Romania, Part ONE! :)

In Dulles, waiting for departure

Wow. Before I went on this trip, I had always majorly scoffed at everyone who came home from a mission's trip and said they had been "changed". Honestly, I had no patience for it. But coming home from two weeks in Romania, I can say in perfect truth that they were two of the best and most impacting weeks of my life. So much happened, so many iron bonds were formed, and my heart underwent so many changes, I'm finding it difficult to choose where to start....that being said, I shall start at the very beginning because when all else fails, logic is on our side. A quick warning: these will be long posts full of pictures, stories, and tid-bits, so sit back and enjoy 'em! You wanted updates, I give you updates!

Ahem.

The flight from DC to Paris was long and completely strange. We left DC at 10 PM American time, but somehow as we crossed the Atlantic and various time zones, we ended up in Paris around 11:30 their time which was like...6 in the morning American time? At any rate, we were awakened by the flight staff for breakfast at what felt like 3 a.m. Definitely an exotic sensation! We were flying Air France, and believe me, I delighted in hearing all the accents! Yes, I gloried in actually being in Paris...until I had to sit in the stuffy, overcrowded Charles de Gaulle (Sharl dee-gull) airport during the layover. Dan Tate was our voluntary Facebook-Quote-Keeper (and took most of these bombdiggity photos), and has me down as saying, "It felt like a greenhouse, and I was growing way too fast." Pretty much...yeah. :D I did not enjoy Paris as much as I hoped to. But then of course I didn't get out of the terminal. The toilets were nasty, and that soured my whole impression.

Because everyone eats while in Paris, right? 

From Paris to Budapest, Hungary, the accents got thicker, the plane got smaller, and my heart got thumpier. We landed in Budapest and I felt for certain how utterly American I was. My travel-journal (religiously and awesomely kept) describes the moment:

"From Paris, we took a tiny, disagreeable plane to Budapest where we were unceremoniously dumped and made to feel entirely foreign by the total lack of anyone speaking English. We gathered our luggage and wandered to the front door where I then began to second-guess whether Pastor John had or had not got my email with the information of our flights. Oh, it was a rotten moment."

^Yep. Accuracy there. {One quick note about the travel-journal: I became the group historian, and kept the thing so closely that when I left, I found my page-count at something like 104 pages, complete with illustrations. *high fives all round* This means y'all get first-hand impressions from the excerpts: things I would likely have forgotten or described differently had I waited till I was home to write them. Enjoy!}
But Pastor John was there eventually with two drivers (Branson and Mr. Frederickson) and we piled in and were soon acquainted with one of the hallmarks of the entire trip..."Verrrrry bad roads." :D Another spot in my journal is ornamented with a drawing of a car zig-zagging down a skinny, pot-hole-pitted road and the description:

"But the ROADS! Oh my gosh. If you are going to drive in the opposite lane, why not just change the law and make it legal? If you saw our van's footprint from any given stretch of road after the main highway it would look like this: (insert illustration) Absolutely bonkers. (our driver) appeared to be fully confident that driving in the left (wrong) lane to pass 4 eighteen-wheelers was a perfectly normal thing! We seemed ever to be in immediate danger from head-ons or fender-benders. I was happier asleep, while at the same time enjoying our peril."

Yep, this pass occurred at about 80 or 90 kilometers an hour

The road-terror was the first thing about my impressions of Romania to change: by the end of the trip, the "potty roads" held some of our fondest memories. Roads in America are so terribly boring. Adventura would never have been born were it not for the terrible state of the village roads...but that belongs in another story later on. :) Suffice it to say, I love dirt roads full of reckless potholes and reckless-er drivers.

