Musings after a year and a half overseas...

“I can’t think of anything that excites a greater sense of childlike wonder 

than to be in a country where you are ignorant of almost everything. 

Suddenly you are five years old again. 

You can’t read anything, you have only the most rudimentary 
sense of how things work, you can’t even reliably cross a street 
without endangering your life. 

Your whole existence becomes a series of interesting guesses.” 

Bill Bryson

It's been a year and a half.  One year and six months.  I can't believe it.  Some days, it feels like we got on the plane yesterday.  Others, it feels as if we have been here for a lifetime.

I thought, given the occasion, I would ask the kids the following question:  "What is something you have learned or realized in the past year and a half - either about yourself, about Macedonia, about America, about our family - you pick.  Just name one thing."

I'll share the answers with you (I got permission from the kids, first).  And then I'll give my thoughts about each of one of them.

"I didn't know that Macedonia has the best gevrek I have ever eaten." - Josif (who will be 11 in two weeks)

Let's not confuse ourselves with whether or not Josif actually ate a gevrek before moving to Macedonia.  :)  What is important is his realization that gevrek ROCKS!

Something to which we have all had to adjust is the eating habits in our new home.  The food we eat here is different - sure, we ate meat and potatoes and bread in America.  But sirinje cheese (the closest thing I can think of in the States is feta) was never a daily part of our meals.  Here, it is.  We also never ate cucumbers every single day.  Here, we do.  The eating times are also different.  And, I must admit this is something we haven't really figured out yet. Our family still eats on American time.  Which is nice when we go to restaurants, because we usually have the whole place to ourselves.  :) However, it's quite confusing when we are trying to get together with our Macedonian friends/family. In the States, it goes something like this:

Breakfast:  7:30 AM
Lunch:  Noon
Dinner: 6:30 PM (largest meal of the day)

Macedonia is more like this:

Breakfast:  9:00 AM
Lunch:  3 PM (largest meal of the day)
Dinner:  10 PM

It's a tad confusing for us! :)  It's funny, now, a year and a half later, to look back and see how many things you didn't know that you didn't know.





"I didn't know that I wouldn't have my last birthday in America. You know, when I was 7." - Malachi  (who will be 8 next month)


This one was a little harder for me to swallow.  So, Malachi and I sat down and talked about it.  I wanted to figure out exactly what he meant.  It was actually a profound statement that spoke volumes to this mama's heart.


Holidays and celebrations have been tough since we moved overseas.  We are still trying to navigate the waters of "what is our family tradition?" and "what does it look like in Macedonia?"

Malachi's thought from the past year and a half is one that I have struggled with myself.  "Regret" is too strong of a word.  But the most concise way to put it is this:  "What would I have done differently if I had realized that my last year in America would be my last year in a America?"  We knew, of course, that we were moving.  But things got so hectic and time went so fast - selling all of our stuff, packing what we planned to take with us, looking for a place to live, organizing, planning, sending Nattie on a mission trip ahead of us, sending Zo and Aleks ahead, moving into a temporary house a month before, having a foster placement stay with us for three weeks the month before we moved.... All of those things kind of took over life (which makes total sense).

But now that we are here, and life continues to go on....what do birthdays look like when your friends are on the other side of the world? When Christmas is a Skype call that has a four second lag time between sentences...When children knock on your door on some random day in January (well, random to us, not to them) and sing a song in a language you don't understand, and expect you to give them candy....What do we do with all of these things?

We are learning.  We are growing.  And we are leaning toward God (and each other) to hold us when it hurts.  And we laugh.  When it doesn't work out like we expected.  And our hearts are warm, when we finally get it "right".

"I didn’t realize that some of my quirks that I thought were strange in America (like walking slowly) would fit in so well in Macedonia, and that my personality has a lot of similarities with the culture here." - Aleks (who will be 15 in two weeks)

My sweet Aleks. He cracks me up.  He always sees things differently than everyone else around him - sometimes that's a good thing. Other times, not so much! :D 

Aleks seems to fit in really well in Macedonia.  Some of the cultural differences that the rest of us don't understand, he just shrugs and says they make total sense to him.  It's been good for all of us. To watch him integrate.  To watch him enjoy things that make us want to pull our collective hair out.  :)

Aleks has helped me remember that people are people, no matter where you go.  Deep down, we were all made for relationships.  Deep down, we all want acceptance and love.  And this year and a half has helped me to step back and slow down - to remember that the projects are great, but the people are greater.  To work on my own integration with more enthusiasm.  To enjoy it more.

"I have come to this conclusion:
All life's chaos and confusion
Is best expressed in lyric form,
For poems calm the nomad's storm."  
 - Nattie, 16


Storms.  Yeah.  Chaos. Yup.  Confusion.  We've had em all.  Emotions have been all over the map.  For all of us.  From insane rage when you can't find the matching sock to sobbing hysterically when you see a Taco Bell commercial during a football game you're streaming.  (the struggle is real)  

Nattie's realization has been one that we have all needed.  We must all find the outlet that works for us.  To process. To grow.  To move on (in a positive way).  To heal. To embrace this change. To make progress. To do what we were called here to do.  Because, it's hard.  No sugar coating it. Some days it's really hard.

