The apartment was very small, very dark, and the smell of moth balls was beyond pungent. As soon as we got inside, Florine and his sister brought me five pieces of blank white paper and asked me to sign my name at the bottom of each one. When I asked what they would do with them, they told me not to worry, they would fill in what needed to be done on the top part. I hesitated, knowing I could be giving them full control of our lives. I said a quick silent prayer, and this thought immediately came into my mind. “You’ve come this far, you’ve put your trust in Me, and this man you’ve never met before, Val Cocariu, is one of my trusted servants. Do what you are asked to do, everything will be ok.” I signed the papers. I never did find out what they were used for. When I asked where Val was, they told me he was working on another adoption in Suceava, (pronounced Soo-chava) a town in North-Eastern Romania near Val’s birthplace, and they weren’t sure when he would be back to help us.

We were told Val’s older brother Nic, Nic’s girlfriend Rodika, and her daughter Elena would be helping us until Val was finished with the other adoption. Turns out, we didn’t get to meet Val in person for a full week after we arrived in Romania. However, Nic, Rodika, and Elena were amazing and we bonded instantly with them.

Florine’s wife had soup ready for us, which proved to be a main staple in Romania. The ingredients were of questionable origin, but it was hot and I was hungry, and really sick. I prayed I would be able to keep it down.

We met with Florine's sister Anca and talked a lot about America, our church, and I gave her a Romanian copy of The Book of Mormon. She asked if I could get her a copy of the book to become a Dr. I asked her what book, and she said just the book. I told her there were buildings full of books on becoming a Dr. which was more than she could fathom. She begged us to sponsor her, and bring her back with us. The desperation was heart breaking. We later found out from another adoptive parent who stayed at this same apartment that this young woman was prostituting herself out in order to survive. Sadly, a common thing in Romania even to this day.

It seemed late, and feeling like I was going to pass out, asked to be excused. I went to the restroom, which had no light bulb. When I came back out, they had made a chair and ottoman into a bed for me with moth ball smelling sheets. Without going back in to talk to anyone, including dad, I laid down on the makeshift bed still in my regular clothes. I don't remember anything after that, until the next morning. Dad told me later that he came in and tried to wake me up, but couldn't. He said I scared him because he thought I was dead. I don't know where he ended up sleeping, maybe on the couch as there was only one bedroom and Florine, his wife and small daughter slept there. The next thing I remember, I was being woke up to catch a very early train. It was still pitch black outside, and as I remember it was about 4:00 in the morning. It felt like I had been run over by a train. My morning sickness, mixed with the strange new smells of the country didn't mix well. Breakfast always consisted of very large radishes. The hottest things I've ever experienced, along with some type of salami, tomatoes, and cucumbers. We wiped the vegetables off with alcohol wipes and then painstakingly peeled the tomatoes and cucumbers. My doctor told me it would be dangerous for me if I were to get sick from the food. That it was imperative we clean it with alcohol wipes, then peel it before we consumed it. I was not able to eat the radishes or salami, even though I gave it my best effort. I wasn’t able to keep anything down the entire time we were there. I quickly changed into my other set of clothing and we were off again.

Apparently we were late, as Florine was clearly rushing to get us to the train station. When we arrived with all the boxes and luggage, it required one of the porters working at the train station to help us load everything on a rolling cart. Thankfully, Florine had already purchased our tickets, and handed them to me. The porter was pushing the cart fast, and was obviously under the influence of the night before. If he hadn't been holding on to the cart, he would have fallen down, he was that drunk. As we entered the train station through two huge double metal and glass doors. They were heavy and extremely tall. When we tried to open the doors, we discovered a man lying on the floor just inside the door, making it difficult to open the door. The porter became frustrated, and shoved the cart against the door, pushing the feeble old man out of the way enough to get through the door, but not far enough to be out of the way of the cart. As we entered through the massive doors, our nostrils were immediately assaulted with the stench or urine and fecal matter, stronger than any I have experienced before or since. As we moved around the old man on the floor, he was crying, and pleading for help. The porter pushed the cart right over him. My sheltered life in Utah had not prepared me for the shock I was witnessing. To our horror, as we looked down upon this pitiful creature of a man, he too was drunk, had an almost empty bottle of alcohol he was holding on to, his pants were down, and he was lying in his own waste. It was all over him and the floor around him. He was totally exposed from the waist down. One of his testicles was the size of a football, totally exposed, and obviously painful. I was crying and tried to stop and offer some type of assistance. Even in this horrific state, this was a beloved son of our Heavenly Father who was in dire need of help. After the porter pushed the cart over the top of him he just kept going. Dad grabbed my arm and pulled me along. I tried to resist, how could we just leave him there?!!! But he emotionally told me it was beyond anything we could possibly do at the time and circumstances, and our baggage was moving along without us. Chasing after the porter, we quickly made our way through the remaining caverns of the train station. It soon became evident there were many more souls laying all over the floors and benches, also in their own messes. Urine and feces were everywhere. It was difficult to walk without stepping in it. It was all I could do not to gag. I knew if I did, I would throw up. Holding my breath, we were finally able to get through the station to the outside air again, catching up to the porter and our things.

