Two Sides of Life

On one hand: I woke up this morning on the Macedonian shore of Lake Dojran. Looking across its glassy surface I could see the rugged mountain peaks of Greece. The majestic view is breathtaking. I sipped my coffee and tried to absorb the weight of this experience. So much history. So much beauty. So much to think about. I recognized the privilege of being alive in this moment.

On the other hand: We are homeless. The Bulgarian government has taken its time in granting our resident visas. Our temporary visas have expired and we were forced to leave the country.  Everything we own, our friends, our home, all inaccessibly lay four hours away on the other side of the Bulgarian border. The feeling of powerlessness is pervasive. So little sense can be made of the whole affair. We live in Bulgaria to do good. How could all the red tape keep us from our calling? And now we find ourselves unintentionally sojourning in Macedonia.

On the other hand: The hospitality extended to us by our new friends in Macedonia is indescribable. When a friend of a friend heard of our situation he volunteered for us to stay in his home free of charge. In this part of the world, when you are someone’s guest, you become their responsibility. Your host becomes your protector and your servant. They will do any and everything to take care of you. When our friend’s house proved to be unavailable to us, he worked for hours to provide a place for us to stay. Now we are inhabiting two rooms of a small hotel in Southern Macedonia where other new friends are going to great lengths to meet our every need. We are humbled by their service to us.

On the other hand: For the first time in the international aspect of my life, I have had the desire to give up. Perhaps this is all just too hard. Why should I subject my family to all of this turmoil? Why not just return to the States and do something easier? At least in America we don’t have to fight the bureaucracy just to have the right to live there. Is this all worth it?

On the other hand: Quitting is not an option. We have no doubt that God has called us to Bulgaria. The needs are so clear and so great. The poverty, the hopelessness, cry out to us. God is somehow in the middle of all of it. Nikola,the owner of our small hotel is a believer. He told me, “I am all alone.” The closest small church is over an hour’s drive away and he doesn’t have a car. He shared that he had been praying for someone to come and mentor him. This morning I had the inexpressible joy of reading through the first chapters of John with him in Macedonian. How incredible! In this place of desperation, I find myself doing the thing I love most in a language that is close to one I know. 

Life is often complicated. I do not understand much of what happens within my own existence. Questions like “how?,” “when?,” and “why?,” often go unanswered. And yet when we are able to take our eyes off of ourselves, we can see the mystery of God’s hand around us.

Lessons from a Bulgarian Plumber

Something is wrong in this picture. This is the water faucet in our shower. Perhaps I missed something in my years of fixing things, but isn’t a faucet supposed to face down instead of toward the wall? Why was it installed this way? Did the plumber decide that it looked better backwards? Perhaps he thought that spot on the wall may need perpetual cleaning? Was Vodka involved? And most perplexing, why haven’t I fixed it properly?

Taking a shower is a bit of an adventure for us. First, as you can see, the plumber employed a great deal of creative license in his work. I suspect he simply did not have the needed 90 degree elbows to finish the job correctly. So this would have to do. Second, the inexpensive faucet basically acts as an on and off switch. The water exiting its orifice is either really hot or really cold. It usually takes me four minutes of precious hot water time to adjust it to an acceptable temperature. Third, the shower is about the size of a cat’s litter box. Fourth, the shower curtain was hung so that it’s bottom extends about an inch above the lip of the shower basin and water goes everywhere.

On these cool, rushed fall mornings showers have become a source of frustration. Why do I have to put up with this ridiculous excuse of a bathing station? I stand there in the cold lightly tapping the facet handle to the right   . . . too cold . . . back to the left . . . too hot . . . back to the right . . . frigid . . . and it goes on. It is not that I am so picky, but a temperature somewhere between that needed to make ice cream and that needed to boil crawfish would be nice. Once the water is adjusted to a bearable state, I enter the phone booth. I try to reach all the places that need washing without either pushing the curtain beyond the edge of the basin, or accidentally touching the faucet handle thereby knocking the water out of adjustment, a truly alarming experience. Once through washing, I have to try to get dressed without soaking my clothes in water that has escaped all over the floor.

This past Wednesday morning brought my frustration to a head. Once again, I had accidently hit the faucet handle while washing and experienced the invigoration of ice cold water pouring down me. I tried to scrunch to one side of the phone booth while I reached around the water flow to readjust. In my mind I screamed at the plumber. What kind of a . . . . would do something like this???  One thought gripped my mind and changed my attitude.

Gratitude. I get to take a hot shower. Most in the world don’t. Hot baths are a precious luxury. Even in Bulgaria, my bathing situation is far above average. How many in the world will never take a warm, unpolluted shower? I can either let the frustration over my lack grow, or I can graciously celebrate what I do have. The choice is mine. What is my responsibility to those around me who don’t know the luxuries I daily experience? What about the hungry? What is my obligation? Even at this very moment as I write I look out my apartment window and see a man and his young daughter digging through our garbage. When is the last time they had the privilege of a hot shower?

If you are interested, follow this link to get a little perspective:  Miniature Earth

Thanks for reading about the Sofia Effect,

John

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