We arrived  at the church and were installed in our apartments and fed the first of our legendarily enormous meals. Our chef was a fellow who, before he became a christian and cooked for God's people, used to cook for the last Dictator each time he came to Arad. This means that our chef could cook like nobody's business. Poafte Buna! ("good appetite")

The first night I wrote my slightly-homesick, disgruntled entry in my journal, which is why you get the first two excerpts above that don't sound overly enthusiastic. The next day was Sunday, and were immediately dunked into life as Pastor John's sidekicks which included three distinct services on Sunday. We were blessed to have a translator part of the time, but for the majority I just listened to the sermons in Romanian, and sang along with the songs as they came in Romanian on the screen. That was so much fun and excellent practice: the tunes were easy, and I could practice my Romanian pronunciation without the inconvenience of everyone else listening. And let it be here recorded that our dear Pastor John speaks way more English than he ordinarily lets on! We got on swimmingly through the first day of church-work! For some reason I neglected to write anything about that first Sunday (probably too exhausted) so I can't recall if we actually shared testimonies and music...at any rate, that was the kick-off day to what became three weeks of playing the VonTrapp family: our main source of ministry in Romania ended up being going around to a different village church every day of the week and conducting a children's service, and then eating dinner, and then conducting an adult service.

                    

We would sing loads of songs (often accompanied by a borrowed guitar) and then give testimonies which would be translated to the people. I'm just giving you the basics now, because later on I will elaborate on how terribly special these times became. *sniff sniff*

I think perhaps my favorite aspect of this trip was the fact that we weren't on a "Tourist Mission's Trip". Pastor John isn't your typical missionary with houses to build and wells to dig and chickens to distribute. He is a pastor and his son, Cristi (they deserve their own entire post later on) is a pastor, and they have a sprawling area of ministry (Cristi travels all over Romania and Europe to preach) and we plopped right into it and followed them at a breakneck pace. Truly, we were able to join into Romanian Church-Life on a local's level which was brilliant and unusual and perfection.

Monday morning we met Cristi (he'd been driving over 1500 miles that weekend, preaching in several places) and before the day was out, we knew we'd met someone really amazing.

 Cristi fit into our group with the ease of an older brother or an uncle or something. Seriously, we adopted him and swallowed him whole into our band of merry men. He is so much like a mash-up of all my hilarious male-relatives that we felt a deep kinship right away. So with Cristi to translate for us (and to make us laugh in the wrong moments) we began our daily schedule:

• 7:00- wake up
• 8:30- group devotions
• 9:00- breakfast
• 10:00 - 1:30- touring sites with Cristi or exploring Arad with the Bales
• 2:00- lunchtime
• 3:00 - 4:00- group practice/prepare testimonies
• 4:30- leave for villages
• 6:00 -children's/youth service
• 7:30- dinner in the village
• 8:00- Adult service
• 10:00- arrive back at the church
• 10:00 - 12:00- loaf, sing, laugh, go to bed

This is the daily schedule, and I will elaborate as time goes on. For now, enjoy this first peep into Adventura: The Romanian Trip Part One! And stay tuned for daily updates from now till we've exhausted to subject! :D If you leave comments with any questions you have, I can be sure to include my answers in the upcoming posts!

who…*what*…ARE you, anyway? by Liza Morales

The word is "theatre kid." And that's "theatre" spelled "T-H-E-A-T-R-E", not "T-H-E-A-T-E-R." I don't know why. But it is. And it's important. And yes, calling myself a "kid" instead of a "child" grates on my southern upbringing. But that is the phrase, that's who we are, and that's how you spell it.

But beyond the name, under the surface, what ARE we? What makes us tick? Why do we do what we do?

We are the theatre kids.

We are dramatic.

We get out on stage and do things everyone would be embarrassed to do in real life - actually, a lot of the time things WE would never do in "real life". But that's okay.

We listen almost exclusively to show tunes.

When we're alone in the house, we belt show tunes and try out new riffs and accents.

We will dance to anything and everything, and can't hear a dance number without choreographing it in our heads, and maybe trying it out on the spot - wherever we happen to be.

We practice our choreography anywhere and everywhere.

We quote musicals in every conversation.

We sing all day long - a cappella, or with accompaniment. Our showers are Showtune Central.

We're used to going to the grocery store or restaurant during tech week in stage makeup. Don't judge.

We have a bazillion inside jokes with our cast mates and theatre family.

We wear show t-shirts most of the time.

We drink throat coat and tea with honey like there's no tomorrow.

