Dear Friends,

It is quiet in the house. Just a few months ago we were fighting for survival in the Social Centre Lazarus. The staff was overwhelmed, our charges didn't have a happy home. In the meantime, everything has been turned around. The older children help with the chores, they take turns as doorman, take care of small repairs, and go along on errands. We call them "assistants." I go into the dining hall; down to the last one, all the seats are taken. Our kitchen assistants, dressed in white shirts, rush around nimbly to serve the children tea, bread and marmalade. A soft murmur can be heard through the room, someone laughs and she is told to be quiet by a neighbour. We announce the program for the day: today we'll learn songs for lent; it is warm - we'll have sports in the afternoon, and in the evening there will be a film. There is clapping, everyone is happy about the Junglebook. With a grateful look at the Icon, they leave the room in a rush. "We kiss your hand for the food - enjoy!" Everything is lively and loud again, until everyone goes off to work and are separated into their groups.

The little ones have done some writing exercise in the classroom. They don't have much endurance, they have to go outside repeatedly. They run around the yard and play football. Inside, our custodians have been working on a pair of beds already for a few hours. The young man who does community service for us finally shows them how they need to put the pieces together and the work speeds up. Catalin comes back from the city, he has taken a few children with him who were begging at the train station. We stick them directly into the bath tub. Then their hair has to be cut because it is full of lice.

Evening prayer begins. Sorin has been here since yesterday. He cries - he wants to go back to his brother. They ran away from home, because their father beat them, and they lost each other along the way. One of the small children puts an arm around him. The children speak thanks and pray, "Dear Jesus, I ask you to bring Father Georg back to us as quickly as possible." The new Salomea, freshly bathed and hair cut short, asks out loud, "Who is that?" Prayer is interrupted. Everyone wants to explain. Ioan starts talking and tells about "our father." Father Georg went to Chişinău in the Republic of Moldavia in order to open a house for poor children. There is already an organisation, "CONCORDIA Moldavia." They speak Russian and, luckily, also Romanian. The country once belonged to Romania. Father Georg is coming back to us tomorrow.

After dinner, table football is played. Angelica stands next to me and curses the opposition. "A hump should grow on your back if you score a goal against Ruth!" She hears music from the foyer and her whole body begins to move. Her hand slides over her left arm elegantly and dances with scooping movements down to her stomach; then, smiling, she throws me a kiss. Everyone applauds and, in the meanwhile, some others also dance. Now it is time we get ready for the night. Sleeping bags and mattresses are given to all those who don't get a bed. While saying good night, all of the children's hands reach for me. Can I come to live in the children's house soon? Is Father Georg really coming tomorrow? I drew a picture for you today. And, for sure, everyone wants a good night kiss.

I go for a spell to the staff. We review the day with many questions: How can I become a good custodian? Could we take a cooking course? What should we do with the teenagers who have so much energy? Clearly, we need to do more for the training of our staff. The "CONCORDIA Academy" is this year's priority. Courses and supervision should improve the quality of our work. Our many young staff members are hungry for further education and training. Dear friends, can we build on your support?

Since "our Father" Georg went to Moldavia with two volunteers, we have become a bigger CONCORDIA family. We stick together, the problems here get smaller when we hear about the development of the new project. The parting wakes new powers and binds us more than ever. That reminds me of Easter and the resurrection. Dear friends, we wish you courage for farewells and departures which allow us to experience surprises.

Heartfelt greetings from all of us in Lazarus in Bucharest and from Father Georg in Chişinău!

Ruth Zenkert

Lent 2004