So I'm gonna get real in this update for a little bit. I've told y'all about all the good, happy things that have happened, so I guess it's only fair if I tell you some of my struggles too, right?
This week, and last week too, have been pretty hard. Because most of my friends are in high school, I spend a good bit of time at home without anything to do. I feel trapped by the language barrier so it's hard to communicate with anyone who doesn't have to put up with me (like my landlord, bless her soul). Even going to the store is hard because I don't always know the Albanian names for things (or more likely, Google Translate has told me the wrong thing).
The point is that I feel pretty useless right now. I've been having lots of days like today, where I know I probably won't have anywhere I need to be until 7 PM tonight for youth group.
You guys. I am so lonely. I did not come over here expecting everything to be sunshine and daisies, but I think it's different looking towards the future from my comfortable life in America and actually living here, where I can count the number of people I know on both hands.
I need your prayers. Please join me in praying that God will show me how he wants me to fill this time, because I know it isn't sitting here obsessively checking Facebook.
Friday, February 22, 2013
Thursday, February 21, 2013
American Things That I Miss
I'm not whining (well, maybe just a little).
I'm just having a craving for these:
These:
And this:
And also this guy.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Burek
I have a new favorite food.
This delicious little slice of heaven is called Burek. It is my new favorite food! It's like a pizza-shaped wedge of flaky, pastry-y, meat-and-oniony goodness dripping with grease and calories. I can literally feel my pants getting tighter with every bite I take. I have had to limit my burek intake, and have saved a copy of a picture of the dress I want to wear in my wedding to my desktop to look at for resistance powers when I am struck with the sudden urge to partake of this delicacy. Yep. It's THAT good.
Wednesday (my goodness, was that just yesterday?!) I had kind of a slow day, so I decided to watch a movie (AKA Pride and Prejudice, because that's the only one I have saved to my computer...Netflix doesn't work over here). The girls were all at school so my house was devoid of my posse, and I was laying in bed still in my pajamas at the ridiculous hour of 12 PM when my stomach let out a growl that would have even frightened Mufasa. I was like, "Okay, stomach, I guess I have to get up and feed you now." But I didn't really want to get up, and I kept telling myself that at the end of the next scene I would get up and make lunch. And when I DID finally get up to make lunch, I had just put my feet on the floor when the voice of an angel came floating up the stairs, calling my name.
...Okay. Not really an angel. But it WAS my landlord, and when she calls up the stairs at me, it usually means that she either has coffee or food for me (or sometimes both!).
Y'all. She had burek. And not the kind you buy from the store, either; this was real, honest-to-goodness, homemade burek.
It was heavenly. I wish I had a picture of it, but it was so good that I devoured it before I thought to take a picture!
Storebought burek can be kind of lukewarm sometimes; sometimes the onions in it are a bit overpowering, and let's face it--sometimes it's soggy. The warm, flaky crust on top more often than not is just a greasy, chewy layer of dough by the time I get from the bakery to my house, and the bits that ARE still crunchy are only crunchy because they're burned. But Shemcija's burek, well, it's like comparing the steaks at Waffle House to the steaks that my dad makes. As in, there is no comparison. It was still warm from the oven, and the top layer was just perfectly golden brown, and it wasn't soggy, AND it wasn't super greasy. She gave me an end piece so two sides were crispy crusty goodness, and it was filled with real, honest-to-goodness beef and not stray cat (because let's face it; with bakery burek sometimes it's better to not ask "qka mish eshte ky?", or "what meat is this?").
I never thought that God would teach me a spiritual lesson at the hands of a meat-filled pastry, but He did. I guess if Moses can receive a spiritual tongue-lashing from a burning bush it's no weirder than being spoken to by burek! I realized, after being given a piece of Shejma's burek, that life is a lot like a slice of burek! Day in and day out we eat our bakery burek, blissfully happy to be consuming something so stinkin' delicious. This burek is the only kind we've ever known, and to us it's perfect and beautiful and flawless and The Best Thing Ever.
