Wedding Weekend

One of my Albanian "sisters" - Blerta - just got married. The experience proved particularly unique since I had lived in this family's home and am considered one of the sisters. Once you have been taken into a home and cared for by a family, you hold a special place of honor and respect in their circle. That honor is extended over and over… it cannot be earned, is not easily removed, and it must simply be accepted.

A wedding in Albanian culture is far more extravagant than a wedding in my home culture. For starters, it is more like two weddings… one for the bride and one for the groom. The bride's family hosts their extended family, friends, and neighbors to a wedding feast and celebration on Saturday, and the groom's family holds a separate celebration for their invitees on Sunday.

The Wedding, Take One

For the wedding, guests began arriving Saturday afternoon at the bride's home, where they registered as attendees and were served coffee. This part challenged my cultural knowledge and social know-how for sure… trying to figure out how each guest was related to the family, whom it was necessary that I greet, and when. Understanding people was next-to-impossible, with their thick northern dialect, which is hardly understood by other Albanians. On top of that, loud traditional music blared from speakers across the yard. Thus most of my conversations consisted of, "Hi, how are you? How are you related to the family? What was that? I'm sorry I can't understand you, can you repeat what you said? I'm sorry, I still can't hear…" 

Evening finally came, and everyone trekked to the local wedding venue together. I walked into the wedding hall along with some neighbors with whom I'd been chatting. When the waiter came to seat me, I fully expected to be led along after the neighbors to their table, but the bride's father said, "Jessica, you are going to sit at my table with the family and my daughters."

Llesh (father of the bride) and I in the middle

I don't know well how to gracefully accept gifts or gestures of honor, and instead said, "Oh, wait… are you sure? Aren't I taking someone else's place?" As soon as the words came out of my mouth I realized that I had disdained the honor he desired to place upon me as the American "daughter" in his care. I can only hope he couldn't fully understand me.

The bride and groom dance together

We danced Albanian wedding dances all night, going round and round the room in a giant circle. Sometimes I would sit down and eat a bit… oh the food! Albanian weddings are a never-ending supply of rich food, beginning with a giant plate piled high. Then throughout the evening, waiters bring out a second helping of meat to each guest. A bit later, a third. Then a fourth, with fried potatoes this time! I observed, however, that no one else at the table seemed to be focused on their food... They would take a bite, then rest the fork back on the plate, sit back and wait a few minutes, watch the dancing. Then they might get around to taking another bite. I had purposely eaten little that day, knowing that there would be tons of food; plus, I had expended a great deal of energy dancing… I was so hungry! But no one else at the family's table was eating much. It felt totally wrong to leave so much food on my plate, but if I had dug into the food as I really desired to, it would have been rude. No joke, I left that extravagant feast still hungry!

Blerta, the beautiful bride

Eventually, the DJ announced that the special guests had arrived: the groom with his party of around 20 guests. Everyone in the room stood up as they entered in a line and greeted the bride and her oldest brother, one by one. A little later Lleshi told my Albanian sisters and I to stand up. Our table was supposed to go greet everyone who had just arrived with the groom. That wasn't too bad… but then the family began going around to each table, greeting people. I hadn't been given instructions about what I was expected to do at that point, and the other sisters were in conversation a couple tables ahead of me. I didn't want to be rude and ignore the guests if the family were expected to greet everyone, so I simply followed suit after the sisters and did all I knew to do… by  going around to every table, greeting every single person in attendance. If no one had noticed my oddity by that point, they sure did then!

The wedding ended about 1:30 AM. I was sore from hours of dancing, amazed at the experience, and quite ready to cozy up in bed until noon the next day. Then my Albanian father told me to be back at the bride's house at 7 AM for the bridal send-off. Don't expect much sleep during wedding weekend.

The Wedding, Take Two

I arrived at the house at seven, expecting I might be there a couple hours and looking forward to getting into bed again afterwards. Guests slowly trickled in who'd been at the wedding the night before. No sign of the bride. Someone put on music, and I danced with some of the other single girls and cousins. Ten AM… here she came, decked out in another gorgeous white wedding dress, different than that of the previous day, and everyone stood up as she made her way into the house. 