But God is faithful.  And family is good.  And life in Macedonia is exactly what it needs to be.  And it's only been a year and a half. And we need to allow ourselves some time to settle.  God has seen fit to allow our family great progress in this area, and for that we are grateful.

We are looking forward to the future.  And we are excited about the opportunities.  

    

  

It's OFFICIAL!!!

"Everybody needs someone beside them, 

shining like a lighthouse from the sea."

- Needtobreathe -

Merry Christmas from Macedonia!

We're so excited to tell you that Lighthouse of Hope is officially an NGO (non-governmental organization) in Macedonia!  Our paperwork was filed and accepted the week before Christmas and our organization has been realized!

And what an awesome time it was - as is always the case, God's timing was perfect!  The same day we filed the paperwork, we were blessed to participate in our first activity!  We were asked by a family from Skopje to be translators when they met their new daughter for the first time.  It was really a very cool experience.

The Van Niekerk Family has a beautiful adoption story - complete with the struggles and tears that came from an unrealized adoption, to the excitement and anticipation of being matched with a completely different little girl and meeting her for the first time and taking her home the very same day!

We met with Esther and Dani and their three wonderful kids on the morning of their adoption. Everyone was really excited and anxious. We spent several minutes waiting for paperwork to be completed and their daughter to be ready and then they brought her into the room.  She was so precious.  Because of the adoption laws in Macedonia, the family was not permitted to know her birth name, so all they knew was "M".  She was nervous, her eyes wide as she took in all of the new faces and sights in the office of the orphanage.  Their 7 year old son pulled on my hand. I looked down and he said, "She's beautiful. Because she has googly eyes."  He was right.  She was beautiful!

The family spent a few minutes asking questions and being made aware of her schedule and a little of her history.  And then the nurses gave her to her new mother, smiled, and said goodbye.  Little "M" was carried into that room an orphan, and 20 minutes later, sweet Chereni (whose name means "star" in Romani) was carried out a daughter. 

Zoran and I were so blessed to be a small part of that day!  It reminded us that we are here for a purpose - and we know exactly what it is.  To make orphans into sons and daughters.  To give them hope and love, and to show them the truth of who they are.  They are precious.  Each and every one.

Please join us as we pray for the Van Niekerk family, as they transition from a family of 5 to a family of 6 - and for sweet Chereni as she learns what it is to be loved by a family.

So, what's next for Lighthouse of Hope?  Several things!

• We would like to start volunteering at the local orphanage in January, after the holidays (Orthodox Christmas is January 7th).  

• We also plan to start working on our NGO website

• We want to start a quarterly email newsletter, to let you know what's happening and how you can be involved

• We are praying about several pieces of property as potential sites for the (future) Lighthouse of Hope group homes 

We have a great team on the board with Lighthouse of Hope and we are excited about the future!  Thanks for reading and for your continued prayers!

Jen & Zo (and the kids)

A Long Time Coming

"I'm baaaaacccckkk" 

Jack Torrence, The Shining

Wow!  I just realized my last blog post was at the beginning of February.  That wasn't intentional. (Well, the February blog post was. But the absence wasn't.)

A lot has happened in the past five months.  For those of you who, like me, have some struggles reading long, drawn out blogs, I'll start with an abbreviated version. If you make it through that, and are still halfway interested, I'll go into more detail in the second half of the blog.

I've titled the first half:  "Top 10 Bullet Points of Interest from the Past Five Months"  (catchy, isn't it?!?)  I'll count down, much like the popular late-night television host from years ago.

10 - The number of day my parents visited with us in Macedonia

9 - The number of times I've told people "I'm dead," instead of "I'm tired" in the Macedonian language (nine is the number from the past two weeks, not all of the months combined.)  

8 - Full time employees Zo now has at the Karpa branch office in Bitola, Macedonia.

7 - Can you believe this is how many weeks we have until school starts??!?!  (Several big changes happening this year in the Naskov schooling plan)

6 - Number of business trips Zo took from mid-February to mid-June.  

5 - Weeks Nattie spent in America 

4 - Kids had birthdays March-June.  (Zo also had a birthday, but that would've made it 5 birthdays, and we are on the #4)

3 - The number of songs the tour guide sang to us during our 30 minute boat tour of the springs at Lake Ohrid.  

2 - Times I survived crossing a border without Zo.

1 - less gallbladder in our family

There you go! You're caught up!

If you are easily bored, now is the time to go back to scrolling through memes or watching metal rust, because here comes the extended version, complete with pictures and not-so-witty commentary. If you're still interested, grab a can of Coca Cola, sit back and enjoy the ride!

