Tuesday, August 7, 2012

The Least of My Brethren

I've expressed my frustration at times with a basic lack of civility in Romania, at least in Bucharest. It isn't, for instance, uncommon here to see someone take a long final drag off a cigarette, throw it on the ground, step on the bus, doors close behind her, and then exhale. It baffles me every time I see it. I wish I could say it was rare. It's not. I saw it yesterday. And until Romanians themselves stand up en masse and claim for themselves a country not ruled by thugs, these things will not change. 

But today I twice saw acts of Charity that brought tears to my eyes.

I was in a pedestrian crossing beneath a major fare. And old lady was struggling with a heavy cart. One step after one step she was struggling up several dozen more. I began walking toward her to help. I've so sadly seen old ladies in this circumstance ignored. Not today. Two people appeared, both offering to carry her cart up for her. A woman carried it up and waited for her until she emerged at the surface.

That alone made me feel better about the state of humanity.

Today we hit 42 Celsius in Bucharest. That's 107 Fahrenheit. That's hot.

I'm standing at a Tram stop. There's a derelict resting in the shade of a tree. They're everywhere in Bucharest, I'm not going to lie. He's holding an empty glass. 

I see an elegantly dressed business woman. She's taking a drink off a bottle of water she's just bought at a nearby vendor. She walks over and fills the derelict's glass from her bottle. 

He drinks the water and slurs what I barely understand as a thank you.

Both of these people served Christ today. They served Him in the person of the Least of His Brethren.

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