So Who am I Again, and What am I Doing Here?

I've been here in Macedonia almost three months now. At first homesickness wasn't an issue. I was so excited to be here, that I wasn't thinking too much about what I left behind. But I've been here long enough that the newness has worn off and I start to face the reality of the cost involved in this path I have chosen to travel. I am going to be very real about the struggles, and about the questions I am facing, because the answers God is giving me are very real as well, and maybe they can be an encouragement to others besides myself.

Last night I was at the Glasnost church service and they played a song that was often sung at the little church down the road from my home in Virginia. I almost cried when I heard it, for it sent a wave of memories rushing through my head. It reminded me of what I left behind. My mind and heart were flooded with images and memories. I thought of my family, and the wonderful times we shared together, of our beautiful country home, and the wonderful community of neighbors
surrounding us. I thought of quiet moments spent sitting by the creek enjoying the peace and beauty of the mountains I lived among. I thought of ice skating on the neighbor's pond, of snowball battles in the field, of horse back riding together, of working together on the farm. I miss it all. I miss my job, the creative outlet of sewing. I miss my church family, the dance team I was on, the twin babies I watched, the other children I worked with. The reality is that it hurts, this path is not without a cost.

And then I think of where I am now, of this path I have chosen to walk. On a daily basis I face very stretching experiences. I almost forget what it's like to be able to understand all the conversations going on around me, to be able to go shopping without wondering if I will get myself in an awkward situation because of my inability to communicate. I used to know how to cook, how to shop, how to get around. I felt like an adult. Suddenly, everything I used to know doesn't always apply and so many times I feel like a child again, always relying on someone else to teach me how things are done. It is humbling, and tiring all at once. Sometimes I think my brain will explode if I try to stuff one more Macedonian word inside it, or figure out how to form another sentence. One day maybe I will know which bus to catch where, and when to get off so as not to be late for an appointment, but that day has not come yet. And sometimes I stop and wonder, "Okay, so why did I choose this path? Why didn't I just stay where so many things were easier?" I don't mean to complain, and I would be remiss if I did not mention the many amazing friendships God has given me here that make it all so much easier. But just bear with me for a minute as I trace for you the very real path that I am walking and share with you the place of victory God has showed me in it.

This morning I was talking with God. I realized that Jesus walked this path before me. He left heaven to come down and become one of us. What I left behind is nothing compared to what He left. So I asked Jesus how He did it without becoming disheartened and sad. The words He spoke to me filled me with life and hope again. He told me that He fixed his eyes on unseen things, on the eternal, not the temporal. He came here with a mission, to rescue his bride so that she could go and live with Him in eternity. He had a purpose, and that is what He lived for, He was focusing on the joy set before Him, not what was in front of Him at the moment.

So I pause and think about who I really am, what my purpose is and where I am going. These are all things I have "known" all along, but now they become reality deep in my heart as they are tested. I am a daughter of God, and therefore a citizen of heaven, my citizenship does not lie with any country on the earth. I chose to walk this path because I am in love with Jesus, and I want to be where He is. The way He works, it is in losing my life that I will find it, and in dying that I will live. Sometimes I get tired of the mud and grime in Shutka, but then I remember that anything that I do to the least of these around me, I am doing to Jesus, the one I love. Sometimes the seeds I am sowing into people's lives don't look like they are bearing fruit. But I can stand on the promise that no word of the Lord goes forth without accomplishing the purpose for which it was sent. And when a new culture becomes tiring I remind myself that I was not made for any city here on earth, I am looking for a city whose builder and maker is God. This life is just a fleeting moment, here today and gone tomorrow. What will matter in the end is not so much where I lived, what I had or didn't have, but what I sowed into eternity. And through it all, I am just working along side Jesus, and in His presence is where I find fulness of joy, regardless of who else is with me. His love makes it all okay, and His grace is sufficient. I would not choose any other path.

Monday in Skopje

I plan on making a series of posts describing what each day of the week is typically like for us here in Macedonia. Since I am in Macedonia, I will do things their way and start the week off with Monday instead of Sunday.

We take Monday off to rest and get things done around the apartment. We do our grocery shopping, which is a very different experience than in America. You don’t take the car, get your groceries and drive home. You walk to the store, and carry home everything you buy. Our weekly grocery shopping includes a trip to the green market where we purchase fresh vegetables, fruit and eggs, which proves to be a wonderful cultural experience. Early on we decided to stick with buying our vegetables from the same two older women in order to build relationships with them. Dressed in quite typical garb for the older generation of Macedonian women; skirts, sweaters and headscarves, they greet us from behind their tables of fresh vegetables with broad smiles. They discovered that I am eager to learn Macedonian, and have been very patient and helpful teachers, pleased that I want to speak their language. I point to the tomatoes and show how many I want. My friend says the sentence slowly and clearly in Macedonian, and I repeat it to her, “Сакам две патлиџани, те молам.” She smiles with glee and congratulates me on my success. Maybe next time I will surprise her and use a whole sentence that she hasn’t taught me. And one day I will know enough to tell her why I am so drawn to her country, and why I want to learn her language, because I have felt the love that Jesus has for her country, for her people, and ultimately for her. Until that day, I am pleased to receive her gift of a few extra carrots and a hug and pray that my smile will speak to her what my words cannot.





In the evening we go to a prayer meeting with Glasnost church, the young people’s church we are a part of. This is one of my favorite parts of the week, walking across Skopje with friends, praying together for the city, for our church, and for God to move in the lives of the people around us. I love it when God shows up and meets with us. The best part is knowing without a doubt that God will answer every prayer that we pray, and therefore these times have the power to bring great change.