I’ve had plans
Shattered and broken
Things I have hoped in
Fall through my hands
You have plans
To redeem and restore me
You’re behind and before me
Oh, help me believe
God You don’t need me
But somehow You want me
Oh, how You love me
Somehow that frees me
To take my hands off of my life
And the way it should go…
Excerpt from “Control” (Somehow you want me) by Tenth Avenue North
Introduction/Foreword:
Our lives are filled with decisions, but only about two are three that are life altering. One of those is the decision of marriage, and having seen so much brokenness around me, I knew not to take this lightly. I knew that whoever would walk this journey of life alongside me would have to be someone who believed as I do since my faith takes priority in my life. When I initially thought I found “the one”, I prayed that God would bless my decision, but ultimately learned that my plans were shortsighted. Thankfully, He can take our messes and make something beautiful out of them, but it reminds me of the proverb, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, do not depend on your own understanding; seek His will in all you do and he will show you which path to take”. Looking back now, I love seeing the creative way this played out in my life as just another broken person who’s trying to find her way through all of life’s twists and turns. I’ve just chosen to embrace it all as one big adventure.
Part I
When I was a young teen, I found myself attracted to older men. At 14, a young man 6 years my senior took interest in me. This was rather exciting, considering I was in high school. This budding relationship fizzled quickly because it was a bit too uncomfortable, and his maturity rivaled mine considerably. Other young men I thought were ideal came and went. Some, I’d later learn, wanted to play the field and reserved a relationship with me for a later time once they considered settling down. I found that downright offensive….like I’d be expected to wait on the sidelines for them until they were ready to get serious about marriage.
At 18, I found myself in a relationship with a man 9 years my senior. This, in-and-of-itself was flattering. I find that many young women consider it exciting to have someone older take interest in them. Unfortunately, this relationship would prove to have some serious flaws. For one thing, he wasn’t very social. I was just beginning to flutter my wings, and I found myself enjoying the company of other adults, conversing and getting to know people. Meanwhile, he seemed to have been content living an invisible life, one far more introverted than I expected. I began noticing some controlling behaviors that at the time seemed protective and even flattering. In hindsight, I have to wonder what I found exciting about those behaviors, but I know his level of interest in me was intoxicating. He would show up and surprise me at my workplace; sometimes after the workday was over, sometimes during my lunch hour. He knew my faith was important to me, so he attended church with me for the duration of our relationship. Eventually, he proposed marriage and I was ecstatic! Marriage! Not necessarily to the man of my dreams, but marriage nonetheless. Someone really cared for me enough to consider spending the rest of his life with me. Of course, there were other young men on my radar who piqued my interest, but the feeling turned out not to be reciprocated, and that always turned into a painful realization. This man, however, wanted me for life, but I’d learn it wasn’t in the the level of love and concern I expected. In our search for wedding rings, I soon realized that we couldn’t find a diamond small enough for him to be willing to spend money on. I’m not a diamond lover, but began realizing that in his eyes, my value was based, in large part, on the fact that I was generally low maintenance. I didn’t wear expensive clothes, didn’t desire pricey jewelry, my nails were never done, and I really didn’t enjoy shopping! It turned out, he not only appreciated these things, but expected them. I soon realized how cheap he made me feel. But this guy thought I was “wife” material. He was right. I was. Unfortunately, husband material, he was not.
On our final evening together, he really opened up to me. He explained his drinking habits, and while these days I enjoy a glass of wine myself, he told me that his weekends were spent downing an entire case of beer. He showed no concern for how I might react to such a revelation. I recall an earlier conversation where he explained that he would rather starve than go shopping more than once a week. Ironically, these days I visit a local grocery store upwards of three times per week for those incidentals that seem to run out unexpectedly. I still envy those moms who have planned meals and can pull dinners off with ease. However, the things he said to me stayed in my mind since I got the feeling that his intention was to set some boundaries. I began realizing that he was, in fact, establishing a level of control. Another part of our conversation that last evening revealed to me exactly who this person was. He managed to cross a line with me from which there was no turning back. He said some things to me that made me realize that he truly didn’t value me.