We somehow located our coach that would transport us directly to Galati (pronounced Ga-lotz) with many stops along the way. We had first class accommodations on the train, which at one time had been luxurious. It was evident that luxury had been a long time ago. At first, we were the only ones in our little compartment, in the first car on the train. Soon, a well-dressed woman about 50 years old came and shared our compartment with us. She spoke fluent English, and suggested we close the door and the blinds so others on the train could not see us and our possessions. Looking back, this too was another tender mercy. As I looked out the window of the train, I could see other trains, and people were piling into them like sardines. These trains were headed in different directions, making it so that I could see all the different classes of train cars and the people getting into them. I soon became grateful for the accommodations that had been previously arranged to make us as comfortable as possible. Some of the train cars looked like they had come straight from the Holocaust. I wondered if any of them had actually been used by Nazi Germany to transport Jews to the concentration camps. The shrill high pitch whistle of the locomotive made it feel like I was in a World War II movie.

As the train got under way, and the conductor came and punched our tickets, the woman started talking to us. Even though we had been told not to tell people why we were in the country, I felt comfortable and safe sharing our story with her. It was obvious she had our best interest in mind, and told us to keep our possessions close while we were in the country. Our train ride was to be about four hours long. This woman who never told us her name began to share her own story. We learned she was an English teacher. She and her husband lived in the town just before Galati. When Ceausescu took over, it was required for people to denounce their religion, and just like Hitler did, Ceausescu ordered books and entire libraries to be burned. Her husband refused to denounce his religion. One night while they were in bed asleep, the secret police broke into their apartment, drug him from his bed and took him away. They left her alone, and for years she had no idea what had become of him. After Ceausescu was overthrown, all of these political prisoners were released. For years, this woman’s husband had spent his time in a jail cell the size of a small closet, with no window, and just a hole in the floor for sewage. It often amazes me how people are able to survive in these types of conditions for years on end. She had actually given up hope that he was alive, however one day out of the blue, he walked through the door. It was a joyous reunion for them both! He never renounced his religion, and gave God the credit for his survival and release. She also told us of a college town that had been bulldozed and covered over with the students buried alive. The government did this because the students were trying to stand up to the government, its corrupt practices, and the ban on books. I had read and studied a lot about what was going on in Romania during the long months of preparation before we left. I had tried to prepare myself for the horrors I might see, hear, smell, feel and experience firsthand. I quickly discovered that no amount of study and preparation could prepare me, for what I witnessed in the three weeks we were there.

I soon recognized by looking at these people in the eye if they had the Light of Christ inside them, or not. Those that did, had eyes that shone brightly with His light, and I knew I could trust them. That Heavenly Father was watching out for us, and angels on both sides of the veil were ministering to us on our journey. Those that did not have the Light of Christ, made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Their eyes were lifeless black holes that scared me. I did not like being in their evil presence. Just before it was time for this woman to depart at her stop, she gave us instructions that we were to gather our things, keep them close, not take our eyes off them, and quickly get off at the next stop in Galati. She then gave me a couple postcards with beautiful pictures of Romania. I felt impressed to give her a Romanian copy of The Book of Mormon. When I gave it to her, she hugged it, and cried. And then hugged me and kissed me on both cheeks. She could not believe I would give her such a gift! A book! Something I obviously took for granted, and something she cherished greatly! It didn’t even matter to her what was inside the book, she was deeply touched and grateful.

I want to mention here, that just before her stop, I had a strange sensation in my mouth. Suddenly, my eyes began to water, my jaw clenched, and I had the strongest metallic taste in my mouth! Being pregnant, with the sense of taste and smell greatly magnified, I asked, can you taste that?!!!! She told us it was from the nearby nickel plant. Knowing that I carried my unborn child within me, I worried and prayed that his body and mine would not be adversely affected by the obvious pollution I was tasting and breathing into my body. Prior to this, I had often thought about the strict standards we have here in the United States regarding pollution, acid rain and such. And what a nuisance I thought they were. I gained an immediate understanding why we have them, and have not complained about them since. What a blessing it is to have clean air, clean soil, and clean water!

We said goodbye to this intelligent, kind, angel who had been placed in our path. And to this day I often wonder about her and her family praying they are well and good. I also learned it is customary to give a small gift to exchange with people you meet in Romania. I was grateful for the Romanian copies of The Book of Mormon I had taken with me. Many do not understand what it is about. It is not a substitute for the Bible, and was not written by Joseph Smith. It is a history of the original inhabitants of the Americas, miraculously translated from golden plates given to Joseph Smith in Upper New York State in September of 1827. Its teachings are inspired, and are written for us in our day to learn from and to live by the teachings found therein. You can learn more about The Book of Mormon and its origins at www.TheChurchofJesusChrist.org

There are more chapters to come in our adoption story of LIGHT and Love. Next week we will be announcing our first Candle In The Window giveaway. It’s a good one you won’t want to miss, so be sure to check back! Have the rest of a great week and share some LIGHT!

Love Ya, Les ☺

Family

Chapter Five : First Meal, Early Train to Galati