We would always rather be in NYC.

We save every playbill from every show we've ever seen.

We get very attached to our cast mates and parting from them after a show is quite painful and involves lots of hugs and kisses and promises to have reunions in the near future. (which don't happen)

We consume inhale food at an astonishing rate during tech week.

Our favorite movies are musicals, and if it's our turn to pick the car music, it's going to be a show and we are going to sing along.

We all have an inner Peter Pan, in that sometimes we just gotta crow.

We get very emotional about anything theatre related.

In other words, we drive everyone else nuts.

We're busy. "Oh, golly...I'd LOVE to. But I have rehearsal." is our slogan. We can rattle off how many minutes are in a year without a second thought….and probably know how many of them we spend in rehearsal. And periods of time in our life are marked by what show we were part of, versus seasons.

We are walking encyclopedias of….useful?….knowledge. Like the exact number of performances for Broadway's longest running shows. Or the names of every single cast member who's ever been in Newsies. Or how many shows Andrew Lloyd Webber has written. Or how many times a show has been revived…and inevitably killed again. We know actors and actresses and directors like our relatives know sports players. (thanks, Wikipedia!) When our favorites leave to do other projects, we get an achy feeling in our stomach and might even cry.

We never quite realize how confusing, complicated, or creepy our favorite shows might be we have to explain the synopsis to someone less informed. Oops. Guess you're right.

We can be very judgmental of others talent, normally because we know we aren't as good as them and couldn't sing that song or do that show as well as they can anyway. But on the flip side, we are also incredibly inspired by those who have achieved great heights, and we work to be more like them.

And speaking of accomplishments, ours can be quite odd. Like being able to name, in order, all the colors in Joseph's coat. Or sing "One Day More" by yourself. Or do the Witch's Rap or "Your Fault" from Into the Woods…or any song from that show for that matter. (grin) "Rock Island" from The Music Man is also a fun one to master. And "Sit Down You're Rockin' the Boat." None of which are familiar to anyone else.

We suffer from PSD, a unique symptom affecting only actors. It stands for "Post Show Depression" and it can be very severe and last for several months - even years. And it's inevitable, if you love what you do. One of the downsides of being a theatre kid. But what goes up must come down. And in the end, it grows you.

We all have dreams. Dream roles, dream shows, dream theaters. (yes, you can spell that the other way) We're willing to try and fail to make those dreams a reality. And some of us will achieve them. Others of us will not. Some of us will "make it" on the stage. Some of us will pursue other lives, and keep it as a hobby. But it never leaves you. And when you're too old to be a theatre "kid", and you become just an "actor" - you'll never forget the early, crazy days.

We are the theatre kids, and we do our best to make the world a happier, more creative place. We're a funny bunch, and you may never know all the drama that goes on in our lives when the spotlight's turned off. Sometimes we need stabler people to bring us back down to earth, but overall, we know how to balance.

It's fun, you know. Being a theatre kid.

"Once I Wept, Now I Dance." by Elizabeth Rose

You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; you have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness. — Psalm 30:11

"Ugh, I'm so stiff today," she says, stretching into her splits with a grimace on her face. "I told myself I'd stretch over the weekend, but I didn't. Now I'm paying for it."

I look up from my own stretching and glance at my friend, whose legs are both extended into a perfect split, exactly one hundred and eighty degrees. Stiff, indeed, I think rather bitterly. I'll be lucky if I can go all the way down in my splits today.

Just a few words, not even spoken aloud. And yet, that seed of discontent needs no more than a few words to act as water, a few unpleasant thoughts to play the sunshine, and it will start spreading roots.

I've been dancing for nearly as long as I can remember. As a little girl, I would spend hours twirling around in some semblance of a pirouette to Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker, giving my own rendition of each respective dance. My favorite track was the third on our CD, titled "March", arguably the most recognizable piece in the ballet. I loved it for its swooping power and the way it made me feel like alternately spinning faster than a top and then leaping until my head threatened to brush the ceiling. My sisters and I begged our mother to allow us to watch the New York Ballet's edition of The Nutcracker down in the basement on the tiny VCR player almost once a week, but we wouldn't sit and watch for long — after about twenty minutes of squishing together on the couch, we would be leaping and spinning about, our movements somewhat less graceful than those we were attempting to mimic. More than anything, we wanted to be like those dancers. We dreamed of performing someday on a real stage, dancing the lead role of the graceful Sugar Plum Fairy.

