It was the rainiest day yet. No sun. Just big splashy puddles in lumpy, uneven streets and wind that blew so hard your entire coat got soaked even with an umbrella because the rain blew in from the sides and hit you anyway instead of gently dripping off the sides of your umbrella like it's supposed to. But that was okay, because the children were worth seeing.
It was also the last day to buy beautiful painted Romanian eggs at the Easter market outside, and we had wanted to go after lunch, but the market was closed until when we were supposed to be at the hospital because of the rain. But that was okay, and we never bought those eggs, because the children were worth seeing.
This was our last shabang, the last time to spend time with children who didn't have their own parents, to love them, and to serve them. I was tired, but ready for one last time with them.
We got to the hospital and split up, as we usually do. Half of us started on the top floor, half of us started on the bottom floor. We walked down halls, asked the nurses where the orphans were, were told there were no orphans on that floor, and proceeded to the next floor. But there were orphans there, the nurses just... didn't want us to go see them. Because of the mud on our boots. And because the children would cry. Sometimes we fought them. We didn't fight them today. We just said "Multumesc," thank you, and went to look for more.
We looked and looked and looked. No orphans that the nurses would let us see.
We were supposed to be there for 3 hours, but after 25 minutes, we had searched the entire hospital, and were out of options.
So, we had to go home.
Back through the rain. Soaking through our shoes now. Blowing our umbrellas so hard it was easier to just put the umbrellas away and lean into the rain. 30 minutes of walking up to the hospital. 25 minutes of searching for our last kids. 30 minutes back home. All for nothing. 3 months of being in Romania, trying our best, and on our very last visit- we weren't able to see any kids at all. The nurses still were annoyed with us. And the rain was unrelenting. It was like something was mocking us for trying so hard for so long, because we weren't going to get that one last time.
I'd like to say I learned a great lesson from this, and that it's changed the way I look at service and has helped turn me into a better person. But that wouldn't be true. I still look back on this day and am completely confused. That was the thanks we got for all we did? Grumpy nurses and a rainy day with cold wet feet? That wasn't the perfect fairytale ending we deserved for all our hard work. It wasn't even a good ending. It was just fatiguing.
Maybe sometimes even when you try your very best, it still doesn't work. People still don't want your help. And it rains. And the people that need your help never get access to it, because you can't reach them.
Is it really service and love if you never get to reach the people you're trying to reach?
I hope so. I hope that service and love are beyond that.
I'd like to think what matters is that we tried. We went all the way to search and find them. And we're willing. And we did our best. And we really do love them. Even if it's only in our hearts.
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