Once I was home and in my room, I spent some time thinking about my future, and spent a large chunk of time on my knees. For years, I prayed about my future husband. I wasn’t looking for a man with good looks or wealth. I was looking for someone who loved and valued me. Like many girls, my role model was my dad. A hard working, simple man who did his best to live out his faith. That’s it. That’s what I wanted. As I evaluated this relationship, I knew my Heavenly Father couldn’t possibly have had this mess in mind for me. No daddy gifts their daughter with someone that devalues her, I knew that my Heavenly Father would never gift me with a spouse who considers me as less than the perfect creation He designed. No, not perfect in the way we humans view perfection, but perfect by His design. There was no reason for me to try to justify or look past his behavior; in fact, if I did, then I’d be to blame for future heartache. After an incredibly sleepless night, I made the difficult phone call that following morning. It was almost a year later that I’d meet the man who would become my husband.
Part II
Summer 1992
My hometown is called Biharpüspöki. It’s a small town outside of Nagyvárad in Oradea, Romania. This region was all part of Transylvania, which was still Hungarian, regardless of the change in borders years prior. We lived walking distance from the border with Hungary, a place seared into my memory as a place to fear. A train station marked the area closest to the border, and we heard many horror stories of fugitives captured while trying to flee the communist country’s oppressive government to Hungary.
Lajos (“Louis”) grew up only a few miles from my home in a small town called Hegyközszáldobágy. (By now, all these towns’ Hungarian names were changed to Romanian ones.) This small town was the home to less than 1,000 residents on about 7 streets. It’s a beautiful, picturesque hillside town with a small elementary school, two churches, a small grocery store and a tiny bar. The East and North sides of the town were bordered by impressively, deep, dense woods, which provided a constant supply of firewood for surrounding towns. These woods were the source of a lifetime of sweet memories for children who lived nearby. Many days were spent playing and exploring with friends and family. It also served as a source of food, including mushrooms, multiple types of berries and fruits, and even helped the towns’ families financially as they gathered plants and flowers to sell at market with the flowers they grew themselves. Because of the ban on weapons, hunting was not a part of their lifestyle, as only one person was issued a gun by the local government, and that was to deal with the occasional threat of wild animals. This individual was responsible for this town and a few other nearby ones.
Lajos’ paternal grandparents lived a short distance from his home towards the town’s hilltop. Looking around the region from their garden, one could see most of the town, including the church steeples and the abundant gardens and vineyards, many of which were connected. The placement of their house near the peak of the town’s hill meant hours of sledding fun in the middle of the street, during snowy winters. Because Lajos’ aunt married my uncle, our families would occasionally visit. It was always an adventure when our families would gather. Not only did we have new places to discover, but amazing meals to savor. His grandfather was amazing at his craft of making mouthwatering pork sausages, hams and other delicacies he seemed to have a unique knack for.
Lajos and I have snippets of memories playing together as children, but nothing meaningful. In fact, the one distinct memory I had of him was not a good one. It was when our family embarked on our final visit to his town in 1980 to say our farewells before immigrating to the States. The steep hill and rough roads meant that busses had a difficult and often impossible time of traveling to the peak of Száldobágy, where they lived. Once we reached the final stop that the bus would travel to, we exited and were preparing to walk the rest of the way to his grandparents’ house. By sheer happenstance, he walked down the street as we were making our way up. He graciously greeted my family as soon as he recognized us; he greeted everyone individually: my mom, dad, older and baby brother…and then he was done. He completely ignored me! It was worse than being the last one selected for the playground kickball game. I wasn’t even selected! It was the only specific memory of him from my childhood, and I was completely hurt. It’s something I’d discuss with him years later, but of course, he has no recollection of it.
