Editor’s note: George Teodorovici and his family immigrated to the United States in 1985 to escape oppression in Romania. For Thanksgiving, he is sharing an excerpt from his upcoming book about the experience.
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. It is not only because I can’t wait to taste my daughter Lauren’s first turkey or the best pumpkin pie that my daughter Morgan is learning to bake, or several other dinners with family and friends. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday because I have a lot to be thankful for.
Looking back at the journey that started 27 years ago when I first stepped on American soil, words can’t describe what I feel. I will always remember that day. Just as so many emigrants before me, I was a stranger in a strange country that spoke a language I could barely understand, and I was scared to talk to anyone. The communists warned me before I left Romania that they would find me and kill me if I spoke one negative word against them.
The only things that I brought with me were dreams, hope and my faith in God. Now 27 years later, I realize that I achieved more than I ever dreamed of or hoped for.
My oldest daughter, Lauren, is a senior at Catawba College and her dream is to become an orthopedic surgeon. My son, Gabriel, just started at Catawba and he wants to become a youth pastor. My youngest daughter, Morgan, just turned 15 and is excited about learning to drive.
Every Thanksgiving as we sit down at the table, we take turns to talk about things and people that we are thankful for. This year I have a long list of names to bring up, people that through their friendship and actions shaped my destiny.
The list of people is too long to mention, but I will never forget Rose Post. She welcomed me at Charlotte Douglas airport along with about 60 people from Landmark Church back in 1985. She was the first person that wrote about my family and encouraged me not to be afraid to speak the truth and write about my life under communism because the secret to freedom is courage. As a result, in spite of my busy life, I just finished writing my first book, “Journey to Freedom,” and I hope it will be in print by Christmas.
Here is an excerpt:
America at Last
After a 12 hour airplane ride we arrived in New York City. The first thing we saw was the Statue of Liberty. As the pilot pointed it out, knowing how much it meant for us to see, that was such a beautiful and emotional moment. After we landed, we had to rush to a different terminal to take another plane to our final destination. We barely made it and I was a little confused because the plane was flying to Charlotte, N.C., instead of Jackson, Miss. I had thought we were going to take yet another plane from there and then continue on.
When the airplane arrived in Charlotte, it was late in the evening. I didn’t even know what time or what day it was and I was dead tired. We grabbed our bags and we walked out of the terminal, looking for an information desk. But to our surprise right in front of us there stood a big group of more than 60 people holding a big banner saying “BUN VENIT” (welcome). They clapped and cheered and we had no idea what was happening. Then a WBTV3 news camera crew and reporters gathered around us. It was too much to take in and I was very nervous and confused. I think I was shaking. I didn’t know what to think, didn’t know any of the people there or what they wanted because they were all talking at the same time and their English was hard for me to understand.
As they gathered around us, some had tears in their eyes, hugging and welcoming us. When it got a little quieter, a TV reporter through a translator started to ask Dad questions.
“Why did you choose to come to America?”
“Because I heard that this is a free country and I want to be free to worship my God.” Dad replied.
We didn’t know at the time but that interview was live and a lot of people in the viewing area were watching us. We were the first immigrants to come out of a communist country there and people were curious. Then a “Salisbury Post” newspaper reporter started to ask me questions when she heard that I was speaking some English. First, I asked her:
“Can you please tell me what is going on and who are all these people? We have a sponsor in Jackson, Mississippi, and we need to get there.” Then the reporter smiled and introduced herself;
“My name is Rose Post and I am a Salisbury Post reporter. These people are members of the Landmark Church; they are your new sponsors. They have a home prepared for you in Salisbury not far from here and they are going to drive you there.’
I will never forget that. I kept asking myself when the surprises would end. Considering our physical and emotional rollercoaster, we were ready for a break. As I watched all those people around us, I asked myself, who are these people and why do they care so much about us? But I was too tired to comprehend and the only thing going through my mind was to not say anything bad about Romania. I didn’t know it at that time, but even an ocean away, I was still controlled by the communists through fear.
Finally we left the airport, and I was riding with the newspaper reporters on the way to Salisbury. They started to ask me questions again.
“Do you have any plans for the future? If you find a pretty American girl are you going to stay in Salisbury and start a family?”
I was so overwhelmed and tired by everything and all I could think to say was; “I don’t know, I am tired right now, and I just want to go to sleep.” To make things worse they insisted on stopping at a fast food place, to buy me my first burger, french fries and a large cola. Perhaps they were thinking that would make me talk? What a strange new technique of interrogation, I thought.
