WHY ME?
Have you ever had this question go through your mind? Recently I had to opportunity to help out a little gypsy girl two days in a row. I don’t know her name, but I have seen her around town off and on since I moved to Uzhgorod. She was a young child begging on the streets when I first saw her. I remember her face well, because she has these beautiful sea blue/green eyes. This time when I saw her she was carrying a baby. I asked her if the baby was hers and she said yes. Then I asked "How old are you?" Her answer shocked me, "sixteen". She also told me that the baby is a year and four months old, one month younger than my Jake. She then proceeded to tell me how she and her husband had had a fight and she left.
She now lives on the streets and the two of them sleep at different stations (train, bus, whatever is open). I helped her buy some medicine for her baby who had the chicken pox and something to eat. The next day I ran into her again. She told me that her mom had thrown her out because she doesn’t want the baby around. Her mom (grandma) had told her to ditch the baby. She said that she doesn’t want to that. "He is mine" she said as so looked at him. She also told me that she wants to travel to another city to see her dad. My dad loves the baby and will take us in. So again I gave her a little money, almost nothing and wished her the best. In these situations I feel so helpless. Why me? What can I do to help her? Does my small contribution help her overall situation?
Let me paint a picture for you of what life might look like for a gypsy. The culture is cruel and binding (meaning that if you are born into it, it is difficult to get out). Education has no value and most gypsies do not finish school. The few young women that do finish have no chance to get further education, because their families won’t allow them to leave. Girls get married starting at age 14 and start having children immediately (there is no education nor money for contraception). Alcoholism, adultery and abuse seem to be woven into the culture. Most gypsies live in a gypsy village, meaning broken down shacks and no running water or sewer. There are not many jobs available for them. The orange coated army that sweeps the streets in the morning is mostly gypsies. Other than that I have seen them selling handmade wooden spoons or clothing at the bazaars. Gypsies have a reputation of being dirty (and they are because of where they live) and thieves (not necessarily true but a sterotype labeled on them). Ukrainians for these two reasons greatly dislike them and so there is discrimination against them.
Why was I born an American and this little girl a gypsy? Why was I so blessed? It is a hard question to answer….. God knows what he is doing. He has just as much a plan for this little girl as he does for me. So, I guess all I can do is be faithful to use what He has given me to help others, be His hands and feet to reach out to those less fortunate. I think that is all He is asking of us. Our responsibility is to respond.
I have to add… When gypsies get saved they are so different. It is like night and day. And going to a gypsy church is a party you will never forget!!! God can pull each of us out of the pit and He does it everyday!!
"He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear and put their trust in the Lord." Psalm 40:2,3
