief from pain. Hearing life threatening coughs, seeing wounds not properly treated, watching some struggle to walk using sticks as canes, was more than I could handle at times and I took breaks to pray and get my emotions under control. I felt so ashamed of my lack of appreciation for the expert medical care I enjoyed constantly while these dear people suffered so much. At the end of the day, tired as they were the team told stories of how they had been able to share the love of Jesus through interpreters. Joining hands, the patient’s physical and spiritual needs were lifted up in prayer. Our team was “Jesus with skin on” and we felt very privileged to be there.

The next day we found ourselves in a home for the elderly. It was owned by the church and during the day nurses were there to help the residents, serve them meals and provide activities for them. However, at night the staff had to leave because if they stayed, the government would consider it a medical facility and would move the elderly residents into large government run facilities, lacking the personal loving care provided by the Christian staff. Fortunately, they were just a phone call away if there was an emergency during the night.

Our team members moved from room to room, each with an interpreter, taking blood pressure, temperatures, listening to lungs, changing dressings and tenderly demonstrating the love of Jesus. I went into a room with Sue and while she cared for one woman, her roommate sat on her bed and looked up at me with a big smile. I moved toward her and she reached out and pulled me down to sit by her, all the while clutching my hand. We could not communicate with words but I sensed the hunger in this precious soul for human touch, someone just to be there with her and help pass the long day of boredom. When it was her turn to be examined, she didn’t want to let go of my hand but I needed to spend time with her roommate. When Sue finished, we hugged each of them, prayed and with tears streaming down our cheeks, moved to the next room.

That afternoon one of our paramedics had all the residents gather in the dining room. He took a dummy out of a bag, which at first startled them but then laughter erupted as he introduced his pretend patient and through the interpreter, demonstrated how to do CPR. They took turns, wanting to learn so as one of them said, “We can save each other’s lives if we can do this.” We all laughed when one man said, “I will do mouth to mouth with the ladies!” We did not expect this response from an elderly villager. After many more hugs, we packed up our equipment and headed home, tired but glad we had been of practical help.

The next morning, in addition to the medical supplies we loaded the boxes of shoes and stuffed lambs in the van. We drove to the local church building where the sanctuary was already packed with parents and children because they had heard we would be giving out shoes. At a glance, we knew there were far more feet than shoes. Dave and I organized the boxes according to shoe sizes and separated boys and girls styles. I’m not sure how, but the elders of the church controlled the crowd and one by one children came into the room, sat down and allowed us to remove their worn out dirty shoes and replace them with a brand new pair. Sometimes it took more than one try to find the right fit but their eyes lit up and smiles spread across their faces as we handed them their old shoes, hugged them and sent them out with happy hearts and happy feet. Some were wearing flip flops, others bedroom slippers, even though the weather was cold. If a child was hesitant, a parent would hold them on their lap while we fitted the new shoes, all the time expressing their gratitude in Romanian. As time passed, we had fewer and fewer choices and when the parents realized what was happening, they pushed into the hall, in desperation and the elders had to block the door to our room. It helped that we had cuddly stuffed lambs to place in the arms of those who had no new shoes but our hearts were heavy, knowing that during the winter, in that remote Romanian village, there would be many children with very cold feet.