I am sitting on the bed I’ve rented at a hostel in Rome. I am going to take my final leg home from Europe in two more days. I feel like I am heading into the unknown even more so than I was a year ago. If a fish can be happy to travel with the whims of the ocean in its ever surging and chaos spreading form, knowing that it will have a home in the ocean and food enough, then I can be happy in the arms of God.
Saying goodbye to my Albanian family did not feel entirely dishonest, but it did not feel as clean as the period at the end of a sentence either. A cornerstone has been laid for a house for me in Albania; will I ever return to complete the house I’ve begun there? Is it my lot in life to have a home at all? Will I find myself planted firmly like a precious, rooting seed when God’s preparation of me is complete? I could make a happy life for myself among the people of Albania. Is a happy life the life for me?
Journey and sail with wind or against it, break the kite-string and fly off into lightning and savage excitement. There is more to living than I ever expected. Life is so abundant with God.
albaniacalling 