Today was another day in service to the LORD.  It has been much cooler here at night with temperatures getting low enough to encourage the dawning of clothing between my evening shower and taking to bed.  If it gets much colder out I might start sleeping under my bed sheet.  The bus into the center of Tirana was crowded, but not overly so.  I have given up trying to coordinate the bracing of my hands and feet with the stop and go flow of traffic.  The bus drivers like the brake, using it at random throughout both ascents and descents.  If they take pleasure in the causing of their patrons to stumble into one another, at least they have the courtesy to save their laughter until after their shift has ended.  When I got to the job site I found Vissy already at work.  He is a good man.

We completed the second meter of the walls for the gabina today.  I have been Vissy’s assistant this week.  “Gopher” is the term most commonly used to describe a person of my skill level in the States.  Taking all of my commands in Shqip has been good for my language ear.  A successful gopher needs to be hyper aware of the actions of the person they are taking commands from.  Anticipation is a fine and valuable skill.  I like carrying the water.  

As Vissy and I were leaving Fushekruje for the day we walked past the road Agim lives on.  Agim has crossed kilometers of road and field to shake my hand before.  It was only proper for me to go to him today.  He and his wife Selvia invited me inside for a glass of cola and a small chocolate.  I asked how long they had been married; 37 years.  Marriage in Albania is far more sacred than marriage in the States.  From what I have observed, married couples tend to feel however it is that they feel about each other.  Those feelings have little to do with whether a marriage takes place to begin with and even less to do with whether or not a marriage lasts a lifetime. Who you marry is as compulsory as what color eyes you have.  Do you like your eye color?  What does that have to do with anything?

Agim and Selvia were lovely.  It was clear that they care for each other and have built a friendship over time which they both cherish.  As for me, I hope to one day find someone to spend 37 years with, whatever eye color they may have.

In the dining hall

The garage door style partitions are open to the kitchen

Hector and Oneda are fretting over speca dhe salcice

Has anything ever smelled better

Or been more like to cause envy

Paridi beep-boxes as he types out

Tomorrow’s school work

Hector finds comfort resting on one bench

Feet propped on another

Eyes fixed on his latest text message

Hana is quietly focused in on her laptop

Discussions are brief interruptions

To flourishes of typing

An underwear clad Petrit is talking

To Bruna as he paces

An energy all its own

A building full of joy

Awash in blessed love

Friends becoming family

Becoming friends

Joshua Hughes

October 2^nd 2012

I decided recently that I would reread the entire Bible starting at the beginning.  I would like to use this forum to highlight a line that struck me while reading last night.  Genesis 29:4 reads “Jacob asked the shepherds, “My brothers, where are you from.”” (NIV)  I’ve read this before, but never as a missionary.  How beautiful it is to encounter strangers and to address them as brothers before knowing anything about them.  What a beautiful moment in Jacob’s life to encounter a new place with such confidence in his God.  The God of Jacob is the creator of all things, the Father is the father over all people.  The God of Jacob is the same God we worship today.  All of us have but one father, we are all brothers and sisters and this phenomena is not restricted to include only those people we may meet at church.  Psalm 139 explains God’s presence in the lives of each of us before those lives began.

Vissy and I worked on putting up the walls for the gabina today.  A gabina might be called a generator room in English.  It is a small house designed to protect the back-up power supply for the church.  I confess to never having built with brick or block before.  In Washington we typically build structures out of wood.  The gabina has an interior and an exterior wall, both made of brick with a sheet of peshkbuk (Styrofoam) sandwiched between them to aid in the dampening of sound.  Our structure is now one meter tall.  Tomorrow we will cap the bricks with a continuous, re-bar reinforced cap called a brez.  Once that has had time to set we will build the walls to their final height of 2.2 meters.

I was outmatched by Vissies pace at laying brick today.  By the end of the day he was calling out his own name in a dampened shout “Reka!”  Anyone who has ever shot baskets alone while giving themselves a three second count-down knows what this sounds like.  “And the crowd goes wild!  Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”  That’s when you let the ball fly and it tanks off the rim at which time you have to chase it down and give yourself the benefit of a shot from the free-throw line.

Yli and his assistant are wasting no time getting the tile in the bathrooms laid.  You can always tell a good tile man by the way tile on the wall reflects light.  Only perfectly laid tiles will show reflections flawlessly.  If there is no break in the light as it shows on the wall then you can be certain that it is as flat as a mirror.  Yli is a good tile man, and a good man besides.

To round out what was essentially an introduction to Albania through the eyes of an American who has been in country for just under six months; today Cory was my guest at the church in Fushekruje.  All of the essential personalities were in attendance.  Fatjon, and Vissy met us for coffee before church began.  Pastor Alban and Bashkim both participated in the presentation of the gospel message.  Fatjon translated for Cory and myself which was a good experience for him.  Cory was a translator for her sister during a visit to Guatemala; an experience which has given her insights into many of the pitfalls of language bridging.  

