Posted in Lydia's Posts, Songs

You Are Our King

You are our King,

We are your people.

You are our Master,

We are your servants.

You are our Shepherd,

We are your sheep.

You are our King,

We are your people.

You are our Master,

We are your servants.

You are our Shepherd,

We are your sheep.

by Lydia Faith Leake age 7

Posted in Elisabeth's Post, Uncategorized


Romania is a very unique country in Eastern Europe. For about a year and a half I have really been studying it. Here are some things I have found out about it.


In 1989 the Communist ruler fell, but the people still suffer from Communism. It also has one of the highest abortion rates in the world: three or more children are aborted for every born child. There is also much poverty and many orphans. Some of the less reached groups are the Roma (Gypsies), Muslims, and people in the south-east regions.


I really want to be a missionary to Romania some day if it’s God’s will. I would like to be a witness to the Gypsies and orphans.


Here are some words and phrases I have learned:

!. “Good-bye”

“La revedere”



3. “I love you”

“Te iubesc”


Well, I hope you have enjoyed this post about Romania. If you know anything else about the country I would love to hear about it.


On another note:

I did a funny thing today. We were down by our neighbor’s electric fence and I was messing with the wire. I first touched it cautiously then seeing that it wasn’t on I told my sister, Lydia, to touch it. She was a little scared to, but I assured her that it would be fine. Then I jokingly said that I was going to “turn” the electricity on. I walked over to one of the posts and touched the wire next to it.”Picshsh!”  Wo, the fence was on! With a nervous laugh, I quickly drew back my hand as the electricity tingled through my arm. That was the first time I have ever been shocked.



This is suppose to be Romanian dress, but I don’t think it’s quite right.
Posted in Elisabeth's Post, pictures, Poetry

Gypsy Sparkle

With wagons rumbling down dirt roads,

Gypsies’ ponies pulling harsh loads;

Children, running, laughing, racing;

While dogs are barking and chasing.


With their bright and shining attire,

Girl’s black raven hair boys admire;

Tinkle-jingling jewelry galore,

And boys red cravats to adore.


Gypsies setting up camp for night,

The women start fires just right,

Cooking food’s perfume fills the air,

And ponies munch the grass so fare.


Like chickens, laughing as they munch;

Narrating ancient tales a bunch,

Telling incidents of the day;

Then dancing and singing away.


Now to the world of sleep and dreams:

Women clean the pots, a child screams,

Men yelling orders across the camp,

Then off to bed in wagons damp.


They sleep as stars twinkle and shine;

Ruffled hair from sleeping child fine,

Roaring, snoring old-grandpa men,

Whimpering babies nom and then.


Gypsies now rise for a new day,

A life of wandering away;

To stay right here for some short while

Or going there a little mile.


Gypsies, that’s what Christians really are,

Wandering near and very far,

This world is not our residence;

But heaven with Jesus in confidence.





                                                                                                  April 3, 2012

                                                                                                  At age 14