The Shocker

Struga, Macedonia

2009-04-22T23:15:00.000-07:00

Just say no to bathing suits

Tim

daily scenes in Albania

2009-04-22T12:08:00.000-07:00

What do you do for fun?

2009-03-12T07:20:00.001-07:00

When I actually have time to do anything fun, I often paint. These are my most recent paintings.

Winter in Hungary and Vienna

2009-03-10T11:52:00.000-07:00

Sopron, Hungary

Schloss Schonbrunn, Vienna

2008-10-22T23:34:00.000-07:00

The Evil eye.

The concept is that if you have something that someone might envy. You are in danger of having a curse of ill-will on you. Albanian's are very fearful of this and have many ways of warding off this curse. They might have something like these eye beads. They might put a stuffed animal, flag, garlic or a ram's horn up. This is supposed to lure the evil eye away because it draws it to those things instead. They are also careful about complimenting someone or appreciating somebody's things too much. You don't want to inadvertently put the evil eye on someone or be blamed for bad things happening in other people's lives.

In America I think it might correlate it to our expression, knock on wood. The feeling that somehow if we admit that we are doing well, or that we are really happy, or that we like something too much that somehow it's going to taken away from us. If it's too good to be true, it is.

A stuffed person, chicken head and garlic put up to protect new construction from the evil eye.

Why the pain?

2008-10-16T05:25:00.000-07:00

The man's life was pleasant. So too was worship. The two always go together.

God was not pleased. So He allowed the man's life to become unpleasant.

The man responded with shock. "How can this be? How could this happen in my life?"

Beneath the shock, the man was smug. But he could not see it. he thought it was trust. "this will soon pass. God is faithful, life will again be pleasant."His worship remained shallow.

God was not pleased. So He allowed more unpleasant things to happen in the man's life.

The man tried hard to handle his frustrations well, like someone who trusted God. "I will be patient," he resolved.

But he didn't notice that his efforts to be patient grew out of the conviction that a pleasant life was his due. He did not hear his own heart saying, "If I'm patient, God will make things pleasant again. That's His job."

His worship became a way to convince God to restore his pleasant life.

God was not pleased. So He pulled back His hedge of protection around the man a little farther. The man's life became miserable.

The man got angry. God seemed unmoved, indifferent, uncaring, Heaven's door slammed shut. The man knew he could not pry it open.

He could think only of better days...not better days coming, but of better days before, days that no longer were and that showed no signs of returning.

His highest dreams were returning to those days, to the pleasant life he once knew, when he felt what he had called joy.

He could not imagine a higher dream than going backward to what once was. But he knew life never moved backward. Adults never become children again. Old people never recover the energy of their most productive years.

So he lost hope. God had withdrawn His blessing, and there was no indication He would change His mind.

The man fell into depression. His worship stopped.

God was not pleased. So He released the forces of hell into the man's life.

Temptations that formerly were manageable now became irresistible. The pain of living was so great that the pleasure the temptations afforded, relief really, seemed reasonable and necessary. But after the pleasure came a new kind of pain, a kind of pain that covered his soul with a fog that not even the brightest sun could penetrate.

The man could see only his pain. He could not see God. He thought he could, but the god he saw was the one whose job it was to relieve pain. He could imagine this god, but he could not find him.

He addressed the only god he knew. He begged for help. Beneath his words of pleading he could almost hear what his heart was saying: "You owe me help. I will never believe I deserved all this to happen. This pain is not my fault. It's yours."

His worship had always taken the form of a demand, but now the demand was so obvious the man could almost recognize it.

God was not pleased. So He let the struggles continue. And God allowed new troubles to come into the man's life.

In the part of the man's heart that dreamed his greatest dreams, he had been certain he would never have to face these new troubles that were now in his life. For years he had said in his heart (without actually hearing it), "That could never happen to me. If it did, my life would be over. If that happened, I'd have no choice but to conclude that God isn't good. I would have to dismiss Go. And no one, not even God, could fault me."

But still the man could not hear his heart speak. What he could hear was a seductive voice that made the worst temptation he had ever faced... to lose hope in God... seem noble, bravely defiant, the only way left for the man to find himself.