10 - My parents visited Macedonia, for the very first time, at the end of June.  We had an awesome visit - even with all the excitement (see #1).  We went to the Bitola zoo, had dinner in Greece, visited Lake Ohrid, walked through downtown Skopje and the old market (and even got to see riot police encircling a group of very buff skinheads - still not sure what that was about).  We also ate dinner at all of our favorite restaurants, had burek so meso at the best shop in an ally off of Shirok Sokak, and shopped in all of the little places we have lovingly given our own names to - like the Green Hill Store, Lowe's, and Food Lion.  We were so sad to see them go, and are already dreaming of the next trip (which will be longer, I can assure you!)

9 - Ok, for what it's worth, it's a honest mistake.  "tired" is "umoren" (ooh-more-en)  "dead" is "umren" (oom-ren).  You can't blame me, right?  Well, the neighbors get a kick out of it.  So there's that. And I realize one is the right way - I just can't remember which one when it's time to say it.

8 - We're excited about how well the Karpa Europe team has come together.  They even had a "team picnic" last month that they were kind enough to invite us to! :D  lol   Great group of people.

7 - So, homeschool has not worked the way we had planned since moving overseas.  It's just not a good fit for everyone in the family, at this point. We've prayed, looked at options, and fretted a bit (just being honest). But we are excited about how we believe this year will be set up. Here's the lowdown (at this point - who knows what it will look like in 7 weeks - haha):

Nattie - will finish last year's schoolwork through Classical Conversations (she got the most behind because she was the one who was needed the most to help with the move and transition. We knew this would happen and had planned for it ahead of time).  Beginning in January, she will start at a private, online school.

Aleks - will start high school (9th grade) at a private, online school. He's looking forward to it, and so am I!

Joe - will continue to homeschool with me.  We will be changing some of the curriculum we are using, to better fit it to his personality and learning style and challenges.

Malachi - September 1st, he will begin 1st grade at the Macedonian public, one-room schoolhouse in our village. Funny fact.  The "school" has 4 students.  Two of them are from Australia and don't speak Macedonian.  One of them (Malachi) is from America and doesn't speak Macedonian. And one of them is from Macedonia and doesn't speak any English.  LOL!!!  To be a fly on the wall.  Thankfully, the teacher is a 30something man, who appears to have a great personality for teaching children and speaks perfect English (and Macedonian, I assume. Haha)  Malachi is really excited!  He's going from a homeschool of four students (his brothers and sister) to a public school of four students.  And it's walking distance from our house.

6 - I actually have no idea how many business trips Zo took, but I am sure it was at least six.  He's been to Mexico, America, Switzerland, and Germany (some of them several times).  Thankfully, he's home until September.  We are soaking in the Tato-time!

5 - Nattie went to the States at the end of May and stayed until the end of June. She had a great time.  She spent time with family in Florida, rode horses with her best friend in North Carolina, and had her birthday in America.  She even had her first-ever fall off a horse while she was there - complete with a trip to Urgent Care (thankfully, nothing was broken).  She said it was interesting to come back to Macedonia and see things in a different light.

4 - Birthdays galore!  Nattie turned 16, Aleks 14, Joe 10, and Malachi "was 6 but now he is 7" (that's how he tells anyone who asks him how old he is.)  Zo also had a birthday.  I'm the only one left and I can't wait, because I have two people I love like crazy cakes, coming to visit me for my 41st!

3 - One of the things we did, while my parents were here, was take a day trip to Ohrid.  It was beautiful. The weather was perfect, the drive was full of giggles, and we took a boat trip around the springs with a delightful man named Nikola (which is the most common name for a man in Macedonia).  He sang to us, told us all kinds of "facts" about the springs and Ohrid, and showed us the books he has written about his experience of 10+ years rowing the tour boat on the springs. (Of course, we bought them).  He was also an excellent photographer of rural Macedonia.  Check him out if you're ever in the area.  www.nikoturs.com

2 - While my parents were visiting, I decided to be all kinds of adventurous and take them for dinner in Greece. So, I piled the four kids, my parents, and myself into a 9 passenger rental van and headed for the border.  All was going splendidly, until we actually got to the border.  On the Macedonia side, I was informed that we were supposed to register my parents at the local police station within 24 hours of their arrival (this was on day 8 of their 10 day trip) and that there would be "penalties" for not having done that.  And there was a brief moment of no one being sure if they could actually leave Macedonia for dinner in Greece, since they hadn't registered.  Thankfully, after 10 minutes of me doing my best to not say anything wrong and apologizing and smiling as much as possible, he let us leave, while assuring us there would be "no problem" with us returning after we ate. Phew!

Now to the Greek border.  I had concentrated for an entire 10 minutes (on the Macedonian side) and that's about my limit, so I made a rookie mistake.  The conversation went something like this.

Him:  "Where are you going?"

Me: "Florina, for dinner."  (I was patting myself on the back for remembering the correct name to call the city, since the Macedonians and Greeks don't agree what it should be called, when the next question came and I wasn't ready for it)

Him:  "After dinner, where are you going?"

Me:  "Back home. To Macedonia."  (DANG IT ALL!!! I knew the minute I said it, I had messed up.)

Him:  laughing, but not the hahaha laugh.  The "stupid, stupid woman - how oh how could you be so foolish" laugh) And then the slow head shake.  "Do not say that name. It is FYROM. Enjoy your dinner."  And he handed me the passports.  Phew, again.  

