My time in Albania is quickly running short! There are so many things I still want to do and people I still want to see, but I suppose I could stay here for the rest of my life and pretty much feel the same way. I’ve begun mentally preparing for re-entry into my home culture. Returning from the field is hard for most people. I began reading a book about how to handle it, and Ken and Dawn are helping me know what to expect. So far, what I predict to be the most difficult point of adjustment is the feeling of purpose I have had throughout my stay here. The goal of my job seems simple – work as a development practitioner to meet physical needs within the community while developing relationships that open opportunities to share the gospel. Because the ministry field is so fresh

(no church), ministry is very basic. It’s different in the United States, because churches are very common, and there are a multitude of ministries available. Plus, somehow my choice of vocation seems to complicate how I perceive my life as ministry. Yet isn’t my life a ministry, whether I’m a missionary in an unreached area, a Christian community developer, a teacher, a waitress, a factory worker, a businessperson, or whatever I am? Perhaps the issue is embracing whatever situation I’m in and seeking to be an ambassador of Christ’s love wherever I am. Being a Christian doesn’t even guarantee that I will be successful; it only matters that I’m obedient to His call on my life. That could mean that I sell all my stuff and move to the mission field. Or it could mean I stay put at home for a while and seek to be a blessing there. I thought I would have figured out by now which of those options I’m supposed to do, but I’m still waiting for that answer. I’ve been waiting for almost a year. I guess I can wait a little longer.

Here’s a good story: On Saturday Anisa took Danika, Heather, and me to the beach. She wanted to take us to one of her favorite local beaches where tourists don’t go because it’s quieter with few people there. She said it’s much cleaner than the tourist beaches nearer the city because it’s further away. We took the bus as far as the road would go and then walked up some steep hills. When we reached the top we could see the water, blue and beautiful in the sun beneath us. We had to practically scale down the hills because apparently there used to be a bridge that allowed for easier transport to the bottom where the beach was but it was destroyed. We made it down with only a few slips, and indeed – there was plenty of room on the beach. I noticed a few bits of trash on the beach, and later in the morning I observed more objects floating in the water, but this didn’t seem terribly out of place since I’m used to seeing litter all the time in the Kënet. We stayed about four hours, got sunburned, and went swimming when we got too hot. It was a lovely afternoon, and we all felt quite re-energized from the trip. The next morning Ken and Dawn asked us where we had gone. We told them we’d traveled a good distance away from the city. Dawn’s response was, “Do you know why there were hardly any people there?” That wasn’t the response we were expecting. She explained that the place we’d gone is just below where the three main city sewage canals empty into the sea. Whoops. So that’s what went floating by in the water.