Romanian Style

(all photos courtesy of Amy Edmonston, Daniel Tate, and Matthew Walker)

eShakti Product Review

Please check out these posts on Rachel's blog for more Romania talk! :)



This spring eShakti contacted me regarding another product review for their new line of clothing. Needless to say, I was very excited, and had a very hard time picking which dress I would choose to review. Some of my favorites were:

Green poplin

Bowtie sheath dress in mint

Sailor Poplin 

See? Aren't they adorable?! This is why my choice was difficult. But in the end, and all things considered, I was really attracted to this one:

Yellow dotted cotton

I loved the springiness of it, and yellow is one of my favorite colors, so this was my choice. :)

eShakti was encouraging customization, so I decided to add short sleeves to this dress. The ordering was so easy and eShakti is always so great to work with. 

When the dress came, I was so excited, and immediately tried it on. As I expected, the dress fit perfectly, and was so comfortable!!!! Everything that I've gotten from eShakti is so well made and I really appreciate the customer service over there.

This dress makes me happy every time I look at it and I'm looking forward to wearing it throughout the summer! :) Thank you eShakti!

So, now is your time to hop over to their site and consider purchasing a beautiful and modest dress for your summer events! 

-Sarah

Romanian Adventures Part 2.

I'm going to start categorizing so we can get through this in some semblance of order! Today will be the churches! :)

One of the first churches we went to was a Gyspy church. This was the church with the kids that stole my heart. :) 

I loved the kids at the other churches too, but there was something about this group of kids that got at me; maybe because I had more time with them than some of the other groups... I'm afraid I caused a rumpus and taught them wild hand-games and made them far too loud....but it was all in good fun, and they loved it as much as I did. Besides--hand-games like thumb-wars, and the slapping game and Down-By-The-Banks--don't require much translation, which was a boon as I didn't want to bother Cristi and they didn't speak much English. :) 

This was also the church where Matthew earned the nickname "Justin Bieber". Every tween-aged girl in that church wanted their picture taken with him...and only him. Cristi and I came up with the nickname almost simultaneously, and it stuck for the rest of the trip! Here is the evidence of that night:

Hahahahaha. Oh m'gooooodness. We had so much fun teasing Bieber about that night!

The churches we were working with (and staying with) are Baptist churches, and I found the depth of passion for Christ in these places extremely inspiring/challenging. It isn't easy not being Orthodox, as the Orthodox church is the one that the government supports, yet the believers in these churches are so joyful and faithful...some of the most courageous people I have ever met. 

We were staying in apartments in Pastor John's own church, which was really neat. It's a huge echoing building all built of tile and cement and glass (they don't believe in wood construction because they don't last long enough) so we would go stand at the very top floor and sing down the stairwell. Our favorites were "The Misty Mountain Song" and "Pentatonix: Somebody that I Used to Know". Such fun. We even got some of the songs on recording, which is pretty neat. The guys loved to play around with photography on the various levels of the church building in the evenings! They are really good with the cameras and effects if I do say so myself. (Credit for all these photos is going to Daphne Edmonston, Daniel Tate, Matthew, and Justin Wright.)

Arad was a beautiful city in it's quiet, patient, turbulent, long-suffering way. :)

Each night we would visit a village church. (if we weren't at Bethel) Some were near to Arad, others we had to drive a distance. I think we visited 7 different churches, all told, some more than once. We made lots of friends this way, and I loved going around to all the different towns! That is one thing you don't usually get to do. The people were so hospitable, and always prepared a meal for us and served us: they wouldn't let us help them do a thing. So sweet. At one village we even got to eat in the mayor's office...Christi enjoyed his momentary prestige. ;)

          

I enjoyed every village for a different reason...some for their natural beauty, like Cladova, others for the people we met. :) The last several churches we visited were overseen by the same deacon, so we got to know he and his family a bit. His daughter is an Audrey Hepburn lookalike, I think! :)

Her name is Bianca, and she speaks far better English than she gives herself credit for, and she's an excellent translator! Actually, her voice is so nice and clear that I found myself often thinking she'd be perfect for a How to Learn Romanian computer program. :D Wow...me and my mind. 

Christi or Pastor John would start off the services with a prayer and a bit of speaking, then they would pass the torch off to us, and we'd do songs and testimonies for the next hour or so. :) It became a daily challenge to try to remember which songs we'd done at which churches, trying not to repeat ourselves too often. At the churches where we did two services, we sometimes had to rearrange so the same group of people wouldn't have to hear the same songs twice. :D It was definitely a mind-game, and toward the end we stopped caring. ;) After all, poor Christi had to translate many of the same testimonies/ mini-sermons over and over. Actually, it was a funny sensation, having the opportunity to retell the same stories of God's faithfulness in my life over and over...I tried to word things differently each time, and ended up gathering several testimonies to rotate so the whole team wouldn't die of boredom. :D 

Christi liked to make us laugh in the middle of services (or would accidentally do so) so we all learned when it was safe or perilous to look at him up there at the pulpit. Once or twice he would be listening to us and translating, and we'd give a spin to our story that he wasn't expecting, and he'd bust into laughter... like the time I used the same opening I had been using for my usual testimony, but launched into a story of God healing my terrible temper as a kid...he gave me this brief, hilarious, befuddled look and then busted out laughing. :D Thankfully it was just a children's service in a tiny church so no one minded. :D

Ahhh....good times. Good times.

All right, then. There you have a post about the various churches. Stay tuned for tomorrow's post about Touristy-Things! :)

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.