Friday morning - yesterday was a busy day

Now, you will have the REAL time and date... before, my computer was putting Pacific Daylight Savings Time as these blogs were posted, but I finally figured out how to change the date and time to Tirana. One small step at a time for this technically challenged blogger. The days of expecting things to work the same way each time you use them are over! And, until there is voice recognition software that can recognize my frustration, I'll have to figure out the small changes manually.

I fell asleep last night to the roar of thunder and piercing flashes of lightening. The storm was so powerful that occasionally the building shook. Despite my sleepy desire to just ignore the pandemonium, I finally decided to check the weather website to see if there was anything I should know. That being unfruitful, I decided that God's nature is mighty, but He is mightier and would care for me one way or another. That decided, I blissfully succumbed to my overwhelming desire to sleep!

It was a full day yesterday - my time here rarely starts with a whimper. Having spent time with Migena on Wednesday reviewing plans for the widows and strategizing, I was scheduled to meet Ida yesterday. But, Barry was in the Stefan Center restaurant while I was having breakfast, so I made an appointment with him, then the staff of the Stefan Center came in and we had a wonderful time catching up - briefly. Finally, I headed for Taiwan.

Taiwan

You might think that Taiwan is located somewhere in the South China Sea, but I know better. It is snuggled cozily on a corner of "The Block" in Tirana - it houses a restaurant, coffee shop and casino. "The Block" is the upscale area with wide, tree-lined streets once populated by the powerful or connected under Hoxha. Yesterday was a beautiful day to meet for a coffee; it was quiet (with very few scurrying around) and warm but with a gentle breeze. I was to meet Ida there.

Ida's shop

Ida works in Bathore at her seamstress shop. Perhaps you remember Kathy from "Come and Sew Ministries" (CASMI). Kathy has helped Ida establish and maintain a seamstress shop in Bathore, where Ida takes in sewing work to support herself and her family (her husband only recently got a job), but she also has classes for some of the local widows to teach them how to be a seamstress. CASMI supplied her with five sewing machines as well as most of the tools she needs to teach the ladies and continues to support her with small grants for rent and so on. Ida works with Migena as they, together, try to minister to the large widowed population in this poor suburb of Tirana.

Ida's shop

Having an errant American in the shop caused a bit of a sensation, perhaps, because it wasn't long before a widow passed by and stopped to say hello... then the landlord and the neighboring gynecologist's assistant, along with a few potential customers also happened in. 

Ida and Lazima

The widow, Lazima, is about 42 and has been widowed for about 7 years. She moved to Tirana about 20 years ago with her husband, and here they have raised their children. Her husband died of cancer, a process which somehow "ate up" his arm; she nursed him for about four years before he died. Her oldest is a son who is currently 20 and unemployed, unskilled and unschooled. Her daughter, 19, is married with a 1 year old son who has a heart problem requiring surgery, apparently unavailable here and so expensive elsewhere there seems no way to pay for it. Her youngest, 14, is named Melissa (the same name as my sister) and is still in school. Lazima is illiterate and unskilled; she doesn't read or write and has never learned to sew. She is not making much progress with sewing, but comes anyway - something for which Ida is thankful because it gives her an opportunity to witness to her. The family survives by taking in work from the local shoe factory, sewing the tops of shoes to the soles for about 20 Leke per pair (10 cents per shoe). Ida and I noted that one of the things which seems to be endemic here, besides illiteracy and the lack of marketable skills, is the paucity - indeed the absence - of hope. What a great opportunity for God to work a miracle - or for His family to provide one. I committed my Sunday school class to pray for Lazima and her family.

Plums from Chavila's garden

No sooner had Lazima continued on her way when Chavila stopped in. She is the landlady for the four unit building in which Ida's shop is located; she and her husband occupy one of the units with their coffee shop. She offered us a coffee - so, all three of us sat outside in front of the coffee shop enjoying another coffee and chatting. The weather was cooperating with a refreshing breeze and no rain. Chavila has two sons, both of whom are in their late teens or early twenties. She was curious about me, and we shared information about our families and then the reason I was there. She talked about personal industry and the "people around here don't work hard" - something she and her husband do daily as they work at their business, cultivate their gardens, and so on - and she sounded somewhat like an American voicing the same opinion. Our chatter provided Ida with an opportunity to share the reason I had come so far - that these people were created by our Abba and He loves them, and I am hoping to provide some hope by teaching a marketable skill. Then, I had an opportunity to ask her if she had ever gone to church. She is, by tradition, a Muslim but has accepted invitations to join Migena and Ida at their Baptist church on occasion. She says it is a nice place and she would like to go again, so I asked if I would see her there. She said she would go if I were there - so, not this Sunday, but next Sunday I will be looking for Chavila at Migena's church.

