As excited and encouraged as I felt at the end of the day yesterday, it was no surprise for me to be as sore as I was this morning.  I did a web search to find that it is my aductor magna which hurt the most.  Tomorrow we will be placing more concrete, about four times the amount we placed on Monday, and so my aductor magna should have another opportunity to perform beyond their accustomed workload.  I want to capitalize on the presence of Sajmir in the most impactful way possible and do not intend to slow the pace of work while he is on site.

In construction, you will happen upon a person with enough experience in a given area to simply adapt the principles they have come to know to the project at hand; like a bird adapts to a sudden updraft.  Today Sajmir had me cutting the rebar he would then use to tie into the cages he designed for our walls and columns.  I would come back to him and tell him that I had completed the last task he had given me, at which time he would get a distant look in his eyes as he calculated in his mind what size components he would require next.  I have always enjoyed carrying the water for a master.

Mustafa and Mosi also flourished today through Sajmir’s expertise, and his steady, quiet, tireless approach to work.  Mustafa and Mosi’s oldest brother will be joining us tomorrow to lend a hand with the concrete mixing; it should be a day friendship, foundation, and strength building.  These projects give us an opportunity to be a part of something beautiful, the legacy of which will outlive us all.

Today was perfect.  I am so encouraged by how my team at church handled the introduction of a new person to the mix.  Before starting work this morning, Sajmir’s only credential was my word.  For Barry, Mondi, Mosi, Mustafa, Cleon, Robin and everyone else, my word was enough.  Sajmir impressed even me today, getting more work accomplished than I would have thought possible.

Hard work, when performed within circles where that sort of thing is appreciated, fosters a nearly instant rapport.  Over the course of the day, Mustafa and Mosi went from being skeptical and cautious observers of Sajmir, to being proactive participants in his madness.  At day’s end, when I told Mosi “Ti je shum puntor sot,” (you were a great worker today) I could see in his face that he was proud to have been a part of what the four of us had done.  Nothing builds young men like taking on the challenge of working shoulder-to-shoulder with a master, and having what it takes to make it through the day.

I really loved the feel of the job-site today.  Each man had the chance to participate in the craft of something lasting, something substantial, something good.  Each man had the chance to give voice to ideas and concerns, and to be heard whether right or wrong.  I rarely work as hard physically as I did today, and I can not wait to begin work again tomorrow.

Whenever I agree to do what I feel is right, as opposed to what I in my selfishness would choose, I am blessed.  A few days ago, my friend Etmira asked if I would escort her to her church in Durrës on Sunday.  It is not entirely unsafe for young women to travel alone, but two are always safer than one in any context.  I agreed, and this morning we set out from the college a little after 8AM.  By 10AM, we had arrived.  In short order every seat in the place was full.  While surveying the gathered crowd, I noticed a friend I have not seen since my last visit to Skopje.

My friend Dardajan, has been serving as a missionary in Macedonia since June of 2012.  I had not known that Durrës was his home church, or that he was back in Albania for a conference.  We gave each other a good, strong hug, and talked a bit before the service began.  He sat next to me to translate Pastor Gëzim’s message.  After church, Etmira and her family took me out for a coffee.  Dardajan also came with his mother, whom I had not met before.  At the conclusion of our time at the kafe, my friends and I took the fugon back to Tirana together.

On our way back into the city, we were able to discuss some of the aspects of Albanian culture.  I had some theories about the bus and how people on the bus behave towards the man who collects their bus fare.  Dardajan’s interpretation of the events I described was different from mine in almost every way.  I wonder what kinds of observations he would make during a visit to the States.  I wonder what kinds of blessings his observations of my world would bring.

The kafe was my office today.  Across the street from the International Church is the lokal Pastarella.  It is clean, and well-lit with a working toilet; a man should never want for more.  Visi and Fatjon came into Tirana early so that we might discuss the pending work at the church in Shkozë.  Visi wants to go there with Ylli some time next week in order to get a better feel for what needs to be done.  They walked through the two work sites I am associated with at the International Church, just long enough for Visi to express his disapproval for how the work is proceeding.  When a friend’s word’s lack generosity, you can be assured of his honesty.  We parted ways with hugs and the small head-taps which are customary amongst friends; and I was off to my next meeting.

I met Sajmir at Sahati Tiranës at 12:15.  We walked to his favorite qofte place for some lunch on the way back to the church, where we enjoyed some good conversation.  Today was the first day that he and I were without Fatjon, our translator.  Not having a translator is like riding a bike without training wheels.  At first it is a little unnerving, but then you figure out that the worst thing that could possibly happen is a scraped knee or a bruised ego.  We communicated famously before long and were able to put together a plan for him to come and work with me on the foundation project next week.