And then, one day, someone gives us homemade burek. And we realize what God has been trying to give us, if we would just open our eyes and listen! And we cling stubbornly to our bakery burek, because that's what we know. But our eyes have been opened, and we realize what we are missing out on. We are settling for bakery burek (which we have to PAY for, by the way!) and all its oniony, greasy, chewy glory, and the Lord is standing at the bottom of the stairs calling our name and saying, "I made burek for you! Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk, without money and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare. Give ear and come to me; hear me, that your soul may live!" -Isaiah 55:1-3
...Really? I'm going to continue to eat chewy, greasy, stray cat pastry when I could have delicious, warm, crispy REAL burek? That stuff I was eating before was just a cheap imitation of the good stuff! And the Lord himself is calling my name, saying, "You silly girl! Open your eyes and just take the burek already!"
Clearly I'm not saying that once we accept Christ we will all be gifted with wonderful landlords who regularly bring us burek. But I AM saying that without Christ, we are living the bakery burek lifestyle. The things that we work and toil for--they are just a cheap imitation of what we will be and do once we have life in Christ, because we have died to sin, and to pastries stuffed with stray cats, and have become alive in Christ Jesus! How could I ever eat bakery burek ever again? If I eat the Lord's burek, my soul will live!
Eternal life? You can't argue with that!
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Kosovar Death Visit
What do you get when you cram three Americans, three Kosovar, and an Australian in a Subaru Forester?
A funeral!
Here in Kosovo, when someone passes away the members of the community visit the house of that person's family members in what is called a death visit. It was super interesting from a cultural standpoint, and totally intimidating from an "I-am-an-American-and-we-do-things-SOSOSOSOSO-much-differently-where-I-am-from" standpoint.
Here's how a death visit works:
You cram as many people into a car as possible (we did). Then you drive off toward the village of the deceased person. Generally you only know the village and the family name of the person who has died, but not which house they live on (and certainly not what street; roads here don't have names, or if they do they aren't marked. Pretty much as a rule neighborhood roads aren't even paved, much less named). When you get to the village, you drive around until you find the house with a chair sitting in front of it. Sometimes there are flowers on the chair, and sometimes not.
Men and women don't do death visits in the same house here, so you park the car and walk to your respective houses. People here are super, super weird about feet, so you take your shoes off at the door (and you MUST remember to wear socks, because you NEVER EVER go into someone's house barefooted. I guess you could, but they would look at you super weird and possibly would never invite you back).
Once inside, you must endure these looks:
A funeral!
Here in Kosovo, when someone passes away the members of the community visit the house of that person's family members in what is called a death visit. It was super interesting from a cultural standpoint, and totally intimidating from an "I-am-an-American-and-we-do-things-SOSOSOSOSO-much-differently-where-I-am-from" standpoint.
Here's how a death visit works:
You cram as many people into a car as possible (we did). Then you drive off toward the village of the deceased person. Generally you only know the village and the family name of the person who has died, but not which house they live on (and certainly not what street; roads here don't have names, or if they do they aren't marked. Pretty much as a rule neighborhood roads aren't even paved, much less named). When you get to the village, you drive around until you find the house with a chair sitting in front of it. Sometimes there are flowers on the chair, and sometimes not.
Men and women don't do death visits in the same house here, so you park the car and walk to your respective houses. People here are super, super weird about feet, so you take your shoes off at the door (and you MUST remember to wear socks, because you NEVER EVER go into someone's house barefooted. I guess you could, but they would look at you super weird and possibly would never invite you back).
Once inside, you must endure these looks:
The foreigners are here!
Staring is the national pastime (along with whistling at women in the street, but more on that later!) so these kinds of looks are pretty common. EVERYONE stares at me. Especially once they hear me speak in my broken Albanian and realize that I really am not from around here. I don't have the same skin tone or hair color as my Albanian friends, so it's pretty easy to pick me out of a crowd, keq Shqip (bad Albanian) notwithstanding.
Then you must shake everyone's hand. This is crucial. Albanians (if you're wondering why I switch back and forth between "Albanians" and "Kosovar," it's because the people here are ethnically Albanian but are from Kosovo. Ethnically I am Caucasian; by country I am American. Capiche?) Albanians are HUGE hand shakers. When an Albanian walks into a room, the first thing they will do is shake everyone's hand (and I mean EVERYONE. When I go to church, I probably shake fifty hands. I try to beat everyone there so I don't have to find people). SO. You shake the hand of everyone in the room, but there's an important order to follow, starting with the closest family member of the deceased and then on down the line.
Then you sit for ten or fifteen minutes, sipping on Coke or water or tea or whatever else they hand you. You get some more stares. Like this one:
Then you shake everyone's hand again and make your getaway. You cram all your friends back into the car and head for home. Good times.
