As the light of the day began to soften, I headed off, looking to walk the streets of Cluj Romania with a quiet voice and open heart, I knew I needed to have a few leu in my pocket. My map took me through alleys, across small meadows, and across two grassy walls with a trail almost carved into them. The old Communist-inspired buildings slowly morphed into a mix of traditional wooden structures, relatively newer homes and low-rise office buildings.
With the late hour, all money exchanges were closed. Given the walk’s intensity and resulting light sweat, I was carrying my jacket over my arm. I was sure I had transferred anything valuable to my other pockets, so my wondering walk reflected the same.
A small local bank had an open cash-machine, so I decided to duck inside and try my luck with my bank card. As I began the process of finding a screen in English, the door I had just come through made its unique sound.
I turned to look, half in fear and half with curiosity as to who would join me.
It was an older lady, well dressed, slightly bent with the passing of time and the burdens which often come with living. She looked at me, with eyes of kindness but not much else. She said something in Romanian and tried to hand me a card.
I looked at her, trying to imagine who she was and what she was doing. “No thank-you,” and I turned away.
With words and a gesture of frustration, she left the card on the window ledge and turned back through the door. With leus in my pocket, I turned to leave, checking to see that I had everything. I did, except for my hotel room key.
It was sitting right where the lady of God had left it. “God, dear Lord, I only have eyes for you. Since I’ve run for dear life to you, take good care of me,” (Psalm 141.8) even when I do not see you or accept your offer of help.