The battle waxed hot. But a flicker of hope remained. The man held on to his faith. Even as he did, he could not hear his heart saying, "I have every right to give up on my faith. But I'm choosing the truly noble way. I still believe in You. I still believe you're there and that my highest hopes for joy...whatever hopes are left... lie with you. Does that impress you? If not, my God, what does?"

His worship was more desperate than ever. But is was still proud.

God was not pleased. So He allowed the man's trials to continue and his pain to remain unabated. God kept His distance from the man. He provided no comfort, no tangible reason to hope. It was difficult for God not to make everything better in the man's life. It was even more difficult for Him not to appear directly to the man and assure him of His presence.

But He didn't. God had a greater dream for the man than a return to a pleasant life. He wanted the man to find true joy. He longed to restore the man's hope for what mattered most. But still the man did not know what that was.

The fog around the man's soul thickened until he could feel it, like walls closing in. All that was left was mystery: there was fear certainly, even terror, but more acute was the sense of mystery, the mystery of a bad life and a good God.

Where was He? When the man became most aware of his need for God, God disappeared. It made no sense. Was God there or not? If He was, did He care? Or didn't He?

The man could not give up on God. He remembered Jacob. So he began to fight. But he fought in the dark, a darkness so deep that he could no longer see his dreams of a pleasant life.

In deep darkness, you cannot see. But you can hear. He could hear for the first time what his heart was saying.

"Bless me!" he cried. From his deepest soul, he could hear words reflecting a resolve that would not let go of God.

"Bless me! Not because I am good, but because You are good. Bless me! Not because I deserve Your blessing, but because it is Your nature to bless. You really can't help Yourself. I appeal not to who I am. You owe me nothing. I appeal only to who You are."

He still saw his pain. But now he saw God. And the cry for blessing was no longer a demand for a pleasant life. It was a cry for whatever God wanted to do, for whoever He was. The man felt something different. It was the beginning of humility. But the very fact of what it was kept him from seeing what it was.

The man had forgotten himself and discovered his desire for God. He did not find God right away, but he had hope, hope that he might experience what his soul most deeply longed for.

Then he saw it. Fresh water bubbled up from a spring in the desert of his soul, and he saw it. It was a new dream. He could see it's contours take shape. It was a dream of actually knowing God and representing Him in an unpleasant world. The dream took on a specific focus: he saw how he could know God and represent God to others in a way that was his way and not someone else's. It felt like coming home.

He realized immediately that his power to speak on behalf of God to others in the midst of their unpleasant lives depended on his speaking from the midst of his own unpleasantness. He had never before felt grateful for his troubles.

His suffering became to him a doorway into God's heart. He shared God's pain in His great project of redemption. Suffering together for a single cause made him feel closer to God.

A new thought occured to him. "I will join with whatever forces are opposed to the root of this unpleasantness. I will ally with goodness against evil. I will not wait to see more clearly; what my hand finds to do, I will do. But I will stay close to the spring. My soul is thirsty. A pleasant life is not water for my soul: whatever comes from God... whoever God is... this is the only true water. And it is enough."

The man worshiped God, and God was pleased. So God kept the water bubbling up out of the spring in the man's soul. When the man didn't drink every morning from the spring or return every evening to drink again, his thirst became intolerable.

Some things in his life got better. Some things stayed the same. Some things got worse

But the man was dreaming a new dreams, greater dreams than a pleasant life. And he found the courage to pursue them. He was now a man with hope, and his hope brought joy

God was very pleased, and so was the man.

Shattered Dreams, by Larry Crabb

summer in Albania

2008-08-22T11:31:00.000-07:00

There's a little green frog swimming in the water...

There's a little green frog doing what he otta...