As children in this small town grew older, they had to make their way to the schools located in the city of Nagy Várad. This transition was rather difficult for those that had to make it since it was a sudden change from an exclusively Hungarian schooling to an exclusively Romanian one. However, children adapt quickly, and learning the new language comes easier at a younger age. Of course, it’s very difficult to comprehend that discrimination was very real in many ways towards these Hungarian children. Romanian teachers were not known for being patient with students who were not fluent in their language, regardless of the reason. Additionally, bussing was sporadic, which made the commute difficult for these young students. Arriving on time was often impossible, but tardiness was not well tolerated, and when that was the case, corporal punishment was inevitable.
For students during that time, from the 8th grade moving forward, a decision had to be made whether they pursued a college career or a vocational career alongside their high school studies. Alternatively, students had the option to end their schooling at the 10th grade. Lajos pursued the tool and die trade and became certified. As the end of 12th grade neared, he knew he didn’t want to live in that country long-term, and made up his mind that he wanted a better future for himself and his future family; one that was not afforded to him in this country. In the fall of 1989, Lajos fled Romania’s closed borders for Hungary when an opportunity arose for him to do so. He knew the grave consequences of his decision, both to him and his family. As a defector, he would no longer be able to return for visits with his family without the fear of being captured. The few times he did, he regretted the decision. Among the townspeople were those who were willing spies for the government. At one visit, he had to be rushed to a friend’s home away from this family’s home during the night in order to evade capture. Thankfully, his family had friends looking out for them and when they heard that local authorities were looking for him, they warned them immediately.
Living on his own in Hungary was no easy task. With no immediate family to support him at the age of 18, life taught him self-sufficiency quickly. Working 80-100 hour weeks was the norm for this single young man to support himself and establish some type of future in this new country. He yearned to spend time with his family whenever he could because loneliness set in, especially around holidays.
He was fortunate enough to have landed work with family friends in the small town of Szentendre, outside of Budapest, a family from the same community he left behind. He rented a room above the small grocery store where he worked and helped maintain the business with another young man with whom he became fast friends. Because of the amount of time spent working and socializing together, they all grew quite close, and developed a pseudo family relationship. They also attended the same small community Baptist church where Lajos would eventually become baptized. He was a young Christian, and life would teach him many lessons, but little did he know the providence that would follow his life.
By now, the revolution of 1989 had taken place in Romania, so the borders were considered “open”, and people were able to travel more freely across the border. During the hot summer of 1992, he and some friends took a work break and traveled by train to vacation on the Black Sea, a summer destination for many families. His family had visited once when he was 3 years old, and he had fond memories that drew him back there. Although he could technically travel freely through Romania by now, he knew better than to trust this new government, considering he left illegally. However, he missed his family desperately, and on his return trip, a Friday evening, he decided to get off the train a few stops early near the border train station in Biharpüspöki to make a quick visit to see his family. It was one of only two visits home in the 3 years he left. It was going to be a quick weekend visit and he would return to Hungary on Sunday. This stop on his journey would change the course of his life, and mine.
Part III
During the summer of 1992, my family finally returned for a visit to our hometowns in Transylvania, Romania. As an 18 year old, I was thrilled to go visit the places I haven’t seen in over a decade, and visit the relatives I remembered as a young girl. However, as the adults chatted incessantly to catch up, my brothers and I quickly found ourselves bored out of our minds just a few days into this trip. Our entire vacation was 3 weeks long, and it was not a relaxing one. In addition to catching up with everyone, we visited some of the places we only heard about. Transylvania is a beautiful country with a rich history. We visited a number of the historically Hungarian towns and marveled at the varied versions of our culture. One of the most memorable of those was the region known as Székelyföld. The craftsmen of this region are well-known for hand-carving intricate gates, doorways and arches that looked like something right out of a fairytale. It was something I pictured bringing to the States and including in my future home’s décor, since it seemed such a waste to leave such intricate woodwork outside in the elements! Yet, just about every house had one of these marvelous doorways. Although the people of this region all speak Hungarian, even we had to listen intently as they talked because the dialect was so foreign to us; almost like when we go down to the southern States and the accents are something to get accustomed to, or the way British English differs from our American speech. But I digress….
