This morning I was faced with a difficult choice early on. Would I face the rains and take the three-leg bus into Fushekruje, or accompany my friend Marian to the bus stop in Tirana and then go to service at the International Church? I decided to go with Marian. It was good for me to stand at the bus stop with him, to talk a bit before he headed home to Fushe Arez. Marian was my roommate for my first two months here in Albania. He knows more of my story than most people. He is one of the school translators and so I needn’t say that his English is excellent, but it is. Last night I had a dream about a woman I used to know. He helped me process my thoughts about it as a pair of young shepherds drove their flock and small herd past our bus stop.
We had gotten to a point in the conversation where he was filling in my words for me with his own thoughts; the way people do when they think they have a handle on what your truth is. It was at that point I realized how content I am in fact with where I am in my life, regardless of what my sub-conscious may try to convince me of when I am not awake. I miss companionship, true companionship, the way God intended. With God we are never alone for long. None of the relationships I’ve made over the past six months would have been possible had I not been free to travel here as a missionary. Nor would have been a witness to the sun breaking through clouds over the alps on this cloud-rich morning.
Staying in Tirana this morning netted me an additional four hours of time. Without making the commute to Fushekruje it was as though I had time to do anything I wanted to. I spent an hour before the beginning of church journaling and writing poetry, people watching and conversing with my waiter. The sermon was the first sermon in English I have sat through in six months. I hadn’t realized how much I have been missing the spiritual food which is given when a disciple of God is administering directly to me. I took time after the service to thank Pastor Barry personally.
As I sat in the service, I wrote down the following thought: As Michelangelo chipped away at the raw marble, did the marble know how beautiful it was becoming? You are raw stone. As God chisels away at you, do you recognize how beautiful you are becoming?
albaniacalling 