At this point I was too nauseated to eat anything and they didn’t understand why. They began asking questions about our life in Romania. I wanted to answer their questions, but I was afraid to and gave them some vague answers but nothing specific like they wanted.
After about a 40-minute ride, the car pulled in the driveway of this big, white, older, two-story house and there were more people in the yard and in the house waiting for us. We were then invited in and introduced to the rest of the people. Inside there were all kinds of food and drinks on the table, most of which I had never seen before. It was a big happy party and all those joyful people made me forget how tired I was.
When the rest of my family got in, Dad motioned for everybody to be quiet, and then he said. “Let’s pray and thank God for everything He did first. This house from now on will be a house of prayer.”
There were many tears during that prayer, but they were tears of joy. Everyone could feel God’s presence in that house, and for the first time in my life, I was not afraid that someone would come in and arrest us for what we just did. It was during that moment that I tasted freedom for the first time to the fullest.
In the days that followed I had learned so much from those people and why they were so happy and blessed to have us. For some of them, it was proof that God still works miracles. For some, it was the answer to their prayers.
Everyone had questions and wanted to know about our life under communist dictatorship and how we managed to come out of Romania. I wanted to tell them everything, but the words of the Romanian government officials were still ringing loudly in my ears: “If you tell anyone about anything that happened to your family here in Romania, we will find you. We have highly trained agents all over the world. Also you will be responsible for making life miserable for your fellow Christians, friends and relatives here in Romania!”
When you live in a country under communistic rule, fear of your government is all one knows. Fear is a tactic this kind of government will use to keep the people under its control. So I kindly avoided the reporter’s questions and talked about how happy we were to be in the United States, and thanked everyone for their prayers and support. …
I will never forget waking up to the first day of my new life in America. Despite the hot and humid June afternoon, I went out to explore the surroundings of my new home in this brand new country. It was a feeling that I have never felt before. It was my first day of freedom in America!
Day after day people visited us. We were able to meet many selfless strangers who showed me the love of Christ and we became friends. They drove us everywhere, showed us around, and taught us about the new life here in America.
Sunday came and Landmark Church was packed. The pastor told us that for the first time since the church was built that his dream of seeing the church full had finally come true. It was my very first experience to witness people worshipping God in complete freedom. They were from all kinds of denominations, from Catholics to Pentecostals, but they were all worshipping as one. Some of them were clapped their hands, some lifted up their hands towards Heaven as tears of joy fell down their faces.
At the end of the service, several people stood up to testify, but the testimony of one little old lady stood out. She told the congregation about the strange dream she had about a year ago and how that day it came true. Then she pointed to where my family was sitting and said.
“This is exactly what I saw in a dream last year and I didn’t know what those strangers were doing in our church. The ladies had the same strange scarves covering their heads and they were sitting in the same spot just as they are sitting now. I told Pastor Benny about it, but he didn’t know what it meant either because he had not heard of them at that time.” Everyone praised God and cheered while tears were falling like rain.
I raise the question again; was that just another coincidence? How on earth can anyone say that we are here on earth by accident or that God doesn’t speak to people anymore?
I could finally see a part of the big picture and how God was using His people to do His work. It all came together perfectly in His time. At times I was overwhelmed by everything around me, and at the same time I wondered what would happen next? I couldn’t imagine what went through Mom and Dad’s minds. I remember what some of our new friends were describing when they took them to the store for the first time. They said it was overwhelming for Mom and Dad. It was hard for them to believe that they could buy as much as they wanted, and more than they ever wanted was available without having to wait in line for hours.
Indoor plumbing and running water were all new to us also. We didn’t have to carry water in buckets from the neighborhood well anymore. Then washing clothes in a washing machine with warm water instead of by hand in the wash tub or creek was so easy. I still remember those days when I had to carry water from the creek for washing and bathing. Or when I had to help Mom carry clothes to the creek, summer or winter, to wash them and then carry them back to dry them out on lines. Everything was so new to us; some things were way too much for us to understand and some we thought were not even necessary for everyday life. But we learned to enjoy all the new things, and especially the people and that little town of Salisbury, with its beautiful historic sites and parks.
It took about one month to finalize all of my permanent resident papers before I could start my first job. It took me much longer to stop looking over my shoulder. It was still hard for me to place trust in anyone …My next door neighbor, Richard, was one of the wisest and nicest old men I had met so far. One day I was talking to him over the fence about his garden, and then I brought up the constant racial problems in this country. I told him about the way it was portrayed on Romanian television every day as a constant reminder of one of the evils of capitalism.