Sajmir gave me a list of necessary materials, which we were then able to communicate to Mondi, bringing me to meeting number three.  Mondi is the man I go to when I need gravel or framing lumber, wood screws or paint.  He is Pastor Barry’s Albanian counterpart at the International Church.  We have quickly grown to like each-other over the past month.

Finally I had to clear my plan for moving ahead with Pastor Barry himself.  I am excited to have Sajmir’s intelligence, strength, experience, and drive at my disposal again.  He and I plan to have coffee this coming Monday in the morning to discuss the day’s work.  I think that together we will be able to light a fire under this project.  He will deliver the boost we are in need of.

Fatjon’s father and I met in June of 2012.  Fatjon had been my interpreter a few times, and we had already become friends of a sort.  When I met Fatjon’s family at the “Children’s Day,” celebration in Fushe Kruje, I had no idea how dear each member would eventually be to me.  Both of Fatjon’s parents and his sister came to church last Sunday.  Sajmir spoke in front of the congregation to say how happy he was to have me back in Albania, and what a blessing our friendship has been to him.  I told him that when I could, I would come to his house for a coffee.  Today was that day.

I have noticed that it is easier to be busy than it is to have time.  No one is truly so busy that they can not visit a friend in their home, unless they choose that busyness out of vanity, fear, or some other anti-value.  Like exercise, spending time with people who love you is good for your mind, soul, and body.  Like exercise, spending time with people who love you is one of the habits it is most difficult to keep.  If it is selfish to be and to feel loved, then by all means be selfish.  There is something about America that is broken if we are not encouraged culturally to connect deeply over time and to invest in people.  People are the most valuable things in this world.

As always, President Barack Obama himself would not have felt or been more welcome than I in the home of Sajmir and his family.  Sajmir embraced me and stroked my hair as we hugged each-other hello.  I was given the seat of honor, furthest from the door.  Time passed with the pleasantries first of enjoying Turkish coffee and some Derby brand cola drinks.  About an hour and a half into the visit Sajmir’s wife asked if I would like to eat.  Thirty minutes later I was enjoying a delightful, small feast; far more than any man has a right to consume.

Before leaving, I was invited to stay the night.  Had I said yes to that I would have been given fresh clothes to sleep in and fresh clothes in the morning, a sumptuous breakfast, and many more hours of fellowship.  I declined.  When I wake up anywhere but Sauk, the entire day serves as an apology for my ill-preparedness.  There may come a time, however, when the floor of my friend’s house feel’s like home to me; a change I would gladly welcome.

Over the centuries, with empires as its tax base, the Christian Church was able to build monstrous and gaudy structures; adorned with the finest art work and toil craft to be found in the known world.  Houses of God were drafty halls of gold, marble-faced, echoing tombs, sun and candle-lit mausoleums; commemorating the Body of a sickly faith.  In communities where starvation and slavery were commonplace, it is unfathomable that a Jesus God would have wanted the wealth of the world to be put to such uses.

Fast forward to today.  In Albania there are little pocket churches in many of the communities in and around major cities.  An acquaintance of mine named Pastor Brewer oversees two of these churches.  We visited one today on the road from Tirana to Mount Dajti.  The church is a simple 4 x 5 meter, rectangle constructed of cinder-blocks which have been finished and painted on the inside and allowed to sit, raw to the elements, on the outside.  There is mold in the dropped, press-board ceiling from water intrusion.  A single door and two windows provide light from without while two light bulbs hang from the ceiling, suspended by the electrical wires which bring the bulbs their power.

As we walked around the site, and Norm asked me what I thought needed to be done to improve the building, I noticed the affluence throughout the rest of the neighborhood.  The lowest structure of them all is this church.  It is so obviously a house of God, for who would travel to such a place by choice, except to commune with something divine and inspiring?  Who would dress in finery, only to have it soiled on the journey, that they might sit in a cramped, drafty, unfinished space for two hours on their day off, if it did not bring them life?

The blessing of friendship has been a constant in my life since late 2008.  A person I loved a great deal had told me that I was not good with people, and that I did not have enough friends.  That was the catalyst for me to change the person I allowed others to see.  There were many good things to come out of that break-up.  And after work today, I reaped another benefit of answering the challenge to be kinder, warmer, to show people that I value them, and to make love a habit.

Last Fall I attended a conference in Macedonia.  While I was there I met around one-hundred people, a dozen or so I still have some contact with.  Dan Hillman helps his friend Jeff run a Christian indoor climbing gym called Rock Tirana.  After going there a few Saturday’s ago, I decided to invite the students from the college to take a field trip there with me.  I was pleased and surprised by the response.  Ten students put on their workout clothes, got on the bus in Sauk, and met me at the International Church to capitalize on an invitation to a new experience.  

