Passion greetings felt in

The heart hand grasps

Hand pulling brother close

Enough to press stubble

Into the side of

Your face

Looking to the eyes

Now the other side

Leaning back away hands

Remain locked perhaps another

Hand reaching up for

The shoulder

You love me I 

Know that you hope

We will soon be

Saying hello this way

Beginning another conversation over

A table packed tightly

With food

Today I shared photographs of my family with some of the female students here.  Nella, Elisiana, Hana, Diksierta and Etmira all agreed: my sister Anne is shume bukur.  Flipping through photos of last Christmas in Arizona, it hadn’t occurred to me how taken they would all be with her.  My little brother has been movie-star handsome since he was two years old.  But with Anne, it was like they were watching fire-works.  There would be a lull as I went through photos of everyone else, including myself, but as soon as a picture of Anne was on my screen there were audible reactions as well as the more than occasional finger reaching out to point.  You have fans in Albania little sister.  You should be proud, the women here are beautiful. 

I have been missing my family, and missing my church family lately.  I would love to have a few hundred of you move here, if that is a possibility.  I miss Greg Vammen’s laugh, Mary Cowin’s words, and Matt and Charity Weitkamp’s smiles.  I want a hug from Jim Killet.  I want Pastor Bill to look at me and open one half of his mouth while raising his eyebrows to say “You talk to the guy about that thing?  We need to get that taken care of.”  I want to see Dana and Leigh Nunn beam as their son Jack stuffs his hands into his mouth.  I miss the Rohrbach sisters.  I want to see Brynn and Matt looking like two freshly-ironed-million-dollar bills; Cody Rieff on the drums, Wookie on bass; my mom and dad in the nursery; the Roots everywhere at once.

This Sunday or next, I would be honored to know that you gave my folks a hug and said “this is from your son.” 

When I was a kid, we would watch Family Ties and The Cosby Show every Thursday night.  After my little brother and sister got older, once I was in high school, this tradition was moved to Fridays and replaced with “pizza movie night.”  I was reminded of all that pizza can do to bring people together tonight.  The Italian students treated forty of us to hand-made pie from the heartland.  Out of forty people, there were forty smiling faces.  Out of many pies, not a single piece was wasted; and all were satisfied to an American degree.  As I’m writing this, I can hear the residual of the celebratory atmosphere of this meal.  Chimey, the guard, extended out curfew by thirty minutes, and there are shouts of joy and disappointment emanating from the Foosball and Ping Pong table area, one floor below my bedroom.

I wish you were here.

Things were still to soggy to break any ground in Fushekruje today.  Instead, I caught a ride with Kreshnik to the police station in Tirana.  He needed to settle a ticket for getting into a fender-bender yesterday.  I was able to experience a different part of the city, and I think I’m starting to stand out less than before.  All of the police officers we met seemed completely disinterested in me.  It seems odd that there is less than a twenty-four hour turn around for hearing traffic cases and settling disputes in Tirana.  Maybe I am witnessing efficient government, but how would I know?

I spent the rest of the day wrapping up a paper for school and working on the outline of another paper.  All of my coursework is due on June 8th, and then I will be done with my degree.

Thank you everyone for walking with me through this wonderful time.  We are truly blessed to serve our God.  As far along as we must be toward the eschaton, God is by no means winding things down in the missions field.  His purpose for you and for me is beyond our ability to conceive.  We are living in the age of Stephen, James, Mary, Paul, Barnabas and Peter.  Their story is our story.  Goodnight.

When deciding what I ought to bring with me to Albania, I shot from the hip.  The only things I brought which are work-out/fitness related were a pair of sparring/bag gloves, a pair of swim trunks and a small, black, plastic apparatus for strengthening my grip.  Tirana has gyms, but I don’t think I will be joining one.  I have never enjoyed running, and there isn’t really any place to go swimming.  I am by no means a fitness fanatic, but I like to stay in shape.

Etmira asked me to give her a hand this afternoon, changing out the propane gas cylinder for one of the stoves in the khuzina.  In the basement of this place is a utility room where things of this kind are kept.  It is clean and dry and rarely visited; an ideal place to work out.  Once I had accomplished Etmiras task for me, I went back down to the utility room to try something.