Oh the joys of living in a part of the world where you're never quite sure how to not anger the people in power (whether it be a little power or a lot of power).  But we made it out (and back in again) and dinner was worth it all!  If you're ever in Florina, Greece, check out Terpsi Restaurant. It is amazing!

1 - less gallbladder in our family.  You'll have to wait a few days for that one.  That's a blog post all it's own.  But here's a sneak peek:

Congrats! You made it to the end of the "I'm baaaaaack!" blog post. I hope you had as much fun reading it as we did, living it!  I've missed you all so much!  And this little blog of ours.

Blessings from our family to yours. Until I write again....

Oleveni or bust!!!

Home is the nicest word there is. 

Laura Ingalls Wilder

See that pretty little home, shining brightly in the center of the picture????  Well, last Thursday, it became ours!  YAY!  We bought at house!

This is sweet Nattie-girl, unlocking the gate for the first time!

We are so excited! Let me share with you a little back story, because often times, that is the most interesting part....

We have been looking at this house since last October. For several reasons (the biggest being that it's not a "legalized" home), we thought it wouldn't work out. Then, in December, the Macedonian government passed a law allowing a grace period for non-registered homes to become legalized. We immediately filed the paperwork and began the process of legalization, and we began pursuing the purchase of the home (again).

We didn't know much history about the house, other than it's been empty for many, many years, and the man who built it for his family is deceased, and ownership had been transferred to a distant relative, living in Australia. Last Thursday, when Zo signed the paperwork, the great nephew of the original owner (Nikola) shared with Zo this history.

Nikola and his wife (who were born in 1911 and 1914, respectively) had five children. They lived in the village of Oleveni (where our home is located), in a older homestead. After WWII, when the former Yugoslavia was still reeling from the ravages of war, Nikola packed up what he could carry, kissed his wife and children goodbye, and ran for the Greek border, in search of a better life. Let that sink in.  He was a refugee.

At the border with Greece, he was shot at, and then made to live in a refugee camp for two months before he was granted passage to Australia.  Imagine his wife's fear as she waited to hear from her husband. Imagine the children - unsure of their father's fate.

Nikola made it safely to Australia and was granted asylum with a refugee status.  He then began working, so that he could send for his wife and five children. I don't know how long it took him, but eventually, he was able to save enough money for his family to join him in Australia.  And there they stayed, for almost 25 years.  But their hearts were in Macedonia, so when it was safe to do so, in the late 70's Nikola and his wife returned.  And they built our house.

It has been amazing to find their old passports, showing their trips to Australia and back. The house even has family pictures (most of which make the kids laugh - imagine 1970's Eastern Europe family photos). The beauty and love that was built into that home has already been a blessing to us, and we haven't even moved in yet.  I love that God cares about the details (as my friend, Kassie, reminded me).  That we arrived in Macedonia last Fall, were immediately moved to help the refugees crossing through Greece, while seeking a place to put down roots and establish as our home.  And God saw fit to lead us to a house that was built by a refugee.  For his family. For their life. With hope for a future. Wow!  See why we are excited?

For those of you who are interested in knowing more about the area, here are a couple of facts about Oleveni:

• Oleveni is a village that is 5 miles outside of Bitola, Macedonia and about 8 miles from the border with Greece.
• In 2002, the population of Oleveni was 157.
• The artifacts and prayer chapels that we posted pictures of two weeks ago, are in the village.
• When we move in, our address will be:  The Family Naskov, Oleveni Village, Macedonia.  Hahahaha!  I guess the mailman will just figure out which house is ours! 

As a side note, but of equal importance in establishing our life in Macedonia.... Karpa of Europe (Zo's company) hired it's first four software employees (two started this past Monday and two more will start next week).  We also hired a office/life assistant for Karpa. She started Monday as well.  Which was perfect timing, since we have a TON to do to get ready to move in and get the business up and running. She's part-time translator and building contractor with me and part-time office administrator with Zo.  Never a dull moment around here! 

So now you know why it's been a little quiet from the Naskov front, as of late.  We have been crazy busy!  I can't wait to show you more pictures, as we make progress in getting our new home move-in ready!  

Naskov Family Update (hopefully a tad more exciting than the title implies)

"HAPPY, HAPPY, JOY, JOY"

- Ren & Stimpy

So many people (at least two or three) have asked how we are doing, as a family, so I thought this blog post would be better suited to give a quick update....To help me not chase rabbits, I'll organize the blog by person - oldest to youngest.

OH CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN:  Zo has been hard at work, securing additional office space, so that he can hire the first 2-3 employees for the Karpa (European branch), a task that has proven to be more time-consuming and difficult than we ever anticipated.

He has also been invaluable as "Translator Extraordinaire" for the rest of us. He rescues me when I "bite off more than I can chew" (at stores, doc appointments, phone calls, border crossings, etc), which is a regular occurrence.