All the women were wearing white headcoverings, but Google didn't know what I was talking about when I tried to find an example so I have no pictures to show y'all what I mean. We (Wrenn, Lisa, and I) were the only ones without our heads covered, and at first I thought we had committed some huge cultural faux pas, but then I learned that only blood relatives and close friends of the deceased cover their heads.
It really was an experience! It's so interesting to see what things are done differently in America (like dating, but that's another post for another day). Being here has really made me realize what a little bubble I live in, and it's also made me a whole lot more aware of the other SEVEN BILLION people on this planet. They don't all live in America! They don't all go to funeral homes when someone passes away! They drink milk that doesn't have to be refrigerated until opened, and eat a loaf of bread a day! It's just really awesome to get to experience this other culture--what a blessing!
Then you sit for ten or fifteen minutes, sipping on Coke or water or tea or whatever else they hand you. You get some more stares. Like this one:
Or this one!
Then you shake everyone's hand again and make your getaway. You cram all your friends back into the car and head for home. Good times.
All the women were wearing white headcoverings, but Google didn't know what I was talking about when I tried to find an example so I have no pictures to show y'all what I mean. We (Wrenn, Lisa, and I) were the only ones without our heads covered, and at first I thought we had committed some huge cultural faux pas, but then I learned that only blood relatives and close friends of the deceased cover their heads.
It really was an experience! It's so interesting to see what things are done differently in America (like dating, but that's another post for another day). Being here has really made me realize what a little bubble I live in, and it's also made me a whole lot more aware of the other SEVEN BILLION people on this planet. They don't all live in America! They don't all go to funeral homes when someone passes away! They drink milk that doesn't have to be refrigerated until opened, and eat a loaf of bread a day! It's just really awesome to get to experience this other culture--what a blessing!
Monday, February 11, 2013
You may have noticed...
You may have noticed that the most recent post concerning Mercury and Venus is missing. This is because the more I thought about it, the more I realized that anyone who was really looking could probably figure out exactly who I was talking about. Being Christian here won't get you killed but it will get you in trouble with your family, and I figure that when trying to protect the identities of my friends it is always better to be safe than sorry.
SO. Here's how this is going to work for the remainder of my stay:
On this blog I will post fun stuff. Battles with my stove (stove: 3. Katie: 0). The number of Albanian hamburgers I have eaten to date (4. I have GOT to lay off the hamburgers). Where I went for coffee (and how many times I choked on all the cigarette smoke).
BUT. If you want the nitty-gritty stuff, like the spiritual status of my friends and what I need you to pray for, you'll have to get it from my handy-dandy email list. Which doesn't exist yet, but will once I know who wants to be on it. Shoot me a message on Facebook, leave a comment here, or email me at broyleskathryn@gmail.com. If I don't know you, please tell me who you are and how you know me so I know I'm not adding Creeper McGee to my email list. This way I can send you a secure message and no one will get in trouble.
Love y'all!
SO. Here's how this is going to work for the remainder of my stay:
On this blog I will post fun stuff. Battles with my stove (stove: 3. Katie: 0). The number of Albanian hamburgers I have eaten to date (4. I have GOT to lay off the hamburgers). Where I went for coffee (and how many times I choked on all the cigarette smoke).
BUT. If you want the nitty-gritty stuff, like the spiritual status of my friends and what I need you to pray for, you'll have to get it from my handy-dandy email list. Which doesn't exist yet, but will once I know who wants to be on it. Shoot me a message on Facebook, leave a comment here, or email me at broyleskathryn@gmail.com. If I don't know you, please tell me who you are and how you know me so I know I'm not adding Creeper McGee to my email list. This way I can send you a secure message and no one will get in trouble.
Love y'all!
Friday, February 1, 2013
Success!
I am pleased to report that after six hours of fighting with the stove, I finally got the fire to catch! (Go ahead and laugh... everyone else does!)
Here are some other things I have successfully done in my short time here:
I have done TWO loads of laundry! The washing machine downstairs was clearly made by aliens and was stolen off a UFO. Ariesa, whose name I may have just horribly misspelled, is my landlord's older, married daughter. She came by the other day and helped me figure out the crazy controls on the washer.
