As a one-time aspiring politician (granted I was in high school), I have long believed in the privilege and responsibility to vote. When I think of my Albanian friends who have only had this privilege for the last 16 years, it makes me appreciate this even more today…

However, I’ve also long believed that the government cannot change hearts. Therefore, it is limited in what it can accomplish. No laws or economic policies or health care initiatives can provide the “audacity of hope” that God alone can provide! This is why when I became a Christian, my political aspirations began to die a slow death and my loyalties moved to a much wiser authority! As I’ve gotten older, I find myself believing more in more in the power of the church and less in less in the power of the government or it’s leaders.

No matter who you vote for tomorrow, remember these words by the author of Jesus for President,

“WHAT IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN HOW WE VOTE ON NOV.4 IS HOW WE LIVE ON NOV. 3 AND NOV. 5. WE VOTE EVERYDAY WITH OUR FEET, OUR HANDS, OUR LIPS, AND OUR WALLETS…ULTIMATE CHANGE DOES NOT JUST HAPPEN ONE DAY EVERY FOUR YEARS.” –SHANE CLAIBORNE

AMEN!

One of the things we have seen more of during the month of Ramadan is drummers and musicians in the street.  They are beggars who are appealing to Muslims who give alms to the poor as one of the pillars of their faith, one way they can earn their way to heaven.   I took a picture of these men just outside of our gate.  You could hear them coming for 5 mintues before they arrived. 

We continue to pray for our Muslim friends who don’t know Christ and His hope!  Please pray that we would have opportnities to share about the hope we have in Jesus and to speaky BOLDLY! You can read more about Albanian Muslims here.

Today, I had the chance to share my testimony with Linda, our house helper.  You can read about how God has been working in her life and breaking our hearts over her need for Him on Jenny’s post earlier this week. Thank you for your prayers… they are paving the way for us to share the gospel!   Now you have to imagine that my speaking is still much like a 4 year old, but that IS better than the 2 year old that it was a few months ago!  (2 years in 3 months… that is what language learners call PROGRESS!)

Sharing your story can be hard but when Linda kept telling us that her mother-in-law has no heart, we saw it as an opportunity to share how my heart was empty before knowing Jesus.  Last night, Jenny and I were talking about how we have known each other for 20 years.  I was 15 and she was 16 when we met and first dated.  (Where did the time go?)  Jenny was sharing this with Linda who asked if we met in church.  In fact, we did, but I was not a Christian at the time.  I was an angry, hurting teenager who had just moved from the only home I had ever known when my dad lost his job in OK and our family moved to CO.  We started going to church and I saw this group of teens who had love and peace in their lives like none I had ever seen.  I wanted that… and God gave me peace and joy like I had never known.  Linda sees the joy… she talked about what she sees in Jenny – a big heart and love for others.  These were the few simple words that we shared with Linda today… pray that they plant more seeds that we can water tomorrow.

• bread store
• favorite suflaqe (fast food) place run by our friend Fredi
• favorite pizza place
• Matt and Cindy’s house
• Soda shop where the owner calls us by name
• Austin and Tyler’s bus stop

Presently, it looks like a war zone.  Over the years, people have built additions to existing buildings or built illegally outside of the zoning guidelines. In recent years, as progress mandates, the government has cracked down on these illegal buildings and torn them down as they prepare to widen and pave new roads. We can see the ultimate good in the development but it is a painful process. We have literally seen the front half of buildings torn down while people’s clothes are still hanging on the back of the door.  The day after the first wave of demolition, we saw a woman crying on the street as she surveyed the damage to her store, her family’s only source of income.

These were some of the first shots we took from our car. You can see the piles of rubble and people trying to clean up. Most buildings here lost the front 3 meters (yards) of their building.

Stay tuned this week as we show more of the progress and changes.

We went to visit Zydi’s family today in their home. It is customary when someone dies for the family to host visitors for coffee for the first seven days and repeat visits for a total of 40 days. We went to show our respect for Zydi and for his family and to express our condolences. Their gate has been open roughly 16 hours a day since the funeral.

When we entered the courtyard we were greeted by one of Zydi’s son and I (Jenny) was directed to the women’s room and Robert to the men’s room. In the 12′x12′ living room there were over 15 women, all dressed in black. There were 4 more ladies my age or younger in the the kitchen a space about 4′x6′ making coffee and other food preparations. Initially, the group did not know what to do with me. I don’t know any of these women well, and I have only seen Zydi’s wife a few times on the street and greeted her in my limited Albanian. I am sure they were wondering what to do with this American woman who has come to visit! I sat by Zydi’s wife and greeted those around me with my best offerings of sympathy in Albanian. I was served a little dessert cake (made with flour, honey, sugar and water- very thick and very sweet!) and did my best to converse a little in Albanian. I was asked questions about the children (no one can miss the 2 blond boys in the neighborhood and the Chinese baby) and of course WHY did you adopt from China. Adoption is such a foreign concept here, especially if you are able to have your own children. As we talked about adoption Zydi’s wife shared with me that she worked in the orphanage in Sauke (a village on the edge of Tirana) as a cook for many years. She now receives a pension from her years of service there. Our friends Bob and Kathy from Washington State are the house parents there. I asked who all the women were… all but one was a relative of some kind. Most live with in the three houses that are all attached across the road from us.