If you are ever travelling, and you have access to an empty 25 pound propane cylinder, you can accomplish quite a few exercises.  I am certain that Darrick Bourgeois could take this to an entirely superior level, but this will get your heart going.  Grasp the cylinder at the top and bottom with one hand, like you would hold a pair of cymbals.  Standing with your feet about shoulder-width apart, suck in your gut to stabilize your core.  Curl the cylinder to between 90 and 135 degrees.  Squat down allowing your butt to make contact with the floor, rolling backward until the back of your head lightly touches the floor.  Roll forward in a smooth motion using the weight of the cylinder to bring you back onto your feet.  Stand up and extend your arms, bringing the cylinder above your head in a military press.  Return the cylinder to your starting, relaxed position with your arms extended.

One.

After ten of these, I could feel the blood pumping.  For anyone reading this who is in shape, once you get control of your laughter, feel free to do twenty or thirty of these just to show me up. Tonight I started with three sets of ten, giving myself about a minute interval between. You have to start somewhere.

Today we met in Fushekruje.  Kurt, Stephanie, Alban, Visy and I went over some of the plan specifics with the architect, general contractor, and the man who will be hooking up our power to the city grid.  It has been raining for the last two days, which precludes us from digging trenches for drain systems or performing any outdoor concrete related tasks.

I laughed a lot tonight.  I feel like I get included in everything.  I am part of the family here, and the people have dropped their guard around me and gotten back to living normally.  I feel honored to say that.  I hope you visit me, you would like it here.

One option for transport back to Tirana.

A tired missionary on the bus.

Game of dominoes in the park.

Shopkeeper’s evening meal.

One of my neighbors.

A woman at the Bible School I am living at gave me this verse last week.  It is a joy to share verses in the Bible which you find to be particularly helpful or inspiring.  As an exercise; trade a passage of scripture with your spouse, child or loved one.  As a caution: this should not be done for the sake of correcting how the other person is living.  The Bible is a book for correcting oneself, not one’s neighbor.  Use this practice to give insights to your own perceptions of your partner’s strengths or to your own weaknesses.

Please follow me now by reading Psalm 84.  It will only take a few minutes.

Know now, that I am the sparrow who has found a home.  In the house that I am dwelling in, the people are ever praising the LORD.  For those who don’t know me, I love the quiet.  I think part of what drew me to swimming as a child was the 30 second bursts in the clear with nothing but the hum of a pool-light, a heater, or Jacuzzi jets to keep your mind occupied.  It is so very nice under there.  Try and talk, or try and hear what someone outside is saying; impossible.  If I could hold my breath forever, I might just swim alone to the deepest parts of this worlds great oceans.  I do dream about this.

So it may surprise you to know that I am now drawn from my apartment on the third floor to the din of the second floor’s nightly ruckus.  I found this evening to be especially delightful.  Paridi and Tony were teaching each-other some acoustical guitar tricks.  Nella, Bruna, Petrit and Guiseppe were battling it out over Foosball.  David, Mimy, Risa, and Luka were having an impressive round of Ping-Pong.  Dixcierta and Etmira were in the kitchen preparing the evening meal.  Hana, Tina, Tina’s son David and Blarim were studying this week’s coursework.  Half a dozen other Italian students were dispersed about, going over things on their laptops.  I was reading a book for school.  And as I took a moment to reflect on what was going on I realized “Better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere; I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked.”  I loved tonight, I thank God for tonight.  An evening like this would be beyond my ability to design or even to improve upon; and It happened as a natural consequence of a group of people who love God coming together to share fellowship.

I visited the U.S. Embassy in Tirana today to sort out some residency paperwork.  If you ever have a chance to go there, skip it.

In college I did not believe in religion.  I did not believe that religion was anything more than a construct to prop up the powerful; to help them maintain their power over those who had less wealth.  I can remember giving a friend of mine a gift of money for Christmas during that time.  He said “Thanks Josh.  This is an answer to prayer.”

“I’ve never been an answer to prayer before,” I responded.  Part of me was being glib, but inside I was contemplating what it might mean if I really were unknowingly being the conduit through which a prayer to God was being answered.