Fatima was also at church today, as were Alban Datsi, Lion, and Ali.  Cory and I took the bus to get into town and later walked to the church work-site, just like I do every morning.  It was my intent for her to get a solid feel for what daily life entails for me here.  On our way to the project we stopped in and met Shpetim and two of Osman’s assistants.  Cory agreed that the metal work those men are capable of is nothing less than masterful.  Across the street, at the work-site, Cory was able to see first hand the fruits of my team’s efforts from the past 5 months.  Things really are starting to come together there.

This was Cory’s last full day in Albania, tomorrow she is flying back to Turkey.  I was honored to host her.  Cory has lived abroad in a number of counties from various parts of the world and will soon set out to do so again in a venue I am not at liberty to disclose.  Please pray for God’s covering over her as she ventures out to help in efforts to secure a more durable peace for our world.  Thank you.

Yesterday morning saw a friend of mine delivered to Rinas Airport in Tirana.  Cory and I first met in Assisi in April.  The two of us were staying at a youth hostel located an easy distance from the city walls.  Each of us made comfortable traveling companions for the other for a few days.  From Assisi she went north and I went on to Rome and then Palermo.  We have kept in touch since then via email.  She and I had originally planned to reconnect this weekend in Istanbul to see some of Turkey and possibly to travel on to Cappadocia; the homeland of many of the Church’s early Fathers.  We eventually settled on her coming to Tirana, however, as I was unable to make that trip with her.

I spent the day as guide to the cities of Tirana and Kruje.  Cory and I traveled in autobus style making the two leg journey to Kruje castle where we had lunch and enjoyed the high views from the hillside strong-hold.  The museum in Kruje is one of my favorite sites to visit in all of Albania.  It gives a comprehensive history of the national and ethnic hero Skenderbeu and is built upon some of the ruins of the castle he inhabited after declaring independence from the Turks in 1444.

I haven’t spoken with anyone in English face to face, who does not have a vested interest in the outcome of my mission here, in about six months.  In Anthropology there is a phenomena known as the “Stranger Paradigm.”  Those of you who have ridden on airplanes probably know just how easy it is for you and your seat-mate to share some of the most intimate frustrations you are facing in your life.  Having a chance to process what has been spoken primarily only in my head with someone seated across the table from me was relaxing and encouraging both.  I am experiencing peace far more than I realized.

One of the statements Craig Mathison made to me during our first Skype conversation after I had left the States was “Since beginning your time in Albania, you are probably getting a new appreciation for the term ‘manual labor.'”

“It’s pretty manual,” I responded.  That brought a laugh from the other end of the line.  Craig and his wife Dana were area directors for AG Missions in Eastern Europe a few years ago.  Half-a-dozen pallets of red bricks greeted me as I passed through the gate at the church jobsite this morning.  Vissy and I spent the better part of the day moving the roughly 1,000 25x25x10cm beauties to the back of the property using wheel barrows.  The building of things is a satisfying way to pass the time; the best I’ve found.  Most work does not result in any physical change to the environment one inhabits.

Earlier in the day I had stopped in to visit Osman and Shpetim’s shops.  Osman was out, but his assistant Alben showed me a toy that he is making out of steel.  The toy will seat five people of roughly the 20-30 kilogram variety.  It spins in a circle and is really quite a nice piece of artwork.

A person might live their whole life and never make a single thing.  Typically it is left to only a few people to produce the lion’s share of all of the things that we as humans hold dear, all of the things we celebrate.  Perhaps it is selfish, a way of having control over something, a way of steering just one thing, bending one thing to your will.  Perhaps the creators are striving for a way to stop and hold the world in their own hands for one instant in time; to look at something they have made and know that it is good.

Few days are as beautiful as this one proved to be.  The sky was clear in the morning.  The air was not overly cold, nor was it too hot.  This being a Wednesday I could take my time getting to the bus.  So when Chimi invited me to stop and have coffee, I only had reasons for saying “po,” yes.  Starting yesterday, and for the next week or so it seems, Chimi’s family will be distilling Raki.  I am fascinated by processes, how it is that things are made.  When Homa asked me if I wanted to try some Raki, she knew the answer.  As a missionary I am not permitted consume alcohol.

Raki is made from grapes and is what we would call “moonshine” in the States.  As I lifted a glass of the flawlessly clear liquid to take in its aroma, Chimi’s son-in-law Milliard leaned in close and said “One raki, everyday, make the doctor go away.”  That made me laugh, and wonder if our saying about apples and dentists had been derived from an early advertisement ploy by the producers of whiskey, snake-oil, or other poisons.  After draining a thick cup of Turkish coffee with my friends I headed on to the bus-stop.  Turkeys and chickens crowded the path up the hill which has become muddy in recent days, after having been as dry as Utah salt plains for nearly three months.

Once in Fushekruje, while passing one of the dozens of cafes that line the sidewalks there, I was invited to join Vinny; the only son of one of the local market owners.  We were soon joined by a cousin from his father’s side of the family; a young man named Riza.  Vinny and I have never had a proper conversation before, aside from the general “Hello, how are you, good?  Me too, goodbye,” that plagues the lips of acquaintances all over the world.  I won’t divulge what he shared with me except to say that tragedy strikes every family in some form.  My life has been easy.