2008-08-15T22:59:00.000-07:00

Pogradec, Albania

Blue Mosque, Istanbul
The things people create looking for God.

back in the Hagia Sophia

2008-08-07T23:34:00.000-07:00

Hagia Sophia

Basilica Cisterns, Medusa's head

Storks Nest Cafe

This one speaks for itself.....ha ha ha

Apparently aliens have been known to fall off here.

scenes of Turkey

2008-08-04T02:45:00.000-07:00

Entering Turkey after about 15 hours of driving. (Okay so about 12 of that was the previous day)

Here I am due to popular request. I really don't like posting pictures of myself. It takes all the mystery out and I become ordinary. Ah well, I guess I just have to bow to the reality that I really am just ordinary. At least the scenery isn't. We are at Ephesus, where crowds in biblical times shouted for 2 hours that "Artemus is great.....(she gives us chocolate cake," oops! I guess that's from something else).

Here we are amoung the stones. Amazing to know that this has been a city for at least 2,500 years.

Beautiful !

The tomb of Celcius

Ancient Troy and not so ancient horse.

some kid shots

2008-06-19T23:17:00.000-07:00

Rachael and Tamlyn participating in the end of the year school play

Matthew at his 8th grade graduation

Mr. mad scientist

Dad and girls

Shkodra

2008-04-13T23:31:00.000-07:00

Shkodra

2008-04-13T23:22:00.000-07:00

Another One Rides the Bus

2008-02-13T22:21:00.000-08:00

Driving in Tirana might be fun for some. If you like suprises, i.e. the one-way street that was going one direction yesterday may very well be going the opposite direction today. The brand new asfalted road that was laid down a week ago may today have gaping holes where they've torn it right out again. If you don't mind the roads becoming parking lots at every intersection, or trying to drive on narrow one lane roads that against the laws of physics suddenly become three lane roads, then Tirana awaits your driving pleasure. I'm not even going to go on about the impossiblity of finding a parking place in a city where cars were never thought of in it's planning.

All this to say, I would rather take the public transportation

Of course the public transportation has it's own aaah....shall we say eccentricities. Like buses which have gaping holes in the floors. It is interesting to watch the road and wheels from that perspective.

Then there are the teaming masses of people also riding the bus. Being squashed between innumerable people who don't smell like this...

It's not so bad in winter. Afterall, being so crammed so close together can make the bus ride warmer. Not a bad thing in winter. However. In the summer it is an all together different experience. If you have ever smelled the smell of hot wet wool, garlic and sweat, then perhaps you might be close to knowing what a summer bus ride in Tirana is like.

Still for all it's difficulties, I still say hurray or public transportation.

Images of Albania through my eyes

2008-02-05T22:37:00.000-08:00

2008-01-27T22:53:00.000-08:00

Bright colors drifting down in wonderful mosaics

Father and daughter

The spice of life

2008-01-22T22:11:00.000-08:00

Miracles are a retelling in small letters of the very same story which is written across the whole world in letters too large for some of us to see. C. S. Lewis

We all want progress, but if you're on the wrong road, progress means doing an about-turn and walking back to the right road; in that case, the man who turns back soonest is the most progressive. C. S. Lewis

This is one of the miracles of love: It gives a power of seeing through its own enchantments and yet not being disenchanted. C. S. Lewis

Africa

2008-01-07T23:03:00.000-08:00

You know that different places actually have their own unique fragrance. I'm not going to describe Albania's.... Tunisia actually has a perfumed air. I guess it must be the fig trees or something. But it actually has a lovely spicy scent.

El Gem, the third largest amphitheater in the world. Hard to imagine all the Christians and others eaten by lions on this very spot.

The market place is a riot of color (and obnoxious salesmen who won't take no for an answer).

Dave and Rachael making friends with the camel

Looks sweet doesn't it? Little would you know how much it really wants to spit at you.

2007-11-21T22:51:00.000-08:00

Hippo

Birdies

Two EWEs to all the birthday people. Especially Timmy, Kathy, Dave and Terry!

Rain

2007-11-19T23:04:00.000-08:00

The rain rain rain came down down down and washed away poor kidlets. It has been a week of rain and about five of the shacks of people we know were flooded. One woman told us she woke in the night to find her children crying while floating on their mattress towards door. We decided that we needed to do something, though our resources were limited. Dave got together with a friend and set out to find sand bags. Can you believe it, there are no sand bags in Albania! Dave tried the Red Cross, European Union help organizations and every other help organization that we could think of. No luck on any of them. Finally, they came up with the idea of using flour sacks.