To my surprise then, a couple of vehicles pulled up at the house. A procession of about twenty people, all in suits and dresses, soon followed after the bride into the house. They were the groom's party and went inside to eat a small meal with the bride's family. 

Since April when the bride was engaged, her mother and sisters had busily spent their spare hours crocheting decorative doilies and bedcovers, embroidering bedsheets, and buying anything else that they chose not to make… curtains, towels, dishes, new clothes, floor carpets, and lots more. As the meal was finished, all of the dowry items were packed into cars. Finally, the bride came from outside the house, with sisters and aunts holding up her hem… and she was weeping. Her mother followed, in the same emotional state. For 28 years the bride had lived with her family, labored to clean the home and feed the family, spending little time in other social circles, spending almost all her hours, apart from at work, with her family. Now she would go to live with her husband and spend her hours in his family, cleaning and cooking in a home that she would step foot in today for the very first time.

The procession of vehicles took her away, and the festivities finally seemed to be coming to a close. Then, "You will need to get dressed back up and will go for lunch with some others to the groom's." It took me a while to fully understand what I was going to take part in. I had been placed on the list of a select few - called the "krushk" - who would go to the groom's wedding as the bridal party guests. We would make a grand entrance, just like the groom did at the wedding the previous night, and take part in special dances with the bride and groom. I raced to get ready, then spent another three hours that afternoon picking sparingly from another giant plate of food, and dancing. 

To say I was exhausted by the end of the weekend would be an understatement. I hadn't experienced so much culture shock since first arriving in Albania. But it all came to a close, and we arrived back at my Albanian family's house, where a few remaining family members sat down for a relaxed coffee and conversation. The wedding was finally over.

Me and Blerta

A Lesson in Love

Until that point, I had been acutely aware of my Americanness and struggle to "fit" culturally. I felt different, even disconnected and insecure, unsure of my place as the only American. Much of the time I didn't know what to say because of feeling so socially overwhelmed with so many new people and cultural expectations that I could only learn by experience. Even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't understand the thick northern dialect. But when it finally quieted down enough for me to think, I realized some things… They had given me a place at their table as one of their own. And they had sent me to their son-in-law's party as one of the honored guests.  The list was picked very carefully since there was a limited number of seats for that group. My seat easily could have been given to another blood family member, but they chose ME. 

While this family has been one of my primary relational outlets, I have struggled with the fact that I'm still different. It's impossible for me to give relationally as they do to each other, because I'm not and won't ever be fully like them… this is SO hard for me, because I have so much trouble accepting freely gestures of honor without having earned them! They've done so much for me… housing me, feeding me, welcoming me inside their home and inviting me into whatever they are doing whenever I happen to come by, doing everything possible to help me feel comfortable. They keep giving, and giving, and giving. At the wedding, they heaped honor upon me. It felt so wrong… it should have been someone else…

As I left, I greeted the oldest brother and thanked him for giving me a place in the krushk. Someone standing next to him laughed and said, "Jessica, why would you thank him? The family thanks you for being a part of the wedding!" It seemed so backwards to me: I was nobody in particular… I didn't even know how to engage with most of the family who attended the wedding… I stood out like a sore thumb and could only make silly small talk that had no significant value…

I didn't have to do anything to earn the honor they gave me. In fact, it was insulting to try to earn it. The one who desires to give delights in the giving.

The Prenga family taught me a huge lesson about God that weekend. It wasn't just the Prengas who honored me; it was God Himself showering His love on me. It felt so wrong to be given so much and to have done absolutely nothing to earn it. Yet that is the essence of salvation - a free gift of grace. Trying to earn it… trying to do more good works for Him, hoping maybe He might love us better… it insults God's freely lavished love. All He wants is that I accept His gestures of love graciously. Not feel like I'm supposed to do something in return. Just let Him love me.

God humbled me by exalting me. He just wants me to be with Him and to accept the good things He sets in front of me. I initially feel so awkward accepting such lavish, freely given love. If my concept of self doesn't merit it, it feels wrong. But that's where my concept of self must change… because God doesn't see me as I see myself. He sees me as His daughter - delighted in, and deserving of every good gift. Deserving, not because of anything I've done. Deserving, because I am His.