For someone who has such lengthy history of dance, it might surprise you that the years I've spent enrolled at a studio do not number past seven. From age seven to nine, my sisters and I took weekly classes at a small Christian studio, but when it closed down at the end of our third year, we switched to gymnastics for two years before finding the studio at which we currently dance. We've been here for almost four years now, but sometimes it feels like much longer.

I never have been a particularly talented dancer. I don't say that to garner pity or earn myself attention — it's the honest truth. I don't have the gifting or flexibility to ever pursue dance as a profession. For me, it is enough to learn and grow as best I can in high school and leave my career as a dancer there. If I think about it honestly, I don't want to spend my early adult years pursuing a position as a professional dancer. The brutal competitions, the ugly ways in which the girls treat each other, and the constant anxiety over getting the right part in order to be able to pay your bills would wear me down in a matter of months. Dancing is and always will be something I love, but it does not take precedence over writing, my heart's first love, and reading, something I consider a very valuable asset of my life. Further, I feel the intense lifestyle of a dancer would ruin the art for me after a time. The beauty of it would chip away under the oppressive file of getting parts, obsessing over my weight, and trying to survive.

It's easy for me to type that here as if the matter were my choice alone, but the truth is, I could not make a living off of my talent as a dancer if that was what I desired. I am not a horrible dancer by any standard, but my measure of talent is the bare minimum required by all young ladies who wish to be ballerinas. With so many girls auditioning for just a few spots in ballet companies, my own skill would not be enough to win me a space.

There are, however, girls I know who have the talent I do not, the gifting I will never attain. They dance with a grace and beauty that cannot be rivaled, no matter how hard I may try. And even though I've accepted the fact that the world of professional dance is not for me, it's still hard for me to watch others attaining for something I would love to possess as an option, if nothing more than that. Though I would not choose to dance professionally, I selfishly desire the talent that would allow me to choose on a basis of personal opinion alone. I want to be the one gracefully declining that path, rather than having someone else inform me that I'm not good enough.

At the heart of the issue is pride, rearing its wretched and ugly head, holding me back from humbly admitting that my skill as a dancer will only reach a certain point while others go further. In every other area of my life, I feel competent. My writing is by no means perfect, nor will it ever reach such a height, but I feel relatively confident in my ability to write with greater skill as the years progress. If I put the proper amount of time into the books I pen, I can see improvement. If I study well, apply myself to my schoolwork, and prepare for tests, I will earn a high grade. If I speak French and Spanish around the house, my tongue will speak the unfamiliar syllables with increasing ease. Never has there arisen in my life an area that could not be corrected or improved with time and toil. Dance is a challenge for me because it is one of the few areas in my life that is partly out of my control — and being the stubborn and sinful human that I am, I don't like that.

My dance studio's mission is to make use of this beautiful art as a means of outreach, ministry, and ultimately worship. Though my instructor encourages us to seek excellence and teaches us the same Russian Vaganova technique as the most professional studios, she never urges us to be perfect. Our highest goal is to worship God through our dance as David worshiped the Lord when the Ark of the Covenant was brought into Jerusalem. We never should grow so consumed with thoughts of technique and counts that we lose the beauty of the movements and the reverence for the One we are worshiping. 

I'd like to say I always dance with this attitude. The truth of the matter is that I rarely stand at the barre or go across the floor without at least one discontent thought in my head. I am, however, working to improve on that. Rather than focusing on my own deficiencies, I've been trying to uplift and encourage those around me, even when they feel inadequate. As each day goes by, I'm seeking more and more to turn my focus on the Lord and to dance for Him alone. I know He sees my every flaw, and yet He still calls me beautiful.

And as a dancer, that's all my heart desires.

. . .

