whispers of faith

During our time in our training site, my sitemates and I have been working with a youth group of some of the coolest, most generous, kind, patient, and graceful youth I have ever met. I say this for many reasons, but most importantly, this group has given up literally every weekend since we met them to hang out with us and drag us along to the coolest things and most beautiful sites, and not to mention great donkey adventures. So, the other day, we got up early to meet up with our youth for a day of hiking adventures, and they tell us that they are taking us to a church, a Christian one. This led into a long and deep discussion of religion in Albania, and how incredibly accepting the culture is of religious differences as we walked down the path.

The fact that I'm in this picture really honestly ruins the view because it's just that much less of Albania that you get to see, BUT I needed you to know that I climbed some massive rocks to get here.

None of us adults had any idea where we were going, and frankly we never do. We just follow these youth with blind faith that they won't lead us astray, something that has led us to some pretty incredible destinations thus far. So on this particular adventure, we climbed a hill in the bed of a dried up stream. Then, we climbed another hill, and another. At one point, I looked out to my right and realized that one misstep, and I would tumble down the steep side of a mountain with nothing to break my fall until I reached the olive tree orchard that now just looked like twigs stuck in the dirt miles away. We turned a bend, the group announced that we had reached the church, and they proceeded to climb a steep incline to the reach the peak of this mountain.

Albania: The land that just keeps getting better.

As I climbed that last ten feet, knowing that what lay atop the peak couldn't possibly be a building with pews, hymnals, and an organ, I wondered if the word "church" somehow got lost in translation. Truly, ignorance at its best, because what I found on top of that mountain was absolutely a church. Once I tore my eyes from the incredible view of the snowcapped mountains, olive orchard covered hillsides, and village spotted valleys, I saw the church. A single stone bearing a cross, surrounded by candles, gifts of leke and candy, and protected from the wind by sheets of tin. "Touch the stone, and make your wish." That, I did.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, right? Well take it in because I have no words that are good enough for this picture right here.

We marveled at the beauty of this place and this moment for a while longer, then the students led us backwards down the hill, a tradition and a sign of respect for the church. As we walked from that place, I made a mental note to remember that what I know to be true often differs greatly from the truths known to others, and that perhaps the truths we know are not truths at all, but feeble attempts, formed by culture and experience, to make something concrete out of something much larger and much more abstract than we can comprehend.

This was church.

Today I am thankful for the moments in life that make me realize how utterly lost I am. This morning, I had one of these moments. A moment that made me stop dead in my tracks and contemplate my existence. For some context here, in Albania, dogs are generally not treated as pets. Dogs are security systems. They are taught to be vicious, to see threat in outsiders, to protect the family. When I got to my house 5 weeks ago, I looked out the window of the bus and noticed a huge, beautiful dog hanging out by our front door. That day, walking inside in the safe wake of mamaja ime, was the last time that dog didn't make an attempt on my life as I walked through the gate.

This picture isn't relevant at all to this story, but here is proof that our youth group rocks and takes us on cool hikes where we end up in places like this.

So this morning, after eating breakfast and getting my fill of morning hangs with Ledio, I walked outside to put on my shoes and leave for training. As always, I waited while Lina ran out to hold back the dog so I could safely walk up the driveway to the road. Today though, the dog was in the middle of the driveway instead of occupying his usual spot much further away. I expected Lina to sho the dog back and clear my path as per usual, but instead, she stood between the myself and the dog and said, "Go. Go. I am here." Whoa.

I walked up the drive, all the while thinking about how I literally owe my life to Lina every day. If it weren't for her, I would be opening that gate to meet certain death every single day. But I don't. Why? Because she is there. Beyond this though, I'm not scared of this dog. Like I should definitely be scared of this dog, but I'm not. Why? Because she is there. So here I am thinking about the fact that I trust Lina with my life every day, and I just walk on by, knowing, trusting, that I will make it to the end of that driveway.

Seriously... look at how cute he is, and just think about how terrifying he would be sprinting at you barring his mighty jaws of death and cuteness.

Now I know I'm putting way too much thought into this, but here's the thing: Isn't trust like this how leaping with faith works? This simple moment each day that defines the safety and peacefulness of my 30 second trip up the driveway is proof to me that there is never any reason to doubt. It proved to me that I should never be afraid to leap with faith, to take a risk, to follow my heart. Why? Because He is there.

I'll leave you with nature's promise to stay hopeful, because so many beautiful things are yet to come.

I struggle constantly with the idea that perhaps I did the wrong thing, made the wrong decision, took the wrong path. Even knowing that I am where I am supposed to be, there is always an element of doubt, of worry. However, I know there is no reason to worry. Why? Because He is there. He is there, making sure that you make it to the end of that driveway, that a mighty wind catches and carries you on your leap of faith.