He is the strong and steady for our family of 8 (if you count the dog and the cat), who are constantly confused (yes, the dog and cat are confused as well) - whether it be language, culture, new foods, getting lost, or yelling border agents (obviously that was a traumatic event for me, since I'm in the first section and have already mentioned it twice).

THE SQUIRREL:  I am working (though not as diligently as I wish) on acquiring the Macedonian language as fast as possible.  This is not as easy as I thought it would be - I blame it on my 40th birthday last August.  Maybe if I had started when I was 39......

Zo is grateful for any language progression I make; however, I think the shop owners are protesting.  They seem to prefer my broken Macedonian.  It makes for lots of laughs.  A perfect example happened a couple of weeks back.

I got a hankerin' for some bar-b-que, and since I had recently acquired a crockpot from an American moving back to the States, I decided Pork Sandwiches would do just the trick.  Now, if I were back home, I would've gone to Ingles and grabbed a Boston Butt in the meat department.  I wasn't sure how to say "Boston" and I wasn't sure that the pork here would be of the "Boston" variety (I need to Google where that name comes from), so I decided just to ask the butcher at the local supermarket for a "pork butt".  Sounds simple enough, right?  

I waited until everyone else had finished at the meat counter, so as to minimize my embarrassment.  I politely said (in broken Macedonian), "Hello, can I please have a pork butt?"  However, unfortunately, the only word I know for "butt" translates as "a$#".  He looked at me quizzically and replied, "Excuse me?"  Gathering all of the confidence I could muster, I did what I make fun of people for doing to me when I can't understand their language - I said it louder.  "CAN I PLEASE HAVE A PORK A#*???????"  Ok, at this point, the dude lost it.  He got hysterical.  Completely, unashamedly (for him) hysterical. And much to my horror, he decided to call the women from the deli counter over, so he could tell them what I wanted.  And then he started grabbing various body parts on his own body, asking which kind I wanted (which sounds a little more risque than it actually was).  So now I have a couple of deli women standing there, laughing at me, while the butcher does some kind of Justin Timberlake dance number.  Good times. I grabbed the first hunk of pork that the guy finally showed me, and made a beeline for the cash register.

I got to the car, related the story to Zo, who was wondering what was taking so long.  He seemed to find it just as funny as the butcher did.  Apparently, the piece of pork I was looking for is not called a "pork butt" in Macedonia, making my poor, profane translation that much funnier.  

Three weeks later, I'm walking through the grocery store, and I hear someone yell in Macedonian, "Hey pork a#*!!!!"  I look over, and there is the butcher, waving and smiling.  Wow.  That was some kind of special!  I don't think I've ever been called that before - and I would probably be okay with never being called that again!  

Moving on.....I am also trying to figure out how to homeschool in a culture that is more relationship-based than project-oriented.  So all "quick trips to someone's house or to the store" end up being 3-4 hour events.  That's a new thing and honestly, I haven't figured out how to navigate those waters just yet.

C3PO (inside joke):  Nattie is adjusting well to life in Macedonia.  She has made friends with a girl named Vesna, and has enjoyed getting to know her better and they've hung out a couple of times.

She has also been taking Roxy on walks around the city - since the two of them are having the hardest time adjusting to not being able to "run wild and free".  They are both looking forward (Nattie says Roxy specifically told her so) to finding a place out in a village somewhere, to run around.





BLOB FISH:  If you ask Aleks what he likes most about Macedonia, his immediate response is: THE FOOD!!!!  He loves it. All of it.  Fresh onions, grilled mushrooms, bread, cucumbers...the list goes on and on...

He has found the local "American Corner" where he can go a couple of times a month and play board games with local teens, where they can work on their English (and he can pretend he's working on his Macedonian).

We have found him an orthodontist that he says reminds him of 1/2 Dedo (Zo's dad) and 1/2 Professor Snake from Harry Potter. Aleks has had "fun" learning the difference between dentists in America and dentists in Macedonia.  (You'll have to ask him, next time you see him - it's quite a hoot to hear him describe it).

JOEJOE BEAN:  This is my "city life lovin'" kid!!!  He loves EVERYTHING about city life.  He enjoys all of the people out on the street, watching the crazy drivers fit through impossibly tight spaces, street dogs, corner fast food places, the late night schedule everyone keeps here, and everything else that makes living in the city what it is.

He's doing well in Macedonian class.  He has 90% of the alphabet memorized (there are 31 letters in the Macedonian alphabet), and knows all of the greetings and anything related to food or ordering at restaurants.



DRAGAN:  Malachi is a name that no one understands over here, so after we try 3 or 4 times unsuccessfully, to tell people what his name is, we usually just say "Dragan" (his middle name) and they are satisfied.  Dragan is a Macedonian name, so no one here thinks it's strange - unlike in America.

Malachi Dragan is absorbing the language like a sponge, but he only lets it out when we least expect it (and didn't realize he knew the word).

He loves the food, like his brother Aleks, but he reminds us at least 3 times a week that he's "still an American!!!!"