Of course, many friends and relatives assumed that I was there hoping to meet someone special during this quick trip to our homeland. They didn’t know that I wasn’t ready to embark on a relationship after that last fiasco, now almost a year prior. I felt like I still needed time to heal, and I certainly didn’t want to bring such heavy baggage into a new relationship; it just didn’t seem fair to do so. In all honestly, I was terrified to get it wrong again, to make a huge mistake, to ruin my life and that of another person, not to mention, bringing this new person into my family. Plus, I was still young! I was in no rush to settle down yet, and still hadn’t decided on what my career would end up being. My entire future was before me, things were once again simple and innocent, and I loved it!
It was our last night in Transylvania, a warm Friday evening and we were preparing to leave for Hungary the next day. We would spend a day and a half in Hungary before we flew back to Cleveland. We were enjoying our final dinner with the gracious friends who hosted us, and our conversations were stretching late into the evening. I had showered by now, and my permed hair resembled the wool of a wet sheep. I put on a pair of loose pajamas my father gifted me with a number of years prior which were not necessarily attractive, but comfortable for lounging on this casual evening.
By now, it was completely dark outside and I was ready to catch some get some sleep when we heard the dog barking in the yard. That’s not unusual since foot traffic was not uncommon in this small town, and with everyone raising livestock, there was always some type of action to bark at. However, his bark wasn’t quieting down, in fact, he was clearly getting increasingly excited. Finally, my friend went to the door to check what was happening outside. She retreated from the door and with unabashed surprise, announced that Lajos was there.
What? My mind began to race. First of all, I am not interested in seeing this guy in the least bit. Second, if I’d allow him to see me, I’d want him to see me at my best, and this evening, my “best” was nowhere to be found. By now, I heartily regretted the ridiculous pajamas I was wearing. I never hated them so much until that moment. I told my parents I was going to bed. I quickly stood to leave the table, but I was too late. He stepped into the house, and I froze. This was not the image I had in my head. He did not resemble the awkward person I had envisioned, and I immediately regretted everything from my hair, to my lack of wearing make-up, and of course, by now, what I considered to be my absurd PJ’s! I had to sit right down just to keep him from seeing me in my full glory, or obvious lack thereof. He was perfect! Handsome, well dressed, and when he spoke, my heart raced. His face lit up at seeing us all, and he took his time to walk over and say hello to everyone individually around the table. Sitting at the far end, I was the last person he would make his way to. He smiled as he looked at me and this time, said hello. I wasn’t left out like I was at our last meeting as children. Of course, I melted into a frustrating puddle. I knew he would notice my face blushing into various shades of red, and that completely frustrated me.
You see, about five years prior, Lajos made contact with me. Members of our families would mail letters and pictures in order to stay in touch, and since his paternal grandmother had immigrated to the States a few years prior, she would correspond on a regular basis. One fateful day, she included a photo of me as a bridesmaid in a friend’s wedding, wearing a long, peach colored dress. Of course, I was completely unaware. Lajos happened to see the pic at some point and apparently, I piqued his interest. He eventually tried to correspond with me, but because he didn’t have my address, he included a sealed envelope in a letter his mom was already mailing. When it was received here, his family members were all obliged to open and read this first penned note before it finally made its way to my hands. I was completely embarrassed by this gesture. First of all, I found it embarrassing that he wrote; second, that most of his family here read it; and third, that he would even think he could strike up a relationship with someone on the other side of the world who was by now a complete stranger to him, and to whom he didn’t bother saying hello to when we last met! Oh yes, I held onto that last memory with fervor. We corresponded for a few months, but it fizzled quickly since my heart was simply not in it. The pictures he sent of himself certainly did not appeal to me; in fact, they had quite the opposite effect. I finally asked him to stop writing because this relationship was never going to materialize. Now, years later, on this same visit to Transylvania, we ran into his father at the local market, and I was so incredibly relieved to hear him explain that Lajos was of town, vacationing on the Black Sea. Hearing that completely made my day. Thank goodness, I thought. I don’t have to face this person and experience the awkwardness that I knew I was inevitable.