I have started the fire TWICE by myself, on the first try! Yippee! I haven't cooked over it again because people keep bringing me food (not that I'm going to complain--the best meal ever is one I didn't have to cook for myself!) Today, I keep looking at the stove and thinking that I probably should start a fire because I'm going to be here all by myself all day, but then I remember that if I do that it means I have to put blue jeans on because you don't go out of the house in your sweatpants here, ever, and especially not if you are going to waltz in to your landlord's courtyard and mooch from their woodpile. It also means that I have to find my coat, and then my Crocs, and then I have to go downstairs and put my shoes on to go outside, and then I have to come back inside and put my Crocs back on to come upstairs. Not to mention actually starting the fire. I think I'll just shiver for today.
I have gone grocery shopping in Macedonia, where I spent $2,449.00 on groceries.... Just kidding! Macedonia uses the Denar, which is worth $0.02 US. So really I only spent like $50. On a side note, I now have a $1,000 dollar bill in my wallet.
I have also walked all by myself through the park in Skopje ("SCOPE-ya") without being kidnapped by Gypsies. My knife got stolen when I went through customs, but I glared at anyone in Skopje who looked suspicious and was ready to bust out the kung-fu if I needed it.
I have had Turkish Coffee with Shemsija ("Shem-SEE-ya"), my landlord, whose name I also probably misspelled. Twice! We count to ten in Albanian every time we see each other, but I haven't figured out how to ask her what the words for eleven and twelve are; I've tried holding up two fingers on one hand and one on the other, but she thinks I am asking for the word for "three". I've also tried holding up all ten fingers and then one thumb, but she thinks I am starting over from one.
I have walked from my house to David's house alone, but nowhere else. I have the worse sense of direction of anyone I know. I am actually forcing myself to get out of the house this afternoon to walk around the city and figure out where things are, because except for this street that I live on, I can't find anything by myself.
I have been nicknamed "Kimet" by the locals, because it is easier for them to say. Albanians have trouble with the T in my name, so they either call me "Kimet" or "Kejti", which is Katie spelled out phonetically. Americans pronounce it "kay-dee", but Albanians say it "kay-TEE". I haven't gotten used to it yet.
So. Because I know you are all super super interested, I have some pictures to show you!
Here are some other things I have successfully done in my short time here:
I have done TWO loads of laundry! The washing machine downstairs was clearly made by aliens and was stolen off a UFO. Ariesa, whose name I may have just horribly misspelled, is my landlord's older, married daughter. She came by the other day and helped me figure out the crazy controls on the washer.
I have started the fire TWICE by myself, on the first try! Yippee! I haven't cooked over it again because people keep bringing me food (not that I'm going to complain--the best meal ever is one I didn't have to cook for myself!) Today, I keep looking at the stove and thinking that I probably should start a fire because I'm going to be here all by myself all day, but then I remember that if I do that it means I have to put blue jeans on because you don't go out of the house in your sweatpants here, ever, and especially not if you are going to waltz in to your landlord's courtyard and mooch from their woodpile. It also means that I have to find my coat, and then my Crocs, and then I have to go downstairs and put my shoes on to go outside, and then I have to come back inside and put my Crocs back on to come upstairs. Not to mention actually starting the fire. I think I'll just shiver for today.
I have gone grocery shopping in Macedonia, where I spent $2,449.00 on groceries.... Just kidding! Macedonia uses the Denar, which is worth $0.02 US. So really I only spent like $50. On a side note, I now have a $1,000 dollar bill in my wallet.
I have also walked all by myself through the park in Skopje ("SCOPE-ya") without being kidnapped by Gypsies. My knife got stolen when I went through customs, but I glared at anyone in Skopje who looked suspicious and was ready to bust out the kung-fu if I needed it.
I have had Turkish Coffee with Shemsija ("Shem-SEE-ya"), my landlord, whose name I also probably misspelled. Twice! We count to ten in Albanian every time we see each other, but I haven't figured out how to ask her what the words for eleven and twelve are; I've tried holding up two fingers on one hand and one on the other, but she thinks I am asking for the word for "three". I've also tried holding up all ten fingers and then one thumb, but she thinks I am starting over from one.
I have walked from my house to David's house alone, but nowhere else. I have the worse sense of direction of anyone I know. I am actually forcing myself to get out of the house this afternoon to walk around the city and figure out where things are, because except for this street that I live on, I can't find anything by myself.