About a week ago I finally got to meet the head of missions here, Kurt Plagenhoef.  He told me that his pastor in Fushekruje had been anticipating my arrival with a great deal of excitement; that he had been praying for someone to come and be his partner in helping the church to grow.  “O.K.,” I thought.  “I am Alban’s guy.”

Yesterday was the celebration of the 20th anniversary of the International Church in Tirana.  It is officially called the International Protestant Assembly of Tirana.  There was Christian music over a speaker system in Vila Park, not far from the artificial lake there.  After spending some time in fellowship and getting reacquainted with half-a-dozen or so people I remembered from church last Sunday, it was time to get to work.  Alban and I caught the bus from Tirana to Fushekruje, to help get the church ready for today.

Alban with his wife and son in Vila Park on Saturday.

Alban and I linked up with Ervis in Fushekruje for a three hour meeting.  We were acting as part of a committee which is in the planning process for a small festival; which will be held in that town on June 1st.  Afterward we went to the current church meeting place and demolished some furniture in order to salvage the metal for scrap.

This morning I was again to work with Alban.  Starting at 7:30 I began the four-bus relay to Fushekruje.  Alban preached from Romans chapter 10 and Acts chapter 1 verse 8.  I also spoke.  After church was over a woman asked specifically for me to prayer for the healing of her hands.  I prayed, and she was grateful, but her hands were not healed.  After church about ten of us worked for the rest of the day moving things from that place to Bashkim’s house nearby.

The moving crew: Ervis, Bashkim, Fatjim, Ali and Alban.

The six of us shared suflatche and cola after finishing up.  I had the honor of talking with each of these men for a good amount of time.  Fatjim and Ali speak the best English besides Alban himself.  All of the people of Fushekruje Church have a heart for Jesus, prayer, and service.  It will be exciting to see how God answers prayer through them in the days and years to come.

On the bus-ride home, between nodding in and out of sleep, Alban and I shared some fellowship of our own.  He gave me the silver ring from his right hand.  Stamped into the metal are two words: PRAY HARD.  Please pray for us.

Ever since I arrived in Albania I’ve found it easier to make decisions.  Take this evening for instance.  My friends and I stopped in at the farmaci where I told the clerk “mirëmbrëma,” before making the international sign for “ear-plug.”  The clerk, understanding with a grunt, promptly produced a clear, plastic cylinder of one-hundred cotton swabs.  “Yo, yo,” I said giving the international sign for “I’m going to wear these when I try to go to sleep.”  A pair of ear-plugs appeared on the counter.  The price tag read 250.

Now I have to caution you when you come to Albania.  There is old Lek and there is new Lek.  Prices are often given in old Lek, but you are expected to know that, and to pay one-tenth of that price in new Lek.

For example: the first time I went to the market by myself I picked out six eggs, a foot-long sausage, and about a kilogram of apples.  The lady behind the desk showed me the price: 3600.  “O.K.,” I thought, “seems expensive, but what do I know?”  I handed her four new 1000 Lek bills.  Her husband smiled at my mistake as the woman said “Yo,” and handed me back three of the four bills.  I also received a five-hundred Lek bill with a coin for 100 and two 20 Lek coins.  I had an immediate appreciation for her honesty.

So, was I being asked to pay 250 old Lek or 250 new Lek for a single pair of ear-plugs?  I produced a 100 Lek coin and placed it on the counter.  “Yo,” the clerk said and then she showed me a 200 Lek bill with a 50 Lek coin to serve as my example.  Call me Scottish, but I thanked her for her time and exited the store at a measured pace.

Other examples of decision making are more clear-cut.  My next stop was at a small market.  “Si thuhet…?” I began before giving the international sign for “underarm deodorant.”  The clerk stepped from behind the cash register and presented my options: two products total; one for men, the other for women.  I could get used to shopping like this.

Inspired perhaps with the knowledge that I have reached the magic mark of 92.75 kilograms of weight, I stopped in at the berber in Sauk on my way home.  I have never received a hair-cut abroad before.  I’m going to put the young stylist at 19 years old.  He worked quickly to bring my flokë to its proper shape.  If the United States Army has a soccer team, I think I’m now officially their mascot.  So far only the women at school have laughed at my new style, which I’m interpreting as a positive indicator.  I have decided to buy into the myth that women are attracted to men who can make them laugh.