Yet, here I was, sitting at the table, stewing in frustration. To make things worse, he had the audacity to sit down right across from me! Who does this guy think he is, to assume I’d even be interested in talking to him after I clearly rejected him years prior? My pride was actually trying to resist the feelings stirring in my heart. I tried to speak to him as nonchalantly as I could, knowing the color in my face was betraying me. Everything we talked about was the epitome of small talk. He didn’t utter a word about our correspondences years earlier, and I was glad for it. Whatever he asked about me and my life now was suddenly flattering, and I knew that every time we made eye contact, my cheeks turned a darker shade of red. That, I found incredibly annoying. I couldn’t let this guy think I regretted my decision to reject him the way I did. I had far too much pride to acknowledge that.
Soon, it was time for him to leave. He stood and said his goodbye’s and said he would also be returning to Hungary after spending another day or so with his family there. Of course, that meant that there was no chance of us meeting again before our return flight. By now, I found that oddly disappointing. Of course, this also frustrated me. Why in the world would I think about wanting to run into this guy again? I live on the other side of the world, and I’ve already rejected him! That night, my mind and heart raced. I couldn’t believe the feelings and thoughts that overcame me. It was the first time I ever felt my heart ache this way, at knowing clearly that I blew it. I may have had a relationship with this person, and I threw it away like so much trash. I knew I would never initiate a relationship with a man, and knowing that I’d be returning to the States and never seeing this person again caused me to lose several hours of sleep that night. Why did he even have to come by? How did he know we were in town, or where we were staying? I’d later learn that once he made his way home to see his parents, they immediately explained that we were there, and requested that he go visit us that evening, knowing we would be gone the next day. He was quite reluctant to come visit, it was already late in the evening, and he barely knew the area of the town where we were. Plus, how awkward, and how would he explain why he came by? But he had nothing to lose, and it was an opportunity to see my family after so many years, so he came.
The next morning was spent packing up our belongings, and we were trying to quickly get on the road to Hungary in our rented minivan. When I walked into the room where my father was standing, he began to hum the tune of the bridal march. I completely rejected this nonsense and brushed it off, but I could tell he saw past my words. He knew. My dad could always read me, and I didn’t have him fooled for a minute. And, of course, I found this frustrating as well. By now, the number of things that frustrated me was reaching epic levels.
Part IV
Once we returned to the States, I returned to work and life was status quo once again. The vacation we took was completely exhausting, and emotionally draining. Of course, the latter was due to my chance meeting with Lajos. I tried my best to forget about him and our meeting. There was simply no chance at all that we would ever strike up a relationship. I didn’t believe girls should initiate relationships with young men, and since I rejected him years before, I knew he wouldn’t try again. On very rare occasions, I’d hear something about him or his family in conversations with mutual relatives, and I did hear that he was baptized in the church he attended. Being that this was a priority for me in any relationship I’d consider pursuing, I suddenly felt the pangs of regret again.
For some reason, I found myself on rare occasions getting a sense that something was going to happen. One of my best friends climbed a tree when I was a teenager, and I told her that I would keep my small camera pointed at her because I knew she would fall. She was a young, avid climber and had no trouble climbing up this tree that was not a particularly challenging climb, but I still have the pictures of her as she came tumbling down. On another occasion, I visited my elderly neighbor who walked me over to her covered porch and sat into a bird’s nest style swing chair. The instant she sat down, I thought “that thing will come crashing down,” and I quickly tried to shake the thought out of my head, as if I would actually be able to cause it to happen. She was more shocked than I when the thing came crashing to the floor. She was fine, and quickly remarked that the swing was there for over 20 years and she couldn’t believe it fell! I’ve had other such encounters, but no, I do not believe I have a special gift for reading the future. However, I distinctly remember knowing that Lajos would be writing me a letter soon.