I have been nicknamed "Kimet" by the locals, because it is easier for them to say. Albanians have trouble with the T in my name, so they either call me "Kimet" or "Kejti", which is Katie spelled out phonetically. Americans pronounce it "kay-dee", but Albanians say it "kay-TEE". I haven't gotten used to it yet.
So. Because I know you are all super super interested, I have some pictures to show you!
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| This is a nap pod. They had them in the airport in Munich. It's like a little tiny hotel room; you pay 30 Euros for two hours and get a real bed with real sheets and real blankets and a real door that really locks so you don't have to cuddle with your backpack and purse to keep them from getting stolen. It was a wee bit expensive for my tastes, but still very cool. |
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| This is the BOWL of hot chocolate I had in Munich. It came with a spoon in it, and I wasn't sure if I was supposed to drink it from the spoon or pick the bowl up and drink it like you do when you drink the last of the milk out of your cereal bowl. My thought process was this: When in doubt, always use silverware. |
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| This strange contraption sprayed antifreeze (I think) on the wings of the plane before it took off out of Munich. |
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| This is the front yard of Wrenn and David's house. There were six inches of snow on the ground when I woke up on Friday morning! We had a snowball fight. Also, I am very bad at shoveling driveways. |
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| This is what 1,000 Dinar looks like. |
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| The mountains of Macedonia on my walk in Skopje. |
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| This is a fort which is mostly original and very old. Wrenn and I hiked up to the top of the hill to see it, but then we had to turn around because the gates were locked and we couldn't get in.
So. Clearly I have been very bad about taking pictures; I promise that the next time I post you will see pictures of my house, and also of the stove (which I am about to start... It's cold!)
The only thing you won't ever see pictures of is the girls I am working with, because until they are ready to post online their picture and their name and their willingness to accept Christ, I'm not going to do it for them. Also, I won't call them by their real names on here either (so if I say, "My friend Iceland and I went out for coffee yesterday" then you can be pretty sure that my friend's name is not, in fact, Iceland).
Okay. That's all for now--love y'all!
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Tuesday, January 29, 2013
How to Make a Tuna Sandwich
1. Think, "Oh man, how nice would a tuna sandwich on some grilled bread be right now?"
2. Open the door to the stove, which heats your house and cooks your food at the same time, to discover that even the embers have burned out.
3. Blow into the fireplace, hoping to act as a human bellows and resuscitate the fire.
4. Dust off your clothes to remove the ashes that flew out of the fireplace in your zeal to revive the neglected fire.
5. Spray the room with Febreeze to remove the smell of campfire.
6. Blow into the fireplace some more. Ignore the ashes that come flying out at you.
7. Use saline to remove the ashes from your contacts. Dust your clothes off again. Repeat Febreeze.
8. Admit defeat, and find your landlord in her shop downstairs for help.
9. Let landlord follow you upstairs. Spend 15 minutes getting scolded in Albanian for letting the fire go out in the first place.
10. Watch in amazement as landlord performs magic and causes flames to spring forth from the fireplace.
11. Say "Falemenderit" eleventy six times as your landlord is leaving (it means "thank you" and is pronounced "fa-la-men-dare-eet").
12. Remember that the reason you tried to get the fire going again in the first place was to eat a tuna sandwich.
13. Realize you have no bread. Pop around the corner to the bakery to get some.
14. Slice bread. Toast.
15. Remove can of tuna from pantry.
16. Realize you don't have a can opener.
17. Eat cereal instead.
2. Open the door to the stove, which heats your house and cooks your food at the same time, to discover that even the embers have burned out.
3. Blow into the fireplace, hoping to act as a human bellows and resuscitate the fire.
4. Dust off your clothes to remove the ashes that flew out of the fireplace in your zeal to revive the neglected fire.
5. Spray the room with Febreeze to remove the smell of campfire.
6. Blow into the fireplace some more. Ignore the ashes that come flying out at you.
7. Use saline to remove the ashes from your contacts. Dust your clothes off again. Repeat Febreeze.
8. Admit defeat, and find your landlord in her shop downstairs for help.
9. Let landlord follow you upstairs. Spend 15 minutes getting scolded in Albanian for letting the fire go out in the first place.
10. Watch in amazement as landlord performs magic and causes flames to spring forth from the fireplace.
11. Say "Falemenderit" eleventy six times as your landlord is leaving (it means "thank you" and is pronounced "fa-la-men-dare-eet").
