November 9, 2008: Never Forget

Dear Friend,

Apple pie greeted us in the morning. So did noodles and cabbage, the healthy part of breakfast, but what Andrew and I had smelled last night was the apple pie that waited for us in the oven at the end of breakfast. It was baked in a pan and not a tin, was square and not round, but it was apple pie alright, or some distant Romanian cousin of apple pie. Coming from the perspective of two Midwest boys who have grown up with the ideology of the apple pie, we had great reverence for what we were partaking in this morning.

Andrew likes to talk. I’ve already established that, and also how much I appreciate how proactive he is about asking questions and, thereby, getting to know people. He was the one who was the most talkative on the way to Horezu. This morning we had another conversation, this time about theological topics, which tend to be his favorite. Breakfast ended up being a good half an hour, forty minute ordeal when all was said and done, said and eaten. I also have a new roommate for next semester, as he had asked this weekend. He didn’t have anywhere in mind to live, or who he’d live with, but I had my plans already laid out, so it just made sense. This way, I’ll be able to have endless theological discussions until the end of the semester. Andrew and I will change the world (ha!) It was a well spent breakfast.

Today was a work day for everyone. Yesterday I had helped them a little with their projects, which are workshops for improving the leadership skills of the volunteers leading the IMPACT groups in Lupeni. As I had already led a workshop, they wanted to use my experience. Today, though, was just finessing the outline. I read a little bit of Boal’s Aesthetics of the Oppressed, the final book I have to write a paper on for my directed study.

Chelsea, Anne, Hollyann, and I went to Mamma Mia’s for supper, a restaurant near the office I had only been to once. We managed to find a table for two situated in a corner of the non-smoking section. The non-smoking section is kind of a joke in Romania, as the smoking section happens to be just on the other side of the room. In an open space like that of Mamma Mia’s, the entire place might as well be for smoking. We grabbed two more chairs and squeezed ourselves cozily in the corner, ordered our food, and discussed the movie we’ll all watch tomorrow morning. I don’t have to watch it, but I’m in the area and have nothing else to do. Unfortunately, the movie is about abortion, so I’ll be ending my visit on a somewhat morbid note. The conversation, therefore, was quite serious.

Anne, Hollyann, and I spent a bit more time in the restaurant than Chelsea. She had to contact some people back home using Skype, an instrument I have not yet learned how to use. The three of us continued our ongoing conversation about the impending end of our semester abroad. Each of us expressed concerns mainly about our return to the States, as opposed to our leaving Romania. Reintegrating ourselves into home, into Northwestern, even into our families gives us pause, as we’ve obviously just experienced a prolonged life-changing experience that everyone back home, arguably, hasn’t experienced. However, not only will we have to find a way to deal with not being able to explain to our loved ones – family, friends, professors, etc. – in such a way that they’ll understand that we’re not the same people we were when we left, but we’ll also have to cope with the realization that our loved ones aren’t the same as they were when we left. Arguably, we’ve all encountered some life-changing experiences. Ours, it can be argued, have just been more heightened and isolated because of our circumstances.

We also don’t want to forget, which probably was the greatest concern we shared. We each confessed that, after we return, we’re afraid we’ll forget, or at least our concerns are such that they boil down to some form of forgetting. We don’t want to forget our time here. That was my greatest concern, that I’d return home and think that all I’d experienced in Romania was just another semester. I don’t want to forget, either what I experienced or what each experience meant. Each of us also expressed a desire to not forget the friendships we forged during our time here, primarily the friendships we forged with each other. We’ll all be busy when we get back, but we wanted our friendships to be such that we could call each other up and hang out, even just for the heck of it. So often, groups like these are formed and they decide they all want to be friends. However, after the group has broken up, none of them proactively maintain their friendships. It’s not necessarily a sin, but it’s sad, and Anne, Hollyann, and I shared tonight our desires to proactively remain friends after our return. Here’s hoping that may happen for each of us.

I leave tomorrow, and I don’t want to think about it. I really love Lupeni and I’m going to miss my friends. Granted, there are only three weeks left, but with all the adjustments I’ve had to make in the past months, I’m beginning to feel, in some regard, what could be an adult’s understanding of how the world of relationships is composed of a lot of hellos and goodbyes, both seemingly happening soon after each other more and more the older you get. As I grow and mature, more of my friends move father away, and my goodbyes become much more frequent. Soon I’ll graduate, and what will that mean? Maybe my separation in the city is, in some way, preparing me for that time. Whatever the reasons may be for any of this, the bittersweet and aching feeling is one I’m not entirely satisfied with, but one I know I’ll have to learn to cope with. Maybe this is the longing for the kingdom of heaven that Paul mentions in his letters. A longing for shalom.

Blessings.
Kailen