teanna sunberg

Tag: Eastern Europe

  • reporter

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    by

    teanna2day
    in

    I have a reporter’s journal. I take it with me wherever I go with this crazy idea that I am somehow recording and reporting our history in Eastern Europe. Sometimes, a day in the life of a missionary is about recording and reporting and hoping and praying. I will need a new notebook soon because…

  • the making of a prostitute

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    by

    teanna2day
    in

    “The girls made cookies yesterday.” Bee tells me this as we chat. ‘The girls? Ohhh, THOSE girls.‘

  • When you sell people

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    by

    teanna2day
    in

    When you sell people, you get a bargain. The maintenance is relatively cheap – a human can live and function with remarkably small amounts of cheap food. The product is easily controlled, especially if you own something of theirs. Burning their baby is highly effective, if you let them hear the pitiful screams.  Consider buying as…

  • just an old conference

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    by

    teanna2day
    in

    They are not miracle workers. They work with prostituted women. They live into the lives of Roma. They pastor families. They carve out Jesus moments in cultures that are post-Christian, post-modern, post-Communist. They move into communities that have all but forgotten that hope still smiles on people like them.  And they blow. They blow the breath…

  • a day in the life of …

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    by

    teanna2day
    in

    ‘What in the world do missionaries do?’ A difficult question to answer.   To some, missionary is a four-letter word. For others, it is one gigantic mystery: one of those words that we know by Webster definition but beyond that, we have no real context for understanding. Sure, if we are the church-going type, we know…

  • sanctuary

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    by

    teanna2day
    in

    The fog is thick here in the hug of the Carpathian mountains. Heavy. Like the snow that charms an inky night with its shushing lullaby to the arctic wind. On this day, we shepherd an array of children through the mud caked paths that have been loosely coined streets. Slick and chocolatey, our feet fail…

  • train hopping

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    by

    teanna2day
    in

    10:30. Cold night. Our breath swirls in crystalized, fanciful designs.  The icy air dances as we glimpse another, colder, harsher world. A conductor rattles into the train station and kicks out a daddy and his children looking for a warm night. I feel helpless. Sad. “Mommy. Where will they go?” I’ve lived this mommy life…

  • from the heart of sighisoara

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    by

    teanna2day
    in

    Sighisoara is full of tourists this time of year. Dark haired, Italian beauties leaning against ancient Draculesque walls in paparazzi poses. Germans out for a brisk walk.  The Brits snapping photos. It seems that you can find all of Europe snuggled into the arms of this very old, very quaint, quite unassuming Saxon citadel on…

  • my apologies to martha stewart

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    by

    teanna2day
    in

    HOSPITALITY. It is a table full of sarmali that took hours to wrap and the sweet tang of locally grown elderflower juice, and salata de boeuf with homemade mayonnaise. It is a table made beautiful, not by the money spent on knick knacks, but rather, by the beauty created in spite of a lack of…

  • where were you?

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    by

    teanna2day
    in

    With the coffee cup midway to a sip, the first text slammed into our afternoon. ‘Where are you? Lydia has hurt her ankle. Come quickly.’ And a little later, another text, ‘It may be broken.’ Our hospital journey had begun.