12. Remember that the reason you tried to get the fire going again in the first place was to eat a tuna sandwich.
13. Realize you have no bread. Pop around the corner to the bakery to get some.
14. Slice bread. Toast.
15. Remove can of tuna from pantry.
16. Realize you don't have a can opener.
17. Eat cereal instead.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Departure
In just over eighteen hours, I will board a plane that will take me into the heart of Eastern Europe. I have never been there, and I am terrified. I don't speak the language, I don't know squat about international travel, and I loathe the cold climate of Kosovo with the most profound abhorrence.
But God is good, and He will see me through this, as He has seen to each of my needs from the moment he first called me to this crazy, ridiculous, wonderful, scary, God-Inspired journey.
When I started this journey I thought there was no way I could raise nearly $10,000 in just over a month and a half. I thought the guys in the Pioneers office were crazy for telling me that it was, in fact possible. I sent out eleventy six letters, expecting maybe $4,000 or $5,000 to come in, but certainly not enough to send me to Kosovo and keep me there for the time period I had asked to go for. God had already slapped me around with the book of Judges and a certain story about Gideon and 300 men who lapped water like dogs out of a river, but I had resigned myself to traveling for a shortened amount of time because, well, I sent those letters out right at Christmas. Christmas is hard for everyone, I told myself. People won't really be that willing to help me because they'll be providing for their families.
You guys. I have a very, very rich Papa, and my Papa has some very generous and rich children. My Papa's math doesn't always make sense; He has blessed me abundantly in this venture. I am so humbled and thankful, and I have received confirmation from the way He has blessed me that he really does want me to go to Kosovo (not that I ever really had any doubt, but still.)
I wanted to write this post specifically to let you, my Papa's very rich and generous children, know what you have helped me to do. I am so blessed and honored that each of you have taken time to pray for me and to help me out. I have never even met some of you, and at least one person has given anonymously. Some of you are friends of friends; some of you are my family members. Two churches have helped me, as well as countless friends. I am so truly thankful for each and every one of you, and for your faithfulness and your willingness to help out a friend/relative/total stranger. I could not have done any of this without you.
You have helped me support a sweet little girl and her adorable family in Honduras. (I wrote a post on that shortly after Christmas, but I am not technologically savvy enough to link to it in this post. It's called "Good Gifts).
You have helped me to raise (drumroll please)... $9,950.80.
HOLY FLYING FISHSTICKS, BATMAN! Not only have my Papa's children helped me raise what I needed to, you have helped me raise MORE than I needed! Praise the Lord! How infinitely blessed am I to serve the Lord, who not only provides what you need when you need it but provides over and above what you need!
You have also helped me gather the necessary supplies to start a knitting ministry!
My mysterious anonymous benefactor also sent $85 in the mail, which I received earlier this week. I had talked to Wrenn and David, the couple who live in Kosovo and who I will be going to join, about perhaps bringing some of my knitting with me. They were stoked to find out that I knew how to knit and had suggested that I bring some supplies with me to teach the younger girls how to knit or crochet. They explained that the older ladies knew how to knit (and spin, and weave, and crochet, and all of the other fiber artsy things) but that the younger generation didn't.
I had already decided that I wanted to bring some supplies with me, but knew that I couldn't bring more than what was already in my knitting basket because yarn is not the cheapest thing in the world and I felt that it would be frivolous to acquire the necessary supplies unless some money from God fell out of the sky. And then $85 showed up in my mailbox. Praise the Lord, who provides over and above what I needed and who has given me what I asked for! Thanks to a sale at Hobby Lobby, I was able to get enough yarn to teach seven or eight people to knit. My hope is to reach out to these girls through this, and to gather together in my apartment (or wherever) to knit and to open a dialog about Christ. I see this as a tool to reach out to the women in the community, and if it is something that I love doing anyways, well, God is the giver of good gifts.
The last thing: My sweet fiance sent me this verse via text this afternoon, and I love it so much that I want to share it with you. "For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of His glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through His spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your heart through faith. And I pray that you being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord's people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the Love of Christ, and to know that this love surpasses knowledge that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God." -Ephesians 3:14-21. Please pray that the words of Christ come from my mouth, and that through Him I am able to show these people how wide and long and high and deep is the Love of Christ!