Our "TEAM" UPDATE:

• We are still working on finding a permanent housing arrangement. An explanation of what all that takes could fill 12 blog posts.
• We have begun our first steps toward connecting with the local government orphanage (as a matter of fact, we are planning our second visit on Friday of this week)
• We are digging celebrating two Christmas' (ours and the Orthodox version on January 7), as well as New Year's Eve (when Grandfather Ice "Dedo Mraz" visits) and Kolede (which is today and is when they have bonfires all over the city and the kids go trick-or-treating).  So basically, from December 24 to January 8, Santa Claus will be at our house 3 times and we will go trick-or-treating.  Sugar overload, anyone?!?!?
• We are still helping at the refugee camp in Gevgelija, though a crazy illness I had (which would be way TMI for me to explain) sidelined us for 3 weeks.  

2015 was an absolute whirlwind and there are many mornings when I wake up and think, "Do we really live on the other side of the world?!?!?"  It usually takes about 30 seconds for me to hear the Muslim call to prayer from the local mosque or smell burning wood seeping through the windows, for me to get the answer.  

Needless to say, we are crazy-excited about 2016 and can't wait to see what God has in store for us! We love you and miss you all!!!  Thank you for your encouragement and prayers for our family.

As a fun post-script, I asked the kids to give me three words to describe Macedonia for the blog.  These were their (almost exact) responses:

• Nattie:   city, mountains, insanedrivers (she told me that "insane drivers" could be one word, as long as I made sure everyone understood she wasn't saying "insaned rivers")

• Aleks:  social, peer pressure, enjoyment (apparently the concept of THREE words is difficult for my children)

• Joe: "best place I've ever been in my life", "amazing", "great food" (he asked me several times to explain what I meant by "three words" and then said, "oh, I get it!" and gave me his answers)

• Malachi:  gevrek, burek so meso, pizza, "and I know it's number four, but I have to say pileshki prsti, too" (his are all food-related)

MERRY CHRISTMAS and HAPPY NEW YEAR from BITOLA, MACEDONIA!!!!

The Girl, the Jacket, and the Lesson

“In these bodies we will live. In these bodies we will die.

And where you invest your love, you invest your life.”

Awake My Soul, Mumford and Sons   

A LITTLE BACKGROUND

Well, there has been a lot in the news, this past week, about the refugees (specifically at the Greek/Macedonian border). With Croatia and Serbia both deciding to only accept refugees from Syria, Iraq, and Afghanistan, those from other countries are stuck in a geo-political quagmire. Macedonia followed suit, and is only allowing refugees from those three countries into the camp. Because of communication issues, political issues, and all around confusion with the situation, refugees and migrants from many countries are still coming.  So, when those from the countries that aren't accepted arrive at the border, they are not permitted entry. This becomes a particularly messy problem when they can't go back, because Greece won't permit them.  This week, alone, there are over 1,500 refugees stuck in the "neutral zone" between the two countries.  The neutral zone is nothing other than a rocky field, guarded by police on both sides. No infrastructure, no food (unless one of the relief agencies is able to deliver it - which is always a dance because it's in between countries), no shelter, and most frustratingly, no communication.  The police and military on either side are unable to make decisions and also unable to communicate with the people.  The need for interpreters is great. Tensions have been rising, as many of you have probably seen, on videos that have made their rounds on Facebook.

FAST FORWARD

So, Zo and I arrived at the camp on Saturday, around 2 PM.  On the 2 hour drive, we noticed (for the first time) several groups of refugees walking down the highway.  Strange, we thought.

We had a lot of supplies to deliver. We noticed, immediately that all of the people that were in laying in sleeping bags (outside the fence), the week before were gone. Big UNHCR tents had been installed outside the fence, but there were very few people inside.  We asked where everyone went.  The workers said that half of them ran away and the other half were taken back to the neutral zone, to await a decision from the governments.

 

SUPPLIES

The supply shed was almost full, with jackets, rain boots for kids, and socks, etc. It was obvious that a corporation had made some donations. For that, we were thankful.  We unloaded the gloves, diaper wipes, winter hats, etc (and we were happy to see that the supplies we bought weren't duplicating the items they had).

KIDS TENT

We filled our pockets with mini chocolate bars, like we always do, and headed for one of the two kids' tents.  Something was off.  We stepped inside and started asking questions about the week (just like we always do).  While we were talking to the staff, a group of 5-6 children, the oldest being about 8, came running into the tent. They immediately surrounded the worker, dropped to their hands and knees and started grabbing anything they could get their hands on.  Anything and everything. Diapers, wipes, bottles, clothes.  Everything.  Then they would jump up, hands full, and run out of the tent.  It happened over and over, while we tried, in vain, to get them to stop. I walked outside and started handing out candies. Not a single smile. The children were wild-eyed and acting like desperate animals. Then they started running up behind me and trying to steal chocolates out of my pockets. Nothing like this has ever happened before. They didn't understand any English.  They weren't listening. It was chaotic. I went back inside the tent, and then the older girls started coming in, with the children. Asking for so many things.  Pointing to everything we had. They were shivering. (It was quite cold - about 46 degrees and very windy)  I found a toddler that was in need, so I went back to the supply shed to retrieve warm clothes for him.  When I walked into the tent, holding a pair of sweat pants and socks, two separate teenage/women grabbed them out of my hands.