Chamila and Ida beading

Ida took it all in stride. We had already discussed the projects, and were ready to begin. So, we returned to Ida's shop and pulled out the beaded jewelry I had brought. Of course, Chavila was curious and had followed us into the shop. She studied the items and repeatedly said she had "no words" to describe how beautiful they were. She was hooked. I showed Ida how to bead the Twisted Herringbone necklace designed by Amy Loh-Kupser (she was at GBC last fall to teach us), and Chavila was so enthralled, I gave her a kit, too. For the next hour or two everything was quiet as the two tried to master the beading. Ida picked it right up and will be a good helper for the women she chooses to do this; Chavila was having a little trouble, but got it. We enjoyed a bite from her garden - plums which usually ripen to a golden color, but which Chavila prefers to eat before they ripen.

I left Ida at her shop to travel back into Tirana to meet with Alban and Dori at the Istituti (Cru) so we could have an early dinner - they had a conference at 6:30. I dropped off my things at my room, looked up through the window and the entire sky seemed to be falling in huge, pregnant rain drops bouncing off the roof next door. I hurriedly called Dori, thinking the rain was here to stay, and canceled dinner. In no time flat, though, the rain stopped, so we rearranged things, and I bustled over to the Instituti, picking up an umbrella along the way. We had New York bagel sandwiches - they were good!

Dava

Happy end to a busy day

On the way back to my room, Migena texted that Dava is in town. I met Dava on the last trip - perhaps you remember her. At any rate, she has taken a job outside of Tirana in order to make ends meet, and was visiting her son who is in university here and was not feeling well. We met at Gordon's - about a block and a half from the Pashos and about 2.5 miles from where I was. So, down to Gordon's and a coffee with Dava and Migena. Dava has been busy with knitted jewelry and brought some to show me - you will have a chance to see some of it when I get home. While waiting for Dava and Migena, I watched a little Roma girl, probably about 6 or 7, through the window as she darted in and out of traffic in an attempt to garner some alms - she would sometimes dash into the bushes where I could just see her mother hiding. After a while, her younger sister joined her. Despite her assignment, she had all the carefree playfulness of a young girl, and I wondered that she had not been hit by someone before!

I agreed to meet Dava (and Migena) today to teach her how to make one of the projects - although she is working, she is still having a tough time.  I think she will do well with this skill.
Thank you for your prayers, and thanks to our wonderful Abba for this opportunity to represent you here in Albania with His love, and hopefully His hope.

Wednesday morning

Well, I haven't figure out this blog thing, yet.  I wrote last night (or was it the night before?), but can't find it.  As my husband says, one of the things that is worrisome about computers is what can be done with just one key stroke - like deleting a vast amount of information.  Not that my thoughts were vast... I had just arrived after a rather lengthy test of endurance!!  But, I had put together some thoughts and they sounded rather informative - at least they did when I wrote them.  Enough!!

What is it about Tirana?  I step out of the Stefan Center and there is an excitement, an energy - perhaps it's an anticipation.  The traffic seems a little better in control today, the people are just as busy going to and fro, and the snippets of language are so enticing.  Gosh, I wish I could speak Schip. 

The trip was really long.  I think that Turkish Air might be able to charge less because they shave a little of the leg room off each row.  I couldn't get out to take a brief walk without making my row-mates get up and out... there was literally not room to place my feet if they remained seated.  The seating configuration is 3-3-3... the "usual" is 2-5-2.  So, one advantage to being in the center of the center section (not where I was) is that you only have to crawl over one person, not two. 

Other than the lack of personal space, Turkish Air was quite nice.  My UAL flight arrived on time to LA (the one after mine was delayed - go figure!), the trek from the farthest arrival gate at United to the Bradley International Concourse was uneventful, except, of course, for all the people who didn't know that they were getting in my way and delaying my progress!  Really!  The audacity!  