That's about all I have to say for now. I love each and every one of you and I am so honored to have you supporting me. The next time you hear from me, I will be in Kosovo!
But God is good, and He will see me through this, as He has seen to each of my needs from the moment he first called me to this crazy, ridiculous, wonderful, scary, God-Inspired journey.
When I started this journey I thought there was no way I could raise nearly $10,000 in just over a month and a half. I thought the guys in the Pioneers office were crazy for telling me that it was, in fact possible. I sent out eleventy six letters, expecting maybe $4,000 or $5,000 to come in, but certainly not enough to send me to Kosovo and keep me there for the time period I had asked to go for. God had already slapped me around with the book of Judges and a certain story about Gideon and 300 men who lapped water like dogs out of a river, but I had resigned myself to traveling for a shortened amount of time because, well, I sent those letters out right at Christmas. Christmas is hard for everyone, I told myself. People won't really be that willing to help me because they'll be providing for their families.
You guys. I have a very, very rich Papa, and my Papa has some very generous and rich children. My Papa's math doesn't always make sense; He has blessed me abundantly in this venture. I am so humbled and thankful, and I have received confirmation from the way He has blessed me that he really does want me to go to Kosovo (not that I ever really had any doubt, but still.)
I wanted to write this post specifically to let you, my Papa's very rich and generous children, know what you have helped me to do. I am so blessed and honored that each of you have taken time to pray for me and to help me out. I have never even met some of you, and at least one person has given anonymously. Some of you are friends of friends; some of you are my family members. Two churches have helped me, as well as countless friends. I am so truly thankful for each and every one of you, and for your faithfulness and your willingness to help out a friend/relative/total stranger. I could not have done any of this without you.
You have helped me support a sweet little girl and her adorable family in Honduras. (I wrote a post on that shortly after Christmas, but I am not technologically savvy enough to link to it in this post. It's called "Good Gifts).
You have helped me to raise (drumroll please)... $9,950.80.
HOLY FLYING FISHSTICKS, BATMAN! Not only have my Papa's children helped me raise what I needed to, you have helped me raise MORE than I needed! Praise the Lord! How infinitely blessed am I to serve the Lord, who not only provides what you need when you need it but provides over and above what you need!
You have also helped me gather the necessary supplies to start a knitting ministry!
My mysterious anonymous benefactor also sent $85 in the mail, which I received earlier this week. I had talked to Wrenn and David, the couple who live in Kosovo and who I will be going to join, about perhaps bringing some of my knitting with me. They were stoked to find out that I knew how to knit and had suggested that I bring some supplies with me to teach the younger girls how to knit or crochet. They explained that the older ladies knew how to knit (and spin, and weave, and crochet, and all of the other fiber artsy things) but that the younger generation didn't.
I had already decided that I wanted to bring some supplies with me, but knew that I couldn't bring more than what was already in my knitting basket because yarn is not the cheapest thing in the world and I felt that it would be frivolous to acquire the necessary supplies unless some money from God fell out of the sky. And then $85 showed up in my mailbox. Praise the Lord, who provides over and above what I needed and who has given me what I asked for! Thanks to a sale at Hobby Lobby, I was able to get enough yarn to teach seven or eight people to knit. My hope is to reach out to these girls through this, and to gather together in my apartment (or wherever) to knit and to open a dialog about Christ. I see this as a tool to reach out to the women in the community, and if it is something that I love doing anyways, well, God is the giver of good gifts.
The last thing: My sweet fiance sent me this verse via text this afternoon, and I love it so much that I want to share it with you. "For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of His glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through His spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your heart through faith. And I pray that you being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord's people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the Love of Christ, and to know that this love surpasses knowledge that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God." -Ephesians 3:14-21. Please pray that the words of Christ come from my mouth, and that through Him I am able to show these people how wide and long and high and deep is the Love of Christ!
That's about all I have to say for now. I love each and every one of you and I am so honored to have you supporting me. The next time you hear from me, I will be in Kosovo!
Monday, January 14, 2013
It's Official!
Whelp, this is happening for real. My parents and I sat down a few nights ago and purchased a plane ticket--I really get to do this! WOOOHOOOO! (That has become my mantra).
