Here I sit. On a bench in a walking park (playground equipment, too) beneath rustling branches on the cusp of frosty ere-winter. Bright, strange houses surround me, and a fortress church long abandoned-- steeples, clocks, wall, and all-- looms quietly to my right. The warm sun glows on every west-facing surface.
Here I am in Europe, in Romania, in Transilvania, in a bustling village called Breteiu.
The smell of the damp outdoors, the far-off sounds of children's laughter and construction, and the November breeze capture my attention today. I feel as if my senses are dulled and yet filled with wonder.
I can't help but question again. Why am I here? I know: "To glorify God." I know; but I don't understand.
[...]
Așa, God is creative. He is supremely faithful, too, and He will make a way.
I hope that tomorrow I get to work a lot, and that at some point I can find Romanian Christmas presents for everyone at home.
Here I leave you.
Warmly,
Ruth