Long Ago and Far Away

That's kind of how Albania is starting to feel to me--like it was a long time ago and far far away. Don't get me wrong, though, because I still fall asleep thinking about it every night and I still talk about it all the time! It's just that lately there's been so much going on in my life that what happened then seems like ages ago.

But with all the snow and wind and cold here in MN, it is a most un-Albania like climate. However, the one thing I keep craving is totally Albanian. I want some salep in the worst way! lol :) It's smooth thickness and warm flavor would be just the ticket on these bitter cold days. Oh, man! I just want a cup of salep in my hands, warming them up, steam rising from the top with that deliciously comforting aroma wafting to my nose. Mmmmm!!!!

But alas. I am here, not there. And here, salep does not exist. I will have to settle for cheap cappuccino or hot chocolate, or crappy cafeteria coffee with lots of flavored creamer. lol Just goes to show that no place is perfect. A combination, however, would be amazing! :)

Love & Hospitality

Chapel is always a place where I end up doing a lot of thinking. The same is true of church. Maybe that's a bad thing. Maybe I should be doing more listening and less thinking. But so often, the person that I'm listening to says something that sparks my thought process. Today's chapel service was no exception.

The leader was talking about a trip he went on (I forgot where. Mexico? Costa Rica? Something like that. I know it was somewhere around Central America.) and a lady he met named Rosa. He didn't speak Rosa's language and Rosa didn't speak his. But after he'd hiked 2 hours up the side of a volcano to the little village where Rosa lived, she invited he and his family into her home and offered them some ground corn meal and sugar water. She used handful of English words that she knew, she gestured, pointed, and smiled. She hugged and waved and laughed. And then, when it was time leave,  Rosa sent them off with handfuls of avocados and red beans. By the standards we are used to in America, this doesn't seem like much. A hike to a village? Only being offered a glorified water drink? Being sent home with vegetables? Little verbal communication? Most of us would be thinking, "Um....awkward...."

But I could relate fully. I got to thinking... I may not have hiked to people's homes when I was in Tirana, but some days it did feel like an urban hike, hoofing it will my full backpack through the heat and humidity or through the damp, shiver-inducing rain, to get to the other side of the city to make sure I made it to some one's house on time because I'd accepted the invitation into their home. I knew little of their language and they knew little of mine. There was much gesturing, waving, pointing, and nodding. There was always, without fail, excessive cheek kissing. :) I miss that greeting. Laughter was always abundant and the smiles were the kind come so frequently and last so long that by the end of the visit my cheeks hurt.

I remember being sent home with petulla from Mrs. Huna. I remember Kesi and Klea's family send us home with homemade plum jam. (It was gone in a hurry! hee hee!) I remember leaving other homes and being sent away with cookies, candy, nylons (for real), pictures, cards, etc. Whatever people had, they wanted to give. They showed their love, not by words, but by their actions, through their hospitality. The joy on their faces is burned into my mind. People in Albania were always to quick to share and give much of the modest little they had. Though so different from what I was and am again used to, I can scarcely remember other situations that made me feel to welcome, so loved, to cared for.

Christian love is an amazing thing. It doesn't take words to communicate. It doesn't even take big actions to communicate. It takes a willing and generous heart. Sometimes these big lessons are shown in small ways.

Te dua shume, Shqiperia!

And So A Year Has Passed

One year ago today was my last day in Albania. My flight left that night and I spent the whole day with my stomach in knots. Every moment was spent on the verge of tears which spilled over on several occasions. I had such a mix of emotions--sadness at the goodbyes, pain at the thought of never seeing some of those people again, hurt that there were things left undone and unexplored, aggravation that I'd spent my last week sick with the mumps and then a swollen eye the day before leaving, joy at knowing I would see my parents and my brother the next day, anticipation of reunions with friends, excitement at having a new house and city to acclimate to, thanksgiving for the multitude of blessings God had showered on me during my there, and nervous about such a long journey by myself.

I know that at the time I wrote about feeling relief. And, truly, that was my main emotion because it rolled all of those others into one big ball that made it seem normal to be having so many acute feelings at once.

Today, exactly one year later, I still feel just as blessed, if not more than I did that day. There aren't words to describe the gratefulness I feel for the people I met, the things I saw and did, and the placesI went. I literally have a new perspective on everything because of my time in Albania. Just thinking of it fills my heart to the point of overflowing with love for my Albanian friends and family. They taught me so much and were more patient with me than I deserved. It just makes me wonder how my Heavenly Father can love me and be patient with me even through so much more. Unfathomable.

But all of those things that altered my perspective, changed my perceptions, opened my eyes to new lines of thought, provided understanding, and educated me, all bear witness to God's love. He provided what was best for me ad taught me exactly what he in his infinite wisdom knew I needed to know. And all it took was a very unique country in Eastern Europe. ;)

The picture is of a bracelet that Neda gave me that last day in Albania. It was hers and she literally took it off her wrist and gave it to me. She told me to wear it for good luck, that when I wore it I wouldn't be sad because I would think of everyone there and be happy. She also said that it would make us close in our hearts because I would have her with me. I have been given many things in my life but I have never had someone take something off of their physical person and give it to me like that. Neda is someone with very little to give yet generosity frequently comes to mind when I think of Neda. So the fact that she gave me something of her very own right then and there makes it probably one of the most meaningful things I've ever been given.