After a slow start, with most of the people feeling either frightened of the height of the walls or self-conscious about how they might appear, the students really embraced the challenge and the fun of climbing.  Every person completed one route at the minimum with many going back time and again to try and complete a route which was especially challenging.  I think Nardi and Paridi tried an inverted V1 twelve times a piece.  Never showing signs of discouragement, neither was able to reach the top.  I have every admiration for this kind of heart and resilience in my friends.  

Although I could never have known in 2008 what God had planned for me in Albania; I am thankful for every broken moment of that time.  I have a great life now, a life I would not have chosen, a life I can not imagine being without.

You are not the author of life, nor are you the author of your life.  Your family was grafted into your physical and mental make-up.  Your nation is much older than you know.  The language you speak has been shaped and dented, honed, shattered, and reforged by countless wars and emigrations as it came to where you speak it today; somewhere en-route.  For all that you are, some large, unknown percentage was never going to be yours to choose.

Here you are.

What if you were the co-author?

You know how to write and have been given access to pen and parchment; key and screen.  What if you could graft into yourself a new family, even the family of God?  What if you could learn to speak the language of acting on the convictions of a timeless wisdom?  You could be the first to jot down notes on this language in your place.  You are heading in some direction.  What if you are the rudder?  The designer of the ship, you will never be, but the instrument to guide it for the good you choose; that you can be.

You are fortunate, my friend.  All of the days in history have led to this single moment; this one squeeze and exhale of blood within the muscle your ribs stand vigil over.  You have everything you will ever need to be a timeless part of God’s story; and you are making your choice even now.

I went to church in Fushe Kruja this morning.  Nardi, Hektor and Neda wanted to go and visit also, and so the four of us traveled together.  It was a complete reversal of roles from April of last year when Pastor Alban had to meet me in the center to guide me to Zogu I Zi.  This morning I was the one leading the Albanians to our destination.  My friend Agim was at the fugon station and was able to set us up with a ride into Fushe Kruja without delay.  

We arrived early enough to have coffee with Visi, Fatjon, and our friend Koli.  Afterward, Visi insisted on paying for everyone; a cultural tradition which I no longer attempt to argue against.  Church today was held on the seventh floor of one of the tallest buildings in town.  I don’t know why our venue keeps changing.  The view was nice, and the vantage offered some perspective on the city we serve.  Hector led the worship this morning; he has a great enthusiasm for music and a huge heart for God.

Including visitors, there were over 40 people in the service today, which is more than I have ever seen before.  This community of church-goers is united and poised to make a huge impact on the city.  I am especially looking forward to seeing where God takes the lives of the young men over the course of the next few years.  Teenagers are so easily warped or broken.  I am thankful that this group has the creator of all things watching over them.

The sky looking out from the window of my apartment was indescribably beautiful this morning.  Having lived in the Seattle area for most of my life, I am acquainted with clouds.  The Albanian Alps have a way of turning suspended moisture into rich, shifting tapestries.  I have only seen clouds like these in Albania and they alone are reason enough to visit this place.  How awesome is the Creator of all of this?

At the International Church in Tirana we had a full crew today.  Robin brought Phil, his father-in-law, who is visiting from Scotland.  Cleon was back to lend a hand painting.  The church was relatively busy with people coming and going.  I of course had Mosi and Mustafa to help in the area we are excavating.  We should have removed enough material by Tuesday of next week to start building the forms for, and setting the rebar for the first run of footing.  The next step is always right where we need it to be.

I have many reasons to be thankful after a day like this one.  I was in harm’s way for much of the time, yet I was not injured and, more importantly, I did not injure anyone.  On at least two occasions I have only God to thank for this.  In the States we would have thousands of dollars in equipment to aid in the process of taking apart this structure.  Here we are blessed to have whatever we can find to aid us.  Most everything can be described in Albania in a single word: precious.

Things are precious because they tend to be irreplaceable here.  Our sledge hammer is a steel cylinder welded on the end of a steel shaft which has also been welded out of two pieces of steel; where would we be without it?  The spades at the end of our shovels are so thin that the metal bends as they make contact with the ground; the pick-axe is for excavating and the shovels are only for scooping the loose dirt.  I ordered a 4×8 yesterday, a common nominal piece of lumber.  What was delivered was a single member composed of two pieces of 2×8 sandwiched and then screwed together; it is now an essential part of my shoring for the frame of the building.  I would have discarded all of these things if I could have replaced them with something better.

I am beginning to understand.