You should have seen him covered in flour from the 200 used sacks he had gathered. Unfortunately there was no camera handy. A local church heard a rumor of what was going on and offered to finance the bags and materials and helped with the bagging.

So after two days of foot work, getting everything together, and a full day of hard labor in calf depth sticky mud...

...a sandbag....oops, flour bag wall was created around five homes. Sadly it's not really enough and their yards and the inside of their shacks are still covered in mud, but perhaps they will be able to sleep without the fear that the river will carry away their children.

For the moment there are smiles even in the midst of hardship.

coffee

2007-11-11T23:07:00.000-08:00

Those lovely dark beans, to die for.

The ritual of coffee drinking here in Albania is an old one. 500 years of Ottoman rule has left it's mark. Here, drinking nuclear powered cups of pure caffeine is more than just drinking coffee, it means relationship, friendship, connection.

First there are the beans, but beans must be ground. Not the rough grind that we can get in the States, but like fine talcum powder. Through the centuries the muliri, or coffee grinder, has been used for this purpose. Generations of kids grinding away as their mothers ponder the questions of the universe and what they are going to make for lunch.
After the grinding, the process of the brewing can begin. You will need a xhezve, a small cooking "pot". They come in a variety of sizes and materials from the beaten copper one shown here, to practical everyday kind.

Fill the xhezve with enough water for however many demitasse cups you are planning to make. Add a coffee spoon of sugar for each cup. Boil the water and the sugar and remove from the heat. Add and stir one heaping coffee spoon full of the coffee powder for each cup. In some countries they add cardamon and orange blossom water. Here in Albania we just drink the pure stuff.

Put the xhezve back on the heat and let it begin to froth up. This is the delicate part. If you don't leave it long enough you won't get the foam. If you leave it too long you won't get the foam. A coffee without the foam, or cream as they call it here, just isn't coffee. So you leave the coffee on the heat just long enough for the foam to form, but take it off before it boils.

Gently pour out the coffee, sharing it out in turns if there is more than one cup.

I'll never forget my first experience of drinking Turkish coffee. The taste was exquisite, but that last sip was a loo loo. What nobody had informed me of was that the last fourth of the cup was filled with coffee grounds. That was an eye-opener.

Everything for the Albanian people revolves around relationship. Their lives depends on it. Everything here is boiled down to who you know. The ritual of coffee is one of the more important rituals cementing the society together.

2007-10-22T09:24:00.000-07:00

My son, Timmy, was lamenting the fact that he didn't have a bicycle the other day. When I reminded him of the fact that if he had one all of the neighborhood kids would all be asking to ride it or trying to take it from him, he got this resigned look in his eye and said, "I guess I really don't want one after all." It's hard to have things in an area where other people don't.

This made me think of Nene Teresa, ethnically Albanian though born in Macedonia. She, like all of those in her order, took a vow of poverty. While very noble, I think it very practical as well. If you are inspired to help the poor, and believe that the best way to help is to live in their community, it is truly uncomfortable to enjoy your "riches". I say riches loosely, as luxury is in many cases in the eye of the beholder. What seems like necessity to one may be a luxury for another.

Not only would it be in some ways more comfortable to take up a vow of poverty, but then when everyone asks you for money you can say in perfect sincerity, "I don't have it to give you but I can help you rebuild your house with my time and effort".

All I can say is that it's not easy being a have living among have nots. It's a tension that is with you every day and with everyone that you interact with, like standing on your toes all day.

