Accepting the Gift

"It is more blessed to give than to receive."

For this fiercely independent American girl living in Albanian culture, to give means to receive graciously. To accept the lavish gift of relationship poured out upon me. To share a whole lot more of myself than what's comfortable and give up my privacy and independence.


Since I am a female currently serving alone in my ministry position, my Albanian neighbors and friends are especially concerned that I not be alone. Now, having been socialized to need private "space" to keep things and thoughts that are mine only, it is disconcerting when every time I leave the house, I am asked, "Where are you headed to? Are you going to work?" Or I return from the store with groceries and hear, "What did you buy?" with an inquisitive look into my bags. Or the kids come upstairs and see the small pineapple I have on the counter, a rare commodity which I planned to enjoy quite on my own… "What's this?" they ask wide-eyed, because they've never seen a pineapple before, and I then feel obligated to share my precious pineapple.

My socialized interpretation of those behaviors says, "Those things are none of your business," while for Albanians those questions reflect simple curiosity, even friendliness. The behaviors say, I care enough to come see you and ask you questions.

I am working on language homework, and someone says, "Don't stay upstairs in your house… you'll be lonely! If you're home, come be with us." When a friend says, "Where have you been? You haven't come to visit in so long!" (It's not been a full two weeks.) And sometimes even when the landlady says, "You're my girl, " my insides scream, No, I'm not yours! I am my own person with my own stuff, and I can take care of myself!

But the truth is, I can't take care of myself, and I do need them to worry about me.

Because of them I know that people are more important than production. I am valued more than time or work.

Because of them I am tightly connected with multiple families, treated as a daughter and welcomed in the home to talk any time I am inclined.

Because of them, (and because of the pressure I have felt from them to constantly visit) I have learned to converse in their language at a basic level and can enjoy a new level of richness in the relationship they offer. We can share about our lives with one another.

What an incredible gift I have been given - to be part of the family. To think if I had not let them in, if I had not pressed through all those times when I felt interrupted, invaded, disconnected. To think if I had not accepted that gift of relationship they offered me. I would not now have all the fathers & mothers, sisters & brothers, grandmothers & grandfathers, aunts & uncles, sons & daughters that I now have. And here, your family is your identity. That's why a husband and wife from our church recently sat me down, shared about their lives, and then told me, "From now on, we want to have an open and honest relationship with you, and you with us. If you're sad or frustrated, say so. If you don't want to talk, tell us and we'll stop talking to you. If you need a place to go, call and come over. This is your mother," the husband said, "and you can call me 'Uncle'. We are here for you, and we don't want you to be alone."

I am certainly never alone here. I have been "adopted" several times over. It's not easy, because accepting the gift of relationship means letting go of much of that independence and privacy I cling to. Yet as I give them up, I receive something much better - I receive the deep richness of relationship within the most integral societal relationship here. I have family.