We stayed for about 15 minutes and then I excused myself since Robert had a meeting. I was in awe that we have acquired enough language to have these simple conversations and express our heart and love for people. Robert told me later that his room was more animated and conversation was harder to follow. Men are not as good as slowing down their conversation to accommodate a language learner. When he was finished with his coffee, he left 1000 lek on his cup (about $10). This is a custom to show respect for the family and help to pay for funeral and hosting expenses that they have in the coming days.

The seven days is the end of the first mourning period and any relatives from far away will now go back to their respective homes and come back on the 40th day. I am still unclear on all of the customs but I know that after 40 days I can go again for a visit with Jadyn, whom they all wanted to meet and see. Please be praying for their comfort and rest as we can only imagine the stress that is felt with the hosting of so many guests over many days as they are trying to grieve.

Last night our neighbor Zydi died. He was a sweet old man that lived across the street from us. He was 69. We did not know him well but he had done some work at our house and we had seen him frequently. Of all the people in our neighborhood, he was the quickest to smile and say hello. The funeral was this afternoon at 3pm. It was one of the most heartbreaking things I have ever experienced.

We gathered a few minutes before 3:00 with about 100 neighbors and family outside our gate in the street. Friends and family had been gathered in the home with an opportunity to view the body and say words to the family. The family rents a bus to transport people to the funeral if they do not have transportation. At exactly 3pm the casket is brought out to the hearse and people disperse to their cars or the bus. We just had the car fixed yesterday (a whole other blog story…) so we were able to take a few women who had been visiting the family in our car to the cemetery. (One woman was a neighbor who we have seen many times so it was good to be able to further build that relationship. We remain unclear who the other women who rode with us were. Our neighbor’s son told us who would ride with us but it was difficult to get the nature of all the relationships in our conversation). There were actually 2 buses needed for all the people who went to the burial in addition to the cars. It took 30 minutes to drive to the cemetery on the outskirts of town.

Once there, everyone streamed toward the grave site. There was very little talking among those gathered. The casket was set on the ground and a Muslim imam (holy man) said a ritual prayer. About 10 older men stood behind the imam also following some of the ritual prayer movements. Some we think were brothers or family members. No words were given to the family, no honoring of the life this man led, no comfort, no hope of something beyond the grave. In fact, the widow and many other women from the family were absent from the group. The casket was picked up and moved to the grave. Ropes were placed under and it was lowered into its place. Several other graves were dug around it waiting for the next person who might die today. I could not help but be saddened by the anonymity of it all. The sons and other friends and neighbors then removed the lid to the casket and placed cement blocks over the casket. The lid was returned to its place and dirt was piled on top. At last, one of his sons invited the whole group (over 150 by now) to a dreke (lunch) for guests. The family will pay for this extravagant meal that they can not afford for whoever will come. Not knowing the family that well and being that we still have such a language barrier we had decided we would not go to the lunch. Leaving the cemetery, the family, all male relatives (brothers and sons) formed a receiving line where we could shake our hands and offer our condolences. We only know 2 of the sons from our neighborhood. Several of the men were very emotional and clearly in shock. Remember that Zydi only died the night before.

We returned home with less passengers, in the crowd at the cemetery, we were separated from two of the ladies we brought. It was obvious they had already boarded the bus for the trip home so we went only with our one neighbor. She was so gracious in helping us understand customs and traditions. When we arrived back at the house, she took us to greet the women of the family and offer our condolences there. They were just leaving for the lunch so we had just a moment to offer words and hand shakes before they left. We were home at 4:05.

The whole process left both of us depleted and saddened. As the imam went through his ritual at the grave site, I was praying that God would redeem this land. Bring his HOPE and GLORY. Robert commented later that the overall emotion he noticed most at the funeral was apathy. There is nothing more for Albanians who do not have the hope of Jesus. There was an old pillbox military bunker left over from Communism in an area that at one time was not surrounded by grave sites. It is now abandoned and dilapidated, pressed in on all sides with grave sites and headstones. It was a symbol for us that communism is dead! The country that once declared itself as an atheist nation is no longer under the stronghold of a dictator who murdered those who called upon the name of Jesus. There is a hope we have that we can now share with our Albanian friends as we build relationships and have the blessing of serving them.