Elizabeth Rose is a young lady of tender years who takes pleasure in a great variety of pastimes, chief among them being writing. She lives in the southern United States with her large family, and has been home schooled her whole life. Her debut novel, Violets Are Blue, was published in April 2012 and can be purchased on Amazon. You can find her on Literary Lane, most likely with a cup of tea in one hand and a book in t'other.

A Style Manifesto by Bree Holloway

Here's a very special treat for you all--one I've been super excited to share with you! Today we have a visitor, and not just *any* visitor, but the charming Bree Holloway from Tea with Bree!!

Personal style is something you can't exactly pounce upon. Style is one of those things that take a while to develop, recognize, and feel comfortable with. Whatever your style is will spill into ever facet of your life, and is defined by those very same facets. For example, as Christians, we choose to dress in a way pleasing to our Maker. And the way we dress defines us as Christians (please understand that I don't mean you need to wear an ankle-length skirt every day; but we do dress modestly, differently.)  

But how does one develop this personal style? Since it is such a large part of my life, I cannot touch on every level. But I'll start, and hopefully it will inspire you to explore your own style :) (Note: I am focusing mainly on fashion, since that is a large portion of style. But there are many other aspects, so please don't think your personal style depends solely on your clothing!)

Attitude

A positive attitiude is key to looking posh, and feeling posh as well. :) Nothing ruins a good outfit like a frown. I've always been rather shy, and while it's worn off a little over the years, it's not wholly gone. One of the cons to a shy personality is the reclusive feel you give everyone around you. Especially since I am a writer, people tend to think I'm aloof and too good for them. Oh dear. :/ I'm nowhere near the end of the campaign, but I've begun to encourage people more often, and I try to talk more than I'm comfortable with. Hopefully, this will combat the whole "she's-way-smarter-than-us" lie. :) I also need to work on being a tad more confident. Why? Because if you aren't confident in what you are doing/wearing/saying, etc. no one will be. 

Hair

Nothing quite says "sloppy" like messy hair. Though I'm sure you all agree with me that it's easier to tie your hair up in a ponytail each morning, I promise you, the people around you will appreciate your time and effort if you do something different. That's not to say there's anything wrong with a ponytail, though. With a little bit of volume added at the crown of your head (backcomb) and few properly placed stray hairs (just a couple around the face) will give you a very pretty, clean, but still somewhat playful look. :) I have the bad habit of throwing my hair in a bun one day, and then letting it down the next and enjoying the extra curl. (My hair is naturally wavy, but likes to pretend it's curly by fighting with frizz every time I brush it. I combat this with lots of conditioner and finger-combing in the shower, and very rare brushings of my hair). But when I am concentrating on looking good (I make sure to dress nicely at least five days of the week, whether I am going out or not. I find I can get more done when I feel put-together) some of my favorite styles are the Katniss braid (I'm sure you're familiar with this) a crown braid (braid across your head like a headband) any sort of fishtail braid, or a pinned-up braid (like this). You can check out my hair board on Pinterest to see some of the styles I love. :)

Clothing

Whew. This is a big category. I really love fashion, so to pick favorite styles is like picking a favorite book (and if you don't know how hard that is, I'm afraid we'll never understand each other). But I'll attempt to narrow it down a bit to the things I wear weekly. 

1. Jeans - skinny, boyfriend, and flare. I know a lot of y'all cringe at the idea of anything skinny, so let me clarify: jeans, not leggings. And I don't wear jeggings, either. I wear jeans that fit me like this. Skinnies are great for tucking into boots, and are a fabulous alternative to leggings under a shorter dress for a warm and unique look. :) //"Boyfriend" jeans are jeans that fit bigger, like these. They go great with a understated top, blazer, and some cute heels.//I only wear my flare jeans with heels, because they are quite long (short girl problems). But it's also one of my favorite looks. Like this. How cute is that?

2. Anything unqiue, vintage, floral, lacy, feminine - yeah, I love all that good stuff. Think this,this, or this.

3. When I'm not wearing vintage clothing, I like the clean look of white v-neck tees, straw fedoras, black pencil skirts, blazers, and chunky scarves. Catch my drift?

