Hope in Romania

No birthday candles.
No warm meal waiting after school.
No hug from someone who calls you by name.

In Babadag, Romania, this is more common than you’d imagine — especially for children in the Roma Gypsy community. Some have never been to school. Some don’t know the national language. Many have never been hugged.

This is where we’re building something different.
Not just walls.
Not just classrooms.
A place to be seen. A place to belong.

You may ask yourself, why Babadag? Vali Pavlov, the Director of the Hope Center in Babadag, knows this community well.

“Many of these children don’t have parents. Or they’ve been left behind. Some have never met their mother. What they hear at home isn’t love — it’s ‘you’re a problem,’ ‘you’re not wanted.’ We’re here to tell them the opposite.”

What we are building in Babadag is simple — and life-changing:

• A place where kids are fed every day
• A safe environment where education is possible
• A team that cares for their hearts as much as their needs
• A daily reminder that they are made in the image of God

This building isn’t just a project. It’s the physical expression of obedience — one lived out by families who’ve given up comfort, stability, and convenience to serve.

One of the leaders overseeing the Hope Centers in Romania told us:

“We don’t do this work because it’s a career. We do it because it’s who we are.”

You see it in their eyes. You hear it in their voices. You feel it in the way they serve.

They open their homes to abandoned children. Cross borders to rescue trafficked women. Lead Bible studies in remote villages. And they smile while doing it.

This isn’t a strategy. It’s devotion.

We believe that no child is forgotten.
Not by God.
Not by us.
And not by those who give — even if they’re halfway around the world.

This center isn’t about fixing a problem. It’s about telling a different story. One where a child who was overlooked becomes a student. A leader. A disciple. A light.

The Babadag Hope Center isn’t just a place for programs. It’s a place where compassion meets complexity — where broken stories are met with quiet, unwavering love.

The team here serves beyond what’s seen. They walk with families through situations most would run from. They protect the vulnerable, restore dignity, and do it with a wisdom that doesn’t demand recognition.

“We don’t do this because it’s easy,” one leader shared. “We do it because it’s right.”

They show up when it’s uncomfortable. They give when it costs something.
They serve in ways that can’t be posted, tracked, or quantified — and that’s what makes it holy.

This isn’t strategy.
It’s devotion.

The new Hope Center in Babadag isn’t finished yet. The walls are going up. The rooms are being painted. The spaces are being prayed over.

And yet, hope is already here.

It’s in the way girls are being protected.
It’s in the way children are being taught.
It’s in the way a community’s most vulnerable are being seen.

This is what happens when people say yes to God with everything.
Not just a job. Not just a role. But a life.