I had to physically grab them back to give them to the child that I was helping at the moment.

One worker was holding a bottle, trying to communicate with a man holding a baby, when a little boy about 6 years old, ran past, grabbed the bottle out of his hand and fled the tent.  The worker had to chase the boy down and take the bottle back.

At one point, while I tried to help a woman and her baby, a teenage girl tapped on my shoulder and asked for a hat.  "I don't have one," I said. "For children, only."  She had no idea what I was saying. She wouldn't leave. She just kept pointing to her head. And shivering.  She was in the way. I was busy. So, to get her to leave, I took the brand new winter hat off my head and handed it to her. She smiled, and walked away.

Then the men joined in. They would bring in children, and ask for shoes. We would say "no, they have shoes" and they would take them out of the tent, and bring them back without shoes on. The same children. And then tell us they lost the shoes.  They were taking everything, even items that didn't fit them or they had several of.  It was out of control.

And, to be honest, I was furious. (I even told Zo that if I knew Farsi, I would ask for my hat back.)

One other "moment" happened while we were there. I will tell you about it shortly.  But first, I want you to understand the state of my heart and my attitude.

We left, after about 90 minutes. And me, being the dainty, quiet woman I am, gave Zo an earful the entire way to the van.

"These are not refugees. These are animals."  

"The Syrians are better." 

"This people group is not cool. Not cool at all."  

"Not a single smile from a child. Not a thank you for a chocolate."

"Did you see that kid grab the pants out of my hand?!?"

"How in the heck to I blog this????? No one will EVER give us another donation to help refugees if I tell them what happened today. And I wouldn't blame them."

The entire way home, I was mad. But I also had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I knew what it was, but I couldn't voice it.  We got home, took the kids out for dinner, and settled in for the night. Still, the pit was there. Ever tugging. I tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore it.

You see, it was that girl. The one with the hat.....no.....with MY hat. She might have been sixteen years old. She was with the group that was stealing and grabbing. And she had my hat. Yes, she was shivering. She had no socks on.  Her clothes were a thin polyester material.  But she was really bugging me. She kept following me around. And asking for things.  But we couldn't communicate.  And then. She asked me for a jacket.  "No, I don't have one. I'm sorry."  While I thought to myself, "Now, go away! Stop staring and smiling at me!" She just stood there. Shivering. And she touched the sleeve of my jacket. And I was really mad.  But, I was taught well, and I smiled and said, "No, I'm sorry. I don't have a jacket for you."  Still she stared at me. And she did it. She tugged on my sleeve again. And I looked into her eyes and realized that she was asking for my jacket. And I walked away.

I knew it. The moment I did it. Sure, I had a ton of reasons why I didn't need to give her my jacket.  It's the only one I had. It's cold. I have to stay warm to stand here, and help the rest of these people, right?  Does she even really need it? Will she use it? Will my jacket end up on the side of the road, not being used by anyone (myself, included)?  She will probably toss it to the side, like many of them do, when it gets too hot and difficult to carry heavy jackets.

But, honestly, the biggest "reason" I repeated to myself was:  "She doesn't deserve it." 

That woman/child walked away, without a jacket, because I didn't think she deserved mine.  You see, I had judged an entire people group, based on one encounter with 50 of them.  And I had deemed them to be unworthy. Unworthy of our supplies. Unworthy of our help.  Unworthy of the chocolates. Unworthy of my hat. My jacket.....unworthy of my love.

I cried as I told Zo of my unforgiving heart.  I cried as I asked God to forgive me for my selfish and disgusting attitude. I cried as I realized that I lost the ability to show Love, at that moment, in that tent, to the people around me.  I cried because I knew that I couldn't ask that girl to forgive me. And I couldn't fix it. I couldn't find her, and give her the jacket.  I couldn't make it right.

And then Zo reminded me, that because of my broken heart and because of His great love for me, God had already forgiven me. Thank God for His wonderful work, even as I am still trying to accept it.

So please, hear my heart. The people this past Saturday had some major issues.  They weren't dignified, and polite, and "cultured" (whatever that means).  They grabbed things out of our hands. They stole from us and others. But that doesn't change the need. Actually, if anything, it solidifies the need.

The need for help.

The need for love.

Ultimately, the need for Truth.

And so, we press on.

Reflections....

"Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you." 

Matthew 28:19

If I've read that verse once, I've read it a thousand times. I've taught it to song, during Kid's Worship. I've written it. I've typed it. I know it inside and out. If you have spent any amount of time in an Evangelical church, I'm sure you can recite it by heart, as well.  But I missed a key part. Sure, I know it. But I completely missed it. I'll give you a little background.