After going through security again, I searched for the gate... it was the absolute farthest one, off by itself beyond the other gates.  As I began to approach, the languages began to change, the lines became less organized, and the dress less Western... my first hint I would be entering a different world.  My row-mates were from Turkey and Iran - neither spoke English, and you must know that my Persian and Turkish are a little rusty.  The announcements, even before boarding, were in Turkish, and I had no idea what I was supposed to do, but I was encouraged by others to just push ahead in line and not to worry - and I did so (I didn't have any other option, it turns out, since there were so many behind me I was moved forward without choosing to do so).  At any rate, no questions were asked of me and so I was one of the first on the plane.  I folded by frame into the space allotted and took out my phone (because my son called).  This apparently was upsetting to the stewardess, so that conversation was short-lived.  Then, I began to knit - a seemingly universal invitation to converse with other women the world over (or at least as "all over the world" as I've been!).  So, everyone admired my simple project, we discovered that we could converse by pointing and smiling, and so began a somewhat solitary flight.... 13 hours!!!

The up side to the long flight is that I think that it afforded me more time to sleep.  So, I arrived more rested than I have in the past.  The food was good, the service was efficient and polite, it was fun to try to silently converse with my row-mates, and I slept (as did they, I think).  I lost my ear buds early in the confusion, so I didn't have the unparalleled opportunity of listening to Turkish Rock.  There was no space to bead, work on my computer or even write.  So, sleep was a very good alternative.

Arriving in Istanbul was different than I anticipated.  It is a quite modern airport - complete with traffic, crowds, and hijabs.  There were gentlemen in Saudi dress - you know the white gowns, women in Saris, and plenty of women with head coverings.  Seeing a woman all in black with only a slit for the eyes elicits a strong feeling in me - it's as if they didn't really exist, they are an illusion, a negative image, a vapor.  Praise our wonderful Abba that they are not a vapor to Him - that He loves them and wishes them to come to know Him.  So, I prayed for them.

I endured my third security checkpoint of the trip (why did I even get dressed? I always worry I'll forget something as I replace my shoes and gather my ticket and jacket), bought water, and madly tried to find my gate.  The time stamped on my ticket was boarding time - no wonder I couldn't find my flight on the departure board which listed departure times!  But, it created a little adrenalin rush - no, a BIG adrenalin rush - as I imagined the flight leaving without me.  We took a bus to the airplane - far out on the tarmac without a convenient causeway as you see in the picture.  Why is it that flights to Albania always take off from the farthest corner of the airport?  And, they are all boarded up one of those portable stairways?  I'm waiting for the "big leagues" with causeways to amble down.  It's always such a hassle to lift everything (especially yourself after 20 hours or so) onto the bus, hold on to the pole so as not to fall over, then slowly carry yourself and all your belongings up the stairway.  It would be so much easier to just roll that little carry-on along one of those lovely tunnels - I'd feel so much more put together! 

Leaving Istanbul by air (my only glimpse of the city) revealed a modern looking city complete with traffic jams (it was 5 pm when we left).  There were lines of huge cargo ships lined up along the Mediterranean to get into the port, very tall apartment buildings, parks, freeways, soccer fields.  Except for the minarets scattered about every 1-2 blocks, it could have been anywhere.  The Mediterranean was beautiful, and it looked like the beaches were beautiful as well.

Finally to my destination... Tirana.  The sky was overcast when I landed, as it was when I left SLO, so I missed the beautiful hills at both places.  I tried to take a picture of the sheep grazing along the runway, but I'm not sure you'll be able to see them.  I was the last through customs - I'm short, and was not really up to the hassle of getting to the front of the line - and watched those entering before me.  Interesting, I saw groups of bearded men - probably on the same quest as I am but for a different abba. 

A funny thing happened at Customs - I usually am the recipient of a great deal of suspicion since I bring the Action Packers which look very official!  This time, however, the customs agents asked where I was traveling from and when I said the US, they waved me through - Action Packers and all.  Behind the sliding door were the wonderful faces of my good friends - Dori and Sindi, with Ruben, Daniel and Alban waiting outside where young boys are unhindered.  It was good to be home!  Then to the Stefan Center (a picture of which will not download, along with some others), a night in the "overflow" next door, and up and at 'em yesterday and today.   

Well, my antics of yesterday have to wait until later.  Hope this reaches you all in good health - that you will pray for the projects I will present today, and that God will use me and my friends here for His greater glory!  That others would come to be in His family with us!  Mirupashen.