Shoes

Ask anyone around me, and they'll tell you I'm a shoe-addict. Whoops. But I'm a girl, I have excuses! ;) Being short, I love wearing heels. From 1/2 in wedges to 4-inch heels, I'll wear just about anything pretty and girly or classy and businesslike. Apart from heels, I especially like flats with bows on them, or knee-high boots. This, this, this, & this are all examples of shoes I would love to have in my closet. :) 

Accessories

My favorite ways to accessorize are to add a scarf, belt, or some elaborate earrings. (I really like long feathery ones, or elegant jeweled ones). Personally, I think shoes are an accessory of their own. One pair of statement shoes can make a look either fabulous or terrible. But aside from that, adding a cardigan and a belt at your waist can transform an outfit. Or a pair of earrings that tie in the colors. Or maybe a nice scarf that compliments your shoes. Accessories are like the icing on the cake - use them sparingly, and you will have excellent results. :)

Makeup

My go-to makeup look is a simple one. I don't wear concealer or foundation (I ought to change that though...). On my eyelids, I sweep a taupe-y brown, and define it with some black eyeliner, and a few layers of mascara. (eyeshadow is "Tapestry Taupe" by Covergirl, eyeliner is called "Stilletto", I believe, by some generic brand, and the mascara is Covergirl's Lashblast Clump Crusher {it comes in a fat, bright green tube}). On days when I'm feeling especially preppy, I'll wear a bit of Victoria's Secret's "Beauty Rush" strawberry lipgloss. On occasion, I'll switch the eyeshadow with a smokey eye look using one of E.L.F.'s eyeshadow kits. All in all, it's a very simple, clean, (hopefully) professional look. :)

I hope that was a help to you as you are developing your personal styles. Remember, you're never really done developing, so don't limit yourself. :)

Hugs,

~Bree Holloway

Who's Bree Holloway? She's a short little girl who loves life, and wants to enjoy it in every possible way. Photography, dancing, blog design, and writing are the main activities that inspire her, but that's just the tip of the iceberg. You can check out her blog, where she talks about writing, life, and occasionally tea. Or you could stop by her blog design shoppe, and pick up a fresh new look for your blog this spring. You might find her blurbing here and there on twitter, or pinning all manner of Pretty Things on Pinterest as well. But wherever you look, she'll probably have a cuppa coffee or a mug of tea swaddled in her hands, and a thick book of some sort tucked under her arm. 

World Traveler

......Recently I've come to crossroads with the reality of selfless love. The love that exists and goes on no matter what the cost to the love-er. The love that has no limit, that has no conditions, that is never in question. The courageous love that will go to the end of the world with no fear of heartbreak, rejection or being wrung out hard........

Excerpt of a guest post I did on Casey's blog. Read the rest of it right here

There are sooooo many things going on in my life right now, but toppest in my mind is our upcoming European excursion! We will be eating crepes at a cafe in Paris in 2 DAYSS!!!!! (haha, I wish!) No, but really---Rach and I are both about to split with excitement/nerves and will be good and ready to board a plane Friday evening. Our team will be gone from the 5th through the 19th and we would all appreciate prayers for safety, for effectiveness and for health while we are in Romania. I'm looking forward to all that God has in store for us with this experience and be assured that we'll tell you ALLLLLL about our time when we return!

And now I'm brought to a super exciting point of this post---in our absence I have lined up some guest posts from some *gorgeous* friends of mine! You guys are in for a HUGE treat. So make sure you come and stop by to peruse the charm! ;)

Thirdly, and lastly of all. I have an apology to make. Remember that brainchild of mine? The one I was so inspired for and promised to do weekly? (Pshhhh. yeah right.) Well, I don't blame you if you have forgotten about it entirely. For I had. Til like yesterday. :P Yep, it's a pretty awful thing on my part, but I'll just have to lay the matter aside for when I come back to the States. Just thought I'd update you on that. 

And now I leave with with a fun, whimsical, and inspiring song for you by the great Andrew Peterson:

La Reverdere!
Sarah