Still Here, Still Called

Dear friends,

We hope you are doing well, and to thank you for taking your time to read our update; it means a lot to us.

It’s been a while since we’ve shared an update — not because we’ve stopped doing ministry, but because we needed a pause. A deep, intentional pause. This is by far the longest update, and also the most open/vulnerable we have shared.

After serving as full-time missionaries in Romania for several years — working with different organizations, local churches, and among diverse communities like the Roma, Hungarians, and Romanians — we’ve experienced powerful, beautiful moments where we’ve seen God move in incredible ways. Lives transformed, hope restored, and the gospel shared in places that felt impossible. For that, we are so thankful.

But we’ve also encountered deep brokenness — things most people never see. We’ve walked through physical exhaustion, emotional strain, disappointment from broken promises, and frustration from unmet expectations. At times, we felt let down by teams and leaders we trusted. All of this created wounds that we didn’t even realize needed healing.

People often talk about how beautiful missions is — and it truly is! It’s important, vital, and full of purpose. But missions also comes with a cost that’s hard to describe until you’ve lived it. We’re not sharing this to complain or to make anyone feel sorry for us. That’s not our heart. We’re sharing this because after all these years of ministry, we realized we’ve never truly opened up about the other side of missions.

In May, I stopped working with the Lighthouse project because I knew, deep in my spirit, that it was time. I didn’t feel like I was walking in the calling God gave me. I know I’m called to disciple and raise up leaders, and sometimes that means stepping away from something good — to say yes to something God is preparing.

In those hidden seasons, our faith and character were forged. Our marriage grew. And we’ve also come to terms with something that used to feel painful: not everyone will understand what we do or why we do it. The Lord uses each of us in unique ways, and living a life like this — unpredictable, cross-cultural, and Spirit-led — is something most people won’t relate to. And that’s okay.

What drives us is not a clear strategy or a comfortable outcome. It’s a personal conviction from the Holy Spirit. That alone is what keeps us going.

This break has also given us something precious: time to rest and time to be fully present with our family. And yes — to wait on the Lord.

Waiting isn’t easy. It’s full of uncertainty and often full of voices — critics, and people advising us, even with good intentions, on what to do next. It is wise to ask for advice; we did. But during this time, we’ve learned to press pause on all the external voices. To sit in silence before the Lord. To listen.

We honestly don’t know what the future will look like — and for the first time, we’re okay with that, even when it's hard. This season has taught us what it means to fully depend on God. Not our plans. Not platforms. Just Him.

And even in this time of waiting, we haven’t stopped ministering. I continue to preach in our local church in Cluj. We remain involved in Ukraine — discipling leaders, visiting orphans, bringing hope, and walking with the broken. Wherever the Lord opens a door, we go.

Just last week, we had the joy of participating as a family in a youth camp in Ukraine—our very first time going together as a family. Youth from several local churches in Lviv attended, alongside others from the orphanage we visit, and some who still don’t yet know Jesus. One of the most powerful moments came during a time of prayer, when a teenage girl stood up and asked us to pray that God would stop the war. Her father and uncle had recently been killed on the frontlines. Her words brought me into silence—and then into tears. We were all moved deeply. We felt the pain, the loss, the weight of her words. It was a sacred moment that reminded us again why we go, why we pray, and why we keep showing up. We hold on to the truth that God does not forget the tears of His children. As Scripture says, He will wipe away every tear from their eyes.

This time has also challenged and reshaped how we see missions.

Many people picture missions as something big — massive projects, big crowds, lots of visible activity. And while we honor those who are called to that, we’ve come to see it differently. For us, missions is simply bringing the good news of Jesus to the lost. That’s it.

We know some wonder why we aren’t doing more social projects with the Roma here in Romania. The truth is, we’ve done that — and we’ve loved it. But God reminded us again and again: we’re not called to be social workers. We are called to preach the gospel and make disciples.

No big platform needed. No applause required.

We deeply respect those who are called to serve through social programs and humanitarian aid — that’s a powerful part of the Kingdom. But we’ve learned to stop comparing and to simply be faithful to what He has asked of us.

So here we are — not with all the answers, not with a clear map, but with a willing heart. We’re taking one step at a time, trusting that obedience — even when unseen — will bear fruit.

Thank you for walking with us. For standing by us not just in the highlights, but in the hidden places. Your prayers, your trust, your friendship — they’ve meant more than words can express.

We love you.

With gratitude,Alejandro, Rozanne & the kids

In the picture below, 3 young siblings whom we deeply love and value. From left to right, Rustic 12, Diana 15, Nathalia 17. In the last 2.5 years, our relationship with them has grown, especially with Alejandro (as he ministers in Ukraine often). They are our kids in Ukraine; they call him dad, and he calls them daughters. They live in an orphanage in Lviv. Please pray for protection over them and God's guidance over their future and lives. They are beautiful and worthy!