I was still living at home with my parents at 19, and it was about mid-November when I started calling my mom daily during my lunch hour to chat, and to secretly try to find out if anything came in the mail for me. Of course, this was before internet, cell phones and Skype. For the next few weeks, her answer to my question was always, “No, nothing came. Why?” I certainly wasn’t going to tell her. Then, it happened. For once, my mom called me at work. At first, I thought there was a problem and a tinge of fear shot through me. “You’ll never believe this, but you received a letter….from Lajos!” I could have jumped right out of my skin. My mind raced at a mile a minute, and I was quite literally ready to bolt from my workplace in downtown Cleveland and make my way home, but I resisted this and waited the painful hours until my bus dropped me off after work. It was a Christmas card and a short letter. My mom was certainly perplexed at my excitement about this correspondence. I read it so many times that I probably had it memorized. Lajos reached out to me one more time, apologetically of course, since he didn’t know if I’d simply reject him once again. I so appreciated his chivalry in putting his heart on the line with me one more time, and I knew this time I didn’t want to blow it. I spent the next day searching for the most beautiful Christmas card I could find and began writing my response. Of course, I knew by now that he would only receive it after the holidays since at the time overseas snail mail took 9 days.
My dad is a romantic at heart. I’m sure he knew what I was feeling and could appreciate what this young man was going through, so it should not have surprised me too much to know he’d try to make my Christmas extra special that year. Each year, I spent several hours locked up in my bedroom wrapping my gifts for everyone, and this morning of Christmas Eve was no different. I announced to everyone that I was locking myself in my bedroom upstairs and was not to be disturbed until I was done with my wrapping. A short time later, I heard my father calling my name from downstairs. I ignored it the first and second time and just responded that I was busy. But then my brother came knocking and when he did, I stormed over to my door to give him a piece Christmas cheer he’d never forget. Except as I tried to get my words out, he stopped me. “Lajos is on the phone.” I froze. What? How is that even possible? Once I swallowed my heart back into its place, I slowly made my way downstairs, mind spinning. “What’s going on…” I cautiously asked. My mom said, “Oh, your dad phoned the family Lajos is living with to wish them a Merry Christmas, and Lajos is there. He’d like to say hello!” Now, it wasn’t unheard of that my parents would chat with friends and relatives overseas occasionally around the Holidays, but we all knew this call was completely out of the ordinary. My dad wore his familiar smile, and I took the phone to embark on the most awkward conversation I would ever have in my life. It was short and clumsy, but by the time I hung up the phone, I knew this relationship was for keeps. It was indeed a very special Christmas.
Soon, we were writing our letters almost weekly. I sometimes didn’t know which letter he was responding to, and I occasionally found myself responding to two letters at the same time. Then, we began talking more on the phone. This was incredibly expensive in the early 1990s! We tried to call only on weekends, and at times that had the cheapest rates, but I found myself embarrassed to use my parents’ house phone because they would often just pay the bill and not inform me of how much it was! Very generous of them, but the guilt I experienced was overwhelming. So to relieve their burden, on some Saturday mornings, I drove into downtown Cleveland to my workplace and called him from there. This way, the bill would be deducted directly from my paycheck and no one would have to find out what this long-distance romance was costing me. My bi-weekly paycheck was sometimes in the single digits after my phone call deductions. This relationship was taking a significant toll on me financially.
