Found and Lost

I haven't experienced much of the seasons this year. I closed out the winter in Africa, then on to tropical Sri Lanka and now here I am, springtime in Bosnia. The hillsides are covered with greenery, people are cultivating small plots of land, and the growing season has begun. The days begin with a grey cast to the sky, showers come in spurts, but the afternoons are clear, crisp and the sun breaks through the menacing clouds. While there are still many tell-tale signs of being in the 'third-world' (trash, graffitti covering the buildings, and numerous delapidated structures) there is much here I find quite beautiful. I remarked to Ulla on the landscape, and she was pointing out the impoverishment. I explained in Dallas, there is little green, mostly concrete and all flat!

Today, we returned to the site of the Joni and Friends wheelchair distribution six years ago. Not much had changed, many new children, but there were familar faces there as well. Most of the audience were Down Syndrome, with a few CP adults. They were thrilled! Several in the crowd chose to stand next to me during the entire performance. I made use of their enthusiasm and used them to help with the storytelling. One young Down Syndrome man was our chosen King. When I handed him the scepter, and he donned the crown and the 'Groucho Marx' glasses – he began a Kingly oration for his subjects. My interpreters could not really understand him, but what was definately conveyed in his message – he was having FUN! Oh that we could all be Kings!

We finished up the program, took Polaroids and handed out little gift bags with the frames, lollipops and stickers. An older girl came in at the end, sheepishly hiding behind several of the others. I recognized her immediately. Elena, now grow into adulthood (she was perhaps 15 six years ago), appeared on the national newsletter cover of Joni and Friends with CARE EE for the year-end report of faces of Joni and Friends. I spoke to her and asked 'don't you remember me?' She laughed, and admitted she remembered but wasn't so sure I would remember who she was. She came around, had her picture made, and was excited to see it develop into a lasting memory. As we prepared to leave – Elena ran up behind me and gave me a big hug. She squeezed tight and said 'come back again soon.'

Late in the afternoon, we headed back to the hillsides for another Roma village performance. What a difference compared to the last one. With the daily showers, the roads and driveways are quickly converted to mud puddles. Our final destination was no exception. The children were rushing towards the car, shoes covered in mud and clamoring to get closest to the door before I made my exit. With varying heights and ages, you can imagine the small ones quickly are overrun and pushed aside by their larger more aggresive counterparts. It was a situation out of control, and not getting any better. I stepped from the car with hesitation, as none of the adults traveling with me seemed to be willing to take control of the children. The building where we were having the program seemed small for the growing crowd, however, I knew inside it would be easier to maintain some control of the situation, than if we were left out in the open, easily surrounded!Once inside, the children did settle down some, and showed eagerness to encourage everyone to be quite and listen and learn. There were only a few occassion that we had to stop, while fist fights were stopped, and arguments quelled, and crying babies removed. One last 'trick' to share came too late. The villagers had now heard there was something to 'see' and if you can believe this – opened up the windows and started climbing in to the already overcrowded one room! More and more and more came through, laughing, shouting, smoking, carrying on, standing on chairs, crashing through tables – it was chaotic. When every warm body that could fit into the space was squeezed, pushed, pulled, prodded, shoved inside – I continued. Much of the 'lesson' was lost but....

We explained that we had small gifts for the children and to make their way slowly through the door. We might as well have shot a gun in a herd of cattle – to see the response. Those that came through the window, went back out that way, those that were up front, were being trampled by those rushing forward for their trinkets. A mess hard to get your mind around. What this culture is really like.

As CARE EE made her way outside, I could already see the sacks discarded, trash strewn about, and they were waiting for the next handout. Is this all there is? The Bosnian project director was explaining that the children are improving in their behavior, however, the difficulty is in the fact they are for the most part unschooled, abused in their homes and spend the days begging on the streets. An organized 'program' is too unfamiliar of an occurence. They have no 'model' for what to do in such situations. The workers are struggling, making slow and determined progress. They haven't had the opportunity to teach them about Jesus – yet.

The difference between the Roma village on Sunday and the one today was striking. The hillside village has several young Roma believers who are attending church (when they can make there way the one hour to town) and their testimony within the village has great influence on the children. Because they 'belong' to the community, the things they share is more readily received, there is accountability within their group. The children are listening to their older friends. They have found Jesus.

The dedication of the tireless missionaries, both the foreign ones and the locals to go into these enclaves is humbling. Roma are an unruly, unwilling, unlovely people group. The hillside started the same way, in fact didn't we ALL start the same way?

I praise God for the village today. Jesus has found them! I know they won't be lost for long.