And it has been a beautiful life, really.  I praise God to be healthy, as I am, and to have all of the functions of my body which I enjoy so much.  But even if all I had were my eyes to tell me that God was amazing, today would be proof enough to give me calm reverence for His care.

Across the Adriatic sea from Albania, 8 hours by ferry boat, is Italy.  Paul preached in both of these parts of the world while spreading the message of Jesus during the first years of the Church’s existence.  The Church in Albania was all but eradicated over a 500 year persecution by Ottoman authorities.  Christianity fared little better during the reign of the Communists who took control after the Turks quit their empire.  Although the nation has been open to missionaries since the early 90s, it wasn’t until 2005 that the first missionaries from the Italian Church started seeking ways to serve the Lord here.

Last week the Bible School in Sauk hosted a team of 13 missionaries from Rome.  Among them were Norman and Leda, two amazing people with golden hearts and bright, bright spirits.  The rest of the team was excellent as well, but these two quickly took up the work of translating my words to the group and through that we formed fast friendships.  Norman lived for 4 years in England.  Leda is fluent or near as such in Albanian, English, Italian and Spanish.  My heart is full with admiration for the two of them.  Their group left to return to Italy on Monday.

Monday evening I was invited to attend a dinner with another small contingent of Italian Christians.  Pastor Gezim from Durres has a gift for networking.  He and his wife have sown the seeds of friendship with countless members of the Evangelical Church in Italy.  Yester-evening we broke bread at a restaurant/hotel in Durres; Albania’s largest coastal city.  I sat across the table from Davidi.  I didn’t catch the names of the other two men.  Davidi was kind enough to teach me how to say some basic words in Italian: bicchiere, cucchiaio, forcella, acqua.  He has a good spirit as well and always seemed to be smiling.

Also joining us from Italy were Terry and Marsha Peretti.  These two have been serving in Italy for 36 years (as I typed that out just now it occurred to me that I will be 36 years old this coming December).  They are from the Seattle area originally and got their start in ministry by planting a church in Vashon Island in the early 70s.  It made for interesting conversation over dinner as some people, like me, are only fluent in one language where as most of the people I was with are fluent in two.  Not a single person there spoke all three, however.

It is an honor to sit at any table which has been set by God.  This strange combination of fellow Christians, these many faces of God’s children; who can say what God has in store for them today or in a year?  Who but God would host a dinner such as this?

It is my hope that an experience I had on Sunday will illustrate one of the beliefs I hold close; a belief which in many ways guides my steps.  I want to begin by fast-forwarding to the present and giving no notes on the countless things that had to transpire just-so in order that I would be here at this very place in this very time.  My church in Fushekruje had about 10 people in attendance on my first visit in April.  One of those people was Fatjon, a person who spoke more English than anyone else.  He and I fostered a friendship and I eventually met his family in early June.  Soon after, his father came to work for us on the church project.

Sajmir came to his first church service back in mid July for the sake of honoring me.  I remember at the end of the service while a group of us were standing around talking, Sajmir came up to me and asked if he was free to leave.  I wondered if he would visit the church again or if he had only come as a way to check something off of a list of things he “had” to do.

Sajmir has come a few more times to share fellowship and to listen to a word from the pastor.  Two weeks ago he came with his entire family.  We had many visitors that day; attending church was the only way to receive free school books from us.  After the service Sajmir met the Plagenhoefs.  Pastor Kurt expressed his pleasure at how work on the church project was progressing, and Sajmir extended an invitation to join him in his home for coffee.  Coffee with Sajmir would have to wait until another day and part of me wondered if the invitation would be forgotten.  Often times an invitation such as this is merely a courtesy and, once kindly refused, is never offered again.

The next time I saw Sajmir, he asked me if Pastor Kurt had mentioned a time to come for a visit.  He asked me again the next time we saw each other, and Fatjon would ask me too.  I made a special request that we all make a visit last week while the Plagenhoefs were in Fushekruje on other business, but that did not work out.  Yesterday we were finally able to make time, and I couldn’t have asked for a better composed delegation than the one we had on hand.  Ervis and I had been to Sajmir’s before.  Also were Pastor Kurt, Pastor Alban, and Pastor Alban’s father; a man who had never been to the church in Fushekruje before yesterday.  

Sajmir’s receiving room had as many guests as he had seats.  We stayed long enough to enjoy two courses of refreshments and try two of the sweet foods his wife had made out of figs from the trees in their yard.  Alban’s father told many jokes and funny stories, none of which I could understand fully.  The mood was lite and joyful.  As we were preparing to leave, saying our goodbyes and well-wishes, I made eye contact with Sajmir.  I have never seen him so happy before.  All of the anxiety I had had quit me in that moment.  I was reminded once again of how good the care of God is and how richly prepared our lives are for us.  Thanks be to God.