But then, after nearly three months of this, he asked me to go to Hungary. He couldn’t easily come to the States for a visit anytime in the near future with the immigration laws in place, and the paperwork would take quite some time to process even if he did try. Being that members of his family were already stateside, he would likely be rejected. It only made sense that I would go visit him instead. However, I quickly rejected that notion. I was a single young woman, and was not going to travel overseas to visit a long-distance boyfriend. Who knows, it might not even work out, after all. Then I’d be out even more money from my already diminishing bank account! “No. I don’t want you to come visit me. I want you to come here to marry me.” My heart skipped a several beats. Once I found my words again, I tried to explain that I was completely unfamiliar with the process we’d have to embark on, and this was way too soon, anyway! His response was a simple, “it is? So you’re not sure about me?” Well, that caught me off-guard. I was sure about him, and about us. I just wasn’t sure I could afford everything that this would cost me. This conversation took place in my bedroom, and I had to lay on my bed for a few minutes after we said our goodbyes, to wrap my mind around what just happened.
Now, this relationship was one that only my immediate family and a close friend was somewhat aware of. I was reluctant to share news of my long-distance relationship with anyone. My relatives and friends had no idea I even had a man in my life. Because my prior relationship was such a visible one, I didn’t want to give anyone a new topic of conversation, and reasons for speculation. This was my little secret. However, now it was time to figure out what to do! I spent hours on the phone and days trying to collect the necessary paperwork for my nuptials. Lajos was still technically a citizen of Romania, now residing in Hungary, and I was an American citizen, but we both were wanting to be married in Hungary. In an ideal world, we would have returned to Romania for our legal marriage, but I promised him that there was no way I would return there with him, for fear that he might be arrested. We were told that this was not going to happen since the revolution of 1989, but there was no way I was trusting that government with my future. As long as the paperwork was in order, we were assured by the U.S. Consulate that being married in Hungary would not be an issue. Except for one major detail that there was simply no getting around. I needed my birth certificate, and I didn’t have it.
When we left Romania in 1980, one of the major obstacles that was dealt us was that the government prevented us from bringing with us any official documents, including our birth certificates. None of my family members had theirs, and it was no easy task to handle a number of legal matters in the States without them, but we managed all these years, to the point of even becoming American citizens. However, the time came when I absolutely had to have it. We’d need it to be married in Hungary, otherwise, it might take years for Lajos to even be able to come even for a visit! In weighing our options, I went as far as considering the option of moving there, but I knew that I wanted to give our future children the opportunities this country could afford them. For months, we were stuck on this one single issue. I would have to somehow get my hands on my birth certificate, which of course, was in Romania. I was a child when I left, and didn’t feel comfortable asking anyone for help, nor did I want to go into an uncertain situation and burden them with my presence for however long it would take to get my hands on this elusive document. Each day, I lay down in frustration at my predicament. I simply prayed and explained on multiple occasions to God that if He really wanted this marriage to happen, he’d simply have to figure this out for me.
It was June of 1992 when I sat at the kitchen table and my grandfather, who lived next door, stopped in. He was a happy-to-lucky, optimistic man with the most upbeat personality, but it was unusual for him to ask about our personal lives. However, on this day, he did. He inquired about the status of my relationship with Lajos (since he was one of the few people who knew by now). I explained the huge bind we were in since I didn’t have my birth certificate. “I have it!” he exclaimed. My heart jumped. What in the world was he talking about, I immediately wondered. I couldn’t ask him because by then, he was rushing out the door and back into their house next door. I asked my mom what he was talking about, but she also had no idea. A few minutes later, my grandfather returned, my birth certificate in-hand. I wouldn’t have been more stunned even if I had been looking at the Holy Grail itself. All the years we lived in the States, one of the most difficult things to deal with was the fact that this document was non-existent in my life….and I was staring right at it. “How in the world….?” Apparently, when my grandparents were packing up to come to the States, he collected any official documents he could, which included papers we left behind years before and hid them well in his luggage. He was willing to risk bringing these documents, since by now, the worst that could happen is they might be confiscated. They weren’t, and I had my green light. I could move forward with marrying my love. I couldn’t contain my excitement, so I went inside and called Lajos at the most unplanned and expensive time. However, being that it was the middle of the night there, he didn’t answer. So I called him from work the following day to tell him….and that week, I purchased my plane ticket.
Unexpected Journey 