For those concerned parties, I am leaving on January 24 (which is Trent's birthday, sadly) from Huntsville. I should show up again in Pristina, Kosovo roughly 24 hours later (ish). I will be back in the States on June 2. Each trip takes roughly 24 hours, and I am reveling in the thought of going through Customs in my sleep-deprived state.
As for the communication situation: I can receive as many text messages as you want to send me, but I can only send out 50 per month. You can email me all you want, too, but I may or may not have frequent access to the internet and so I may or may not be able to email you back. I can Skype too, I just need a heads up.
There are lots of fun things on my to-do list that must be crossed off before I get there, and the most important one is learning how to build a fire. How have I made it to the ripe old age of 22 and not learned how to build a fire, you ask? That's a good question, and the answer is that in this modern world of central heating I haven't had the need to learn. Kosovo does not have central heating because they do not have power all the time, and if I want to stay warm at night (or during the day) I need to learn how to not only build a fire, I need to learn how to take care of a wood burning stove (something else I've never needed to learn how to do because Dad has always done it for me!).
I would greatly appreciate any prayers you feel like sending; I am terrified of international travel, even more so considering that the last time I flew alone was a disaster (I missed my flight by three minutes! Then the Delta guy laughed at me! Also, I booked a ticket for the wrong month!). I already know that my tickets are for the right month, but I have to pass through two countries where I don't speak the language and don't know how to say, "Excuse me, but I have missed my flight / need to use the restroom / am lost / would like something to eat / am offended by your body odor." So far my only hope at communication seems to be pantomime.
And as always I seek your prayers for the ministry I am going to be a part of. There are so many unknowns and variables that I don't even know what to ask for specifically, but Romans 8:26 says that "When we do not know what we ought to pray, the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans and sighs that words cannot express." Mostly I just ask for HELP--help getting through four airports, two in another country; help getting everything done that needs to be done; help reaching out to people who have never met Jesus; help to be His hands and feet! I pray for help in understanding the culture I am about to be a part of; I pray for help in learning now not to stick out like a total foreigner; I pray for the answers when someone asks me a hard question; I pray that it is not me but Christ in me who speaks when I open my mouth!
I am so blessed to have y'all behind me in prayer; what a wonderful support team I have!
For those concerned parties, I am leaving on January 24 (which is Trent's birthday, sadly) from Huntsville. I should show up again in Pristina, Kosovo roughly 24 hours later (ish). I will be back in the States on June 2. Each trip takes roughly 24 hours, and I am reveling in the thought of going through Customs in my sleep-deprived state.
As for the communication situation: I can receive as many text messages as you want to send me, but I can only send out 50 per month. You can email me all you want, too, but I may or may not have frequent access to the internet and so I may or may not be able to email you back. I can Skype too, I just need a heads up.
There are lots of fun things on my to-do list that must be crossed off before I get there, and the most important one is learning how to build a fire. How have I made it to the ripe old age of 22 and not learned how to build a fire, you ask? That's a good question, and the answer is that in this modern world of central heating I haven't had the need to learn. Kosovo does not have central heating because they do not have power all the time, and if I want to stay warm at night (or during the day) I need to learn how to not only build a fire, I need to learn how to take care of a wood burning stove (something else I've never needed to learn how to do because Dad has always done it for me!).
I would greatly appreciate any prayers you feel like sending; I am terrified of international travel, even more so considering that the last time I flew alone was a disaster (I missed my flight by three minutes! Then the Delta guy laughed at me! Also, I booked a ticket for the wrong month!). I already know that my tickets are for the right month, but I have to pass through two countries where I don't speak the language and don't know how to say, "Excuse me, but I have missed my flight / need to use the restroom / am lost / would like something to eat / am offended by your body odor." So far my only hope at communication seems to be pantomime.
And as always I seek your prayers for the ministry I am going to be a part of. There are so many unknowns and variables that I don't even know what to ask for specifically, but Romans 8:26 says that "When we do not know what we ought to pray, the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans and sighs that words cannot express." Mostly I just ask for HELP--help getting through four airports, two in another country; help getting everything done that needs to be done; help reaching out to people who have never met Jesus; help to be His hands and feet! I pray for help in understanding the culture I am about to be a part of; I pray for help in learning now not to stick out like a total foreigner; I pray for the answers when someone asks me a hard question; I pray that it is not me but Christ in me who speaks when I open my mouth!
I am so blessed to have y'all behind me in prayer; what a wonderful support team I have!
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