A bracelet is a circle; everything is continuous. Therefore, in my mind, it is an appropriate symbol of my experience in Albania. All things work together for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. God knew it would all work out--the ups and downs--and that it would all fit together.

After a year has gone by, my mind is obviously jumbled with thoughts and emotions once again. But above all, I know that God set me to Albania as part of his purpose for me. I will never ever take that experience for granted. Aside from giving me my Savior and the wonderful family I have, it was the best thing that has ever happened to me.

**Note to the reader**
To write this, I used the iPhone app. for my blog and something is not right because the picture didn't attach. I'll work on figuring that out.

Daydreaming

I am a daydreamer. My thoughts are constantly going. The gears up in my head turn endlessly. Nine and a half times out of ten, I don't mind this one bit.

Sometimes when I was in Albania, I would just daydream about the places I'd seen and the things I'd done. I'd daydream about the places I had yet to see and the things I had yet to do.

I specifically remember, on several occasions, sitting at my desk in my room, staring out the window at the beautiful sight of grand Mt. Dajti while listening to what I like to call "God music." This just means that I was listening to Lakeside Acapella Choir songs (the choir I was in during high school) or to some sort of Christian contemporary artist like Kirk Franklin, Casting Crowns, or Amy Grant. But I remember just staring at the sight hearing the words of the songs praising God and jut thinking how blessed I was for what I was experiencing. I remember thinking about how thankful I was for the things I was learning every day, for the understanding and perspective I was gaining, for the way the distance from home made me appreciate people more, for the new relationships I was building, for the opportunity to see more of God's spectacular creation, etc. I can recall an overwhelming sense of peace and security during these times spent at my desk staring out the window. There were so many unknowns around me and ahead of me, but all I felt was complete contentedness looking out at the beautiful mountain and blue sky.

Here, the skies are blue today. The weather is gorgeous. Birds are chirping and there is only the faintest breeze blowing around the scents of plant life, ushering the fullness of summer into the house. Most often, it is days like today that bring out clear vivid pictures from my Albania room. Today's vision looks like this:

The picture was actually taken on one of my last days in Tirana. I was standing on the balcony outside of the living room watching a storm blow in. It occurred to me that though I'd watchedthis a number of times before, I'd never captured it in a photograph. And though the view from this balcony and from my bedroom windo was splendid in good weather, to me it was an absolutely awesome picture of God's majesty and splendor when we could see a storm building over the mountain. So many examples of his power all in one place.

There I go again.....when I should be getting the lawn mowed, the car vacuumed out, scholarship applications completed, etc., I find myself daydreaming about Albania. And I wouldn't have it any other way! :)

In The Back Of My Mind

In the back of my mind there is a large room. That's how I like to think of it. In this room are remnants of a time and a place. The room is filled with faces, most of which belong to children. Smiling laughing children of all ages. There are a few adults in the room. A tall, thin mother with slightly crooked teeth, bright eyes, and a contagious smile. A short man who looks like a big American football player but has the personality of a teddy bear. An observant woman who watches and speaks in two languages. The room flashes with scenes from many places. Views of umbrellas lined up along the beach. Sidewalks where purple and yellow buses stop to drop off and pick up passengers. Crowded round-abouts with boisterous honking vehicles, yelling pedestrians, screeching motorcycles, and bicycle bells ringing strong. Views from the top of a mountain. A simple green curtain with a small wooden cross hanging in front of it.

This is my Albania room.

Locked securely in my mind, it echoes with words like, "Po!", "c'kemi," "mirupafshim" and phrases like, "naten e mire," "sa bukur," and "shihemi neser!" Even after almost a year, the sights and sounds enclosed in this room are vivid. At night, my dreams live in this room and transport me back to the places I miss and the people I love. Sometimes, I fall asleep with tears streaming down my cheeks because the pain of missing this place is so strong.

In the back of my mind, Albania is never far away. I think of it every day. Though the number of people who can relate to my experiences are few and far between, I steal moments from this place daily. It is hard to keep up with my friends--no, family, is a better word--there. Do I do a good job of this? No. Not as well as I should. Is it hard? Yes. How do you explain a life that they don't understand? How do you do this with words on a page that are simple yet descriptive enough, all while being properly articulate?

In the back of my mind is the desire to be there again. I want to see those places. I want to talk with those people. I want to laugh, to get upset, to be angry, to be confused, to be excited, to be educated again. I don't want to relive the experience I had because I know it can't, wouldn't, won't be the same. What I want is simply another experience. Another experience in the same place with some of the same people. Some would be absent this time around, but others would step into the picture. Can I have this? Will I have this? Who knows.

Instead of dwelling on the unknown, I will focus on what I know. What I know is what I experienced. So, to keep from forgetting, I will continue this blog as a place where I can record my memories. I will share my feelings now, from the opposite side of the fence. (The grass is always greener.....right? lol) So please, allow me to unlock the door and let you into the Albania room.