I was raised as part of the "Christian Right".  I don't know who coined that phrase, nor do I care. But that is how I would've described myself.  I listened to Rush Limbaugh, as a child.  I even wanted to run for President of the United States (those dreams were dashed when my dad told me he would vote against me). Haha!  But I digress...I dreamt of being Ann Coulter when I grew up - a strong woman, who knows what she believes and doesn't back down. I ran the local Tea Party in my town, attending commissioner meetings and marching on Washington with hundreds of thousands of "patriotic Americans" just like me. But somewhere along the way, I got lost.... I started believing that the Conservative Movement was "Christian" first and "Right Leaning" second. I would've never admitted it, because that would be awful (and honestly I don't think I even realized that's what I believed), but for the most part, I saw Heaven separated into nations, with America having the biggest and best piece of land. I didn't have a problem with different colors of skin, a fact I was quite proud of. But I did see a definite separation between peoples of different countries. 

But then God.

Then God dug me up by my very shallow roots and planted me on the other side of the world, in an Eastern European country, with a culture I don't understand, that is in the middle of a refugee crisis. And then Paris. And Mali. And Nigeria. And Beirut.  And I find myself with the opposite viewpoint of my friends on the "Christian Right." My foundation has been shaken. And I thank God for that. Because my roots were shallow. I placed being American on the same level as being Christian. I hate typing that. But it's true. 

But then God. 

I have read Scripture that I have heard over and over again, with a new set of eyes, trying desperately to see people from other countries through God's eyes, and with God's heart for the nations. 

I'm scared.  Standing at the refugee camp yesterday, in "no man's land" between the two borders, with the people who are stuck between countries, was scary. Zo and I were encircled by 7-10 Middle Eastern men, asking us questions about what is happening to them, and my stomach was in a knot. But, slowly, slowly, I started seeing past their clothing, and age, and accents, and saw something different. Were they telling us the truth about their intentions? I have no idea. Were we in danger? I don't know that either.  Was I afraid? Absolutely. 

When a woman inside the camp, who I was giving diapers to, said, "Akbar" to me, my stomach flipped.  And then I realized she was just saying the diaper size was "great".  Wow.  The momentary fear from hearing that word.  From knowing she was either from Afghanistan, Iraq, or Syria. From knowing that I could be talking to someone who wanted me dead because I am a Christian.  

But then God.

So, yesterday, I took pictures. A lot of pictures. Pictures of people. Made in the image of God.  People that God loves.  And not a single person there was an American. Or part of the Christian Right. 

I don't presume to recommend what governments should do.  I am not implying that we should not vet people or be cautious, as a nation.  This post is more for me than it is for anyone else.  Because I'm still trying to work this all out in my heart and in my mind. But I want, more than anything, to love the people that God loves. And plant my roots deep, on the foundation that God designed. And to bring Him honor in the middle of this mess. So, I will share with you the pictures of the people that I saw at the camp yesterday. And I ask that you will join me in praying for them. And for us.  

Because He promised, in the second part of that verse (above) that He will be with us always, until the end of the age.  And I'm banking on that promise because He is faithful.

These two little punkins were so engrossed in shoveling noodles into their mouths, that they didn't even look up/notice when I handed them chocolate .  They were absolutely beautiful.

He actually asked me to take his picture.  He was sitting outside the children's tent, waiting on his mother to change his little brother's diaper.  His backpack was way too heavy for him, but he didn't say a word. An older brother, having to grow up faster than he should.  

He was so shy. That is, until he saw the chocolate.  Then he was all smiles!

When I took his picture, he giggled. And then I showed him what he looked like on my camera screen, and he threw his head back and belly laughed.  Oh, my heart.

"The little apple boy" kept hiding from me, behind the tent flaps.  But I have found I can get really far with a smile and a chocolate.  Finally, after some coaxing, he came out, smiled, and gladly accepted the chocolate.  

I'm not sure he could find the missing puzzle piece, I was there for over two hours, and he had that around his neck for the entire time. Haha!

She was precious.  Very busy moving the rocks from the right side of the board, to the left side. One at a time. Over and over again. Squat, pick up rock, place it on the other side, stand up, and then squat again.  When I gave her the chocolate, she turned and took it to her mother. And then back to her work again.

My favorite. She was so dirty. Absolutely filthy. No smile. But every single time I would hand out chocolates, she would run from wherever she was, and stand silently in the line. One chocolate per child. Except for her. She got four or five. Always silently. Always running right back to the pile of bags. No family to be seen, until later, when she was leading her younger sibling around, like a little mother hen.  I wanted to hug her. But she was so reserved, and I didn't want to scare her.

Sitting on a cardboard box, in the middle of the refugee camp.  Her mother had no diapers.  The baby girl's diaper was obviously days old and her rash was so bad.  I found fresh diapers, some diaper rash cream, and wet wipes for sensitive skin.  The pain was great and she sobbed. But with a fresh diaper and some medicine, she will be better soon.  I gave her mom 4 more diapers, for the journey.

There are real people behind the headlines.  Real people that have brothers and sisters and sons and daughters. People who are scared, too.  Many of them didn't realize how difficult the journey would be.  They, too have heard the stories of boats sinking in the sea. Of borders closing. Of terrorist attacks.  People made in the image of God. Who need to be prayed for. And helped.

People who need to be loved.