“You’re going to be a father!” Sandale, full of happiness, startled me early one morning with this news. Her cap, always worn aslant, flew to the ground. I had come from Moldavia and had just stepped into the Lazarus Social Centre. Sandale pregnant – good news? Her boyfriend, like her, is not even twenty years old. Both of them live primarily on the streets; they come to Lazarus to wash, to eat, to catch up on sleep and when they are ill. And these two are going to be parents!

After the stormy greeting, I entered the chapel. Everyone was calm, only Sandale ranted because she couldn’t sit next to me. Two smaller children were already there. Both had grabbed onto me to secure their place. That made Sandale furious. How long will she endure being in the house? How long will the others endure being with her? What will happen to her child? These were my thoughts during morning prayer.

For months now, on Tuesday afternoons, mothers from the train station come to the house with their little children. Now there are thirty children who have children. Skin covered with sores, rashes, feverish faces – the medical assistant and our doctor have a lot to do. The mothers shower and get fresh clothes, the babies are bathed, examined, given fresh nappies. The warmth in “Servus”, the room for arrivals, and the milk and tea in many bottles calm the children. Sandale is in the middle with her cap and garish green shirt. I have never seen her like this. She was sometimes a help for us when she made fighting children laugh – but now she has become a mother.

She is exhausted and proud. But it wouldn’t be Sandale, if she didn’t have a surprise in stock. I have to go into the office with her. She opens the door without knocking. Ruth is not sitting there, but rather a small child in the big seat. “This is the new director!” Since mothers’ day was established, Antonio has come every week with his mother. She is still looking for a coat in the clothing depot, soon it will be cold.

We still have a long time to wait until a child becomes director here. But this is my hope. Upon leaving, Pampers and powdered milk, powder and cream are dispensed. The mothers take many bottles with them on their way to the train station. We can’t talk them into staying. The friends and fathers on the street are stronger and they all want their freedom. They don’t give up their children although they know it would be better. I understand why Ruth is pushing for the new project: a day station for the mothers from the train station. What happens on Tuesdays in the social centre must be possible every day.

For fourteen years, I celebrated Christmas with the children at the train station of Bucharest. Sandale and the most difficult teenagers were there. Last year, for the first time, the celebration took place in the “Sala Concordia”, our gymnasium which was still under construction. This year, all the mothers with their babies and also the teen gangs who spread fear on the streets will be warm in the festival hall. Christmas attracts them and gives them peace because everyone gets winter shoes and something to eat.

Dear friends! Please help us build the day centre for the mothers from the train station. On Christmas Eve the children look for shelter. All of us from CONCORDIA are connected to you. In great appreciation,

Yours,

Father Georg Sporschill, SJ

Bucharest, Advent 2006

The mothers from the train station.

“That is the new director!”