2007-10-11T22:54:00.000-07:00

The grape stomping gang

2007-10-11T22:46:00.000-07:00

Dave at his best

2007-10-08T02:10:00.000-07:00

These are images from one of my favorite European cites. Can you guess where? Budapest!Every time I have visited I have come away refreshed. I love the colors. I know there are still some remnants of the communist era, like big grey apartment buildings, but just look at the tiles on this roof. It makes me happy just looking at them. But it's not only the place. I have a friend, Virag, she and her husband Csaba are such an example and inspiration to me. They came to Albania with their kids, facing down the disapproval of both of their families, to help Albanian youth. They came even with great difficulties, health, education for their kids and much more. For several years we met weekly encouraging one another and sharing our woes. She had to return to Budapest due to health and other reasons and I miss her greatly.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder

2007-10-06T00:56:00.000-07:00

It can be easy to be negative and see only the ugliness, both the physical and spiritual that are so prevalent here. It's easy to be so overwhelmed with the ugly that you can't see anything else. How very sad that is when that happens.

Beauty, diversity, squalor, all are part of my life here. It just depends where your eye lands and how you interpret things. It takes God's grace every day to remind me to see the beauty in the people and in all it's unexpected forms.

2007-10-04T11:37:00.000-07:00

Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it. ~C. S. Lewis

Experience: that most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God do you learn.

~C.S Lewis

2007-10-03T23:04:00.000-07:00

Here they are, all my lovely family.

2007-10-03T12:20:00.000-07:00

This is Dave making his wine. He's still outside at the is very moment (10pm) working on the white wine. He did allow the rest of us to help a little.

2007-10-03T06:24:00.000-07:00

Though at times it can get frustrating having to shop almost everyday for things here, I still enjoy going though the open market. It can be beautiful and full of those bright colors I so enjoy.

2007-10-03T00:48:00.000-07:00

My sense of what's beautiful has changed over years. I guess time spent being bombarded by scenes like this one has given me an appreciation for bright and in your face colors. It makes me happy to see the cheerful kaleidoscope of color.

2007-10-02T22:53:00.000-07:00

Arggggggggg! The stupid Internet is throwing a fit today. I can't stay on for more then two minutes. Grrrrr! Ah well, such is life. Maybe tomorrow I can get some pictures up or maybe even look at the comments. It's all a great mystery.

2007-10-02T00:42:00.000-07:00

How does one truly help the poor. You want to give financial help or physical help of some kind. In many instances though, that kind of help is no help at all. Tomorrow they are still in the same difficulties. Then there is the fact that there is limited resources that one couple can give. Who do you give it to? The ones you don't give it to are bitter and jealous, the ones you do give to are never satisfied. You know that it won't get better for them unless something changes inside them. Somehow their motivations or outlook on life needs to change . It's true that there are outside things that affect their ability to prosper, ethnicity, education, work opportunities or lack there of. Yet, that's not really the problem. It's a problem of spirit. Lack of hope and inability to love one another. Poverty of spirit is something that the rich and the poor have in common.

2007-10-01T12:14:00.000-07:00

This is our electrical situation, need I say more?

2007-10-01T11:57:00.000-07:00

She has seen two world wars. She has stories about how nice the Italian solders were to her and how jealous her husband was. She tells of the food they gave her and the flowered tent. Her life has not been an easy one and much if not all of it has been spent traveling and begging. I have been visiting nene (or Grandma) for the last five years or so. Last week she fell and broke her hip. It makes me so sad. There is little hope for her. She is too old and poor for the doctors here to do anything for her. Her family keeps her at home in her little shack. She lays in pain, unable to move much. It's not a pleasant way to go. I'm sure her family would just like to see it over with. She's old after all. She's so afraid of death. There is so little we can do. I have brought her pain medication, but it's only a drop in the bucket of her need.

2007-10-01T11:26:00.000-07:00

Wine Making

2007-09-30T23:18:00.000-07:00

I never knew that wine making could be so basic. I found that out about yogurt making too. In the west we make it so complicated. We have to buy all sorts of specialized gadgets to make it work when really you don't need much. For yogurt all you need is warm milk, a big jar and and a spoon of active yogurt. It's really amazing how good it is too. Wine making is a little more work intensive and I imagine it's a lot like guitar playing. Not to hard to learn the basics, but much more difficult to do it well. Our wine is almost done. I have not idea if it's drinkable or not. Dave is so proud of it. I want to put pictures of us stomping on the grapes, but for some reason I can't upload very well. Connection is probably too slow.