It was in the middle of the night in the winter of 1995 when Laurenziu brought two shivering little boys into our Social Centre at the train station in Bucharest. The Romanian Minister of Transportation had allowed us to use the building - in the hope that the street children would disappear. They presented a poor image; there were unpleasant encounters with travellers. And he wanted to provide some help for the children. Then the little boys, five or six years old, were standing shyly in front of me. Their dark eyes were fixed. What would happen now? They did not want anything to eat. We wrapped them in blankets like all the others who were already lying there asleep. Some of the others twitched in their sleep, they were probably having bad dreams. Others were startled when the new boys came in. I will never forget the nights in the Social Centre: the smell, the whining sound of the children's voices and the dark eyes that peered out from beneath the grey military blankets.

The next morning a helper, Birgit, came to pick up the new arrivals Cristi and Ionuz and she brought them to St. Paul's Children's Home. A warm shower softened the dirt and something also relaxed in the souls of the children. Ionuz began to talk. They had run away from home in the darkness - a home where the drunken father and mother often hit them. All four of them lived in a small room and they were always afraid. Ionuz waited until he could read. Then he took his little brother by the hand and they ran until the train station. For a long time they travelled with the train until it stopped and everyone departed. They found the waiting room, which was filled with a lot of people. Teenagers passed plastic bags around and frightened them. They hoped they wouldn't have to breath in and inhale. The waiting room was the only heated room and they found a place on the floor near the heater. This is where they were crouched when Laurenziu found them.

Ionuz spoke and spoke, little Cristi however didn't come out of the bathroom. When the assistant checked on him she saw that he was rubbing his arm with the hard scrub brush for the floor. His arms were black and should become light like his brother's. Christi was a "brown brother" as Roma are often called in Romania. "You should not say gypsy any more," said Cristi laughing and he showed his dark arms. He remembered how the fear of being hit came to him in the night.

Thirteen years later Cristi passed his university entrance exams with honour. He stands by his brother who is difficult and only with great difficulty gets jobs in unskilled labour. It took five years before the boys were ready to travel home one time with accompaniment. Their mother had given birth to one more child after them, but the little girl didn't have enough to eat. So the boys brought Cornelia with them to St. Paul's. They never saw their father again. "I don't think he ever asked about us," says Cristi.

Cristi has a beautiful light voice. When guests are there he likes to sing the song, "True friendship should not falter." At his graduation party he gave me a letter with his prayer: "I thank God for the lucky day Concordia took me in, for all of my friends whom I have come to know here. For having been raised properly. For Father Georg and Ruth. For my friends Stefanie, Nico and her six children. For the music and the trips which we have taken. That I was able to learn German. Dear God, I thank you I was able to pass the university entrance exams."

For Cristi and our older children we are building group flats in which they can live independently. They will learn a trade or study. Dear friends, please help us with this project of hope.

Ionuz and Cristi ran away in the middle of the night. This became for them the night of deliverance. With Cristi we chose the motto for the new year. And it was night (John 13,30) as Jesus stood up from the meal and went out to the Mount of Olives in order to do the work of deliverance. This night became the night of deliverance for all who allow themselves to be led by Jesus. "The middle of the night is the beginning of the day. The middle of great need is the beginning of the light," is sung in an old church hymn. No one has ever made me as happy as a street child who became a child of hope. I would like to share this joy with you, dear friends, because we thank you for much light.

I wish you a new school year with much light through your children and their children.

Father Georg Sporschill, SJ

Our motto: And it was night.

Bucharest, Sommer 2008