To my surprise, he stopped me and set me straight right then and there, “Young man, you were brainwashed. There is no such thing here. What you heard and saw on Romanian television was communist propaganda. I was one of the few black men in my crew working on the railroad down south and the majority of white men treated me like one of them, they did not discriminate. Remember, if you do your job, treat everyone the way you want to be treated, you will have no problems in this country. Now there are some people in this country that are playing the race card for profit and to instigate racial tension for their own gain. And there are some racist individuals in every race. Some of my ancestors were slaves but there were also white and yellow slaves working side by side. In this country, you have to use the fact that you are a different as a device to better challenge you, instead of a crutch, and then you will go far, young man.”
I did not believe him at first, but later it was proved to be the truth, by what I saw among my co-workers and many other great people that I met here in America.
I thought that the first front page article in The Salisbury Post newspaper about us published the day after our arrival was enough, but on Sept. 1, 1985, Rose Post wrote again. It was an article on two pages that I happened to find many years later. This is the first part of it on the first page:
“New Americans – Romanians happy to be here”
Two days after the 13 Teo’s – frightened, bone-weary, jet-lagged from their long flight to religious freedom – got off the plane in Charlotte looking much like the immigrants of old at Ellis Island, George, the only one among them who could speak any English, went to the Rev. Benny Hillard.
“Give us work please,” George told Benny, pastor of Landmark Church which was opening America to them, “yard work, house work, any kind of work anyone in church has. Let us do it. Not for pay. We want something to do. We don’t want to do nothing.”
One month after the Teo’s of Romania – mama, papa, grandmother, and 10 children – got off that plane, they were supporting themselves.
Now, slightly more than two months later, five have paying jobs, six are in school, all are learning English – and mama and papa look at least 10 years younger than they did that Wednesday night in June when they filed into the airport, their satchels in their hands, babushkas on their heads, fear blinking in their tired eyes.
They are now on their way to being Americans, so busy, says George, the eldest son, that he doesn’t even have time to realize he’s happy.
But he says it with a broad smile on his face, a smile reflected on the faces of brothers and sisters getting ready to go to Rowan Tech for an English class.
They are happy. … What is happy for them anyway?
Happy is praying without being afraid. Happy is going to church without fear.
Happy is work, school, indoor plumbing, a cat, a dog, a hutch full of rabbits to pet, not to eat.
Happy is thinking about getting a car.
Happy is having friends and laughter.
They’ve learned to laugh again – starting that night when they walked into the airport terminal and saw the big red letters held up by eight of the 60-plus people from Landmark Church who were there to welcome them.
“BUN VENIT,” the letters spelled, that first warm “Welcome”
And the laughter continued.
“When you put kids in a pool,” says Dolores Van Vorst, “and it’s hot and they’re having fun, they laugh in the same language.”
And friends … Oh the friends they’ve made,
“Those people,” says Dolores, “are as close to my heart as my family. I couldn’t choose.”
Inspiring …
“The Romanians” Benny adds, “have taught us something. They’ve shared something they’ve endured, and in their faith they’ve put me to shame. They’re loving people, compassionate people. They pray as a family. They feel that God has spared them and brought them out as a result of prayer, and it’s inspiring to see the gratitude.
“And they’re the workingest people I’ve ever seen. They’ll tackle any job, it doesn’t matter how base.”
Benny no longer questions whether or not his church should have said yes last March when World Relief, an organization supported by the U.S. government and the National Associations of Evangelicals to which non-denominational Landmark belongs, asked his members to sponsor a Christian refugee family of 13 from Romania.
But he did then.
How could they look after 13 people?
They decided they could, found a big house on Bringle Ferry Road, furnished it, stocked it with clothing and food and – and discovered that was enough.
By the second week the Teos didn’t want people to bring food any more.
“They wanted to be independent,” Dolores says. “They didn’t want to keep taking.
By the second month the Teos were not only buying their own food. They were also paying their own rent.
“Officially,” Benny Hillard says, “the church did not spend one penny.”
Oh, the new friends are still driving them where they need to (Marla Lowery has to keep a schedule on transportation), making sure the children have new clothes for school because children shouldn’t look different when they go to a new school, still helping them learn English, helping them get three Romanian friends into this country, still there when they need advice about how to get along in this new land.
But not because they have to. Because they’re friends – and want to.”Our people have gotten involved,” Benny says, “and they’ve enjoyed every minute of it. The Teos seem to have some kind of magnetism. They’re a family the church has come to love. They’ve won everyone – even the people who were mildly opposed.”
Yes, we were happy and free at last and we didn’t realize that we were making other people happy also.
I remember learning to drive a car. It was so new and so exciting but somehow so familiar. That dream I had since I was a child came true …