Backlog - Thursday, June 09, 2011

Though I arose a couple times in the night again, I put off getting up until 5:45. I got up and read the Bible and prayed and worshiped until 8:00am. At that time I went over to Hari and Penka’s apartment (I’m staying across the hall in their art studio, not the gallery which I mention later) and ate a great breakfast with them. Penka melted some cheese over bread and we had some Balkan spiced salt with it. It reminded me of Mancino’s pizza’s garlic-cheese bread, but better. And, of course, I had coffee. One theme you’ll notice throughout the day is that I’m drinking coffee a lot. I don’t drink coffee back in the States. I drank it in Brazil at every chance, and I drank it last time I came to the Balkans, but I don’t drink it at home. Hari told me later in the day that one good word he’s heard from another missionary about working among Turkish Muslims is that if you want to be effective, you have to learn to stomach a lot of coffee, because without that, you won’t be able to be in an effective relationship (most of which develop over coffee). After breakfast I wrote up yesterday’s journal entry and then we left for the day. We headed to their art gallery to pick up supplies and then dropped by the apartment again to bring their camera along. And, before heading to the Turkish village, we went to their church to grab some materials for the evening service. Finally, we arrived at the school in the village, which is larger than most Turkish villages in Bulgaria (Hari told me so). Penka was teaching an art class to students from ages 9 to 14 (roughly). They have had this inroad into the community for about 3 years, which is great considering how closed most all of these villages are to outsiders (non Turkish). The woman who has worked with the school to establish this workshop is a kind of altruistic, entrepreneurial go-getter to help better her people. She even won a grant for the school that gave them an internet computer center with five state of the art machines, the only such center among all the Turks in the country (maybe the Balkans). Hari and I spoke with the woman and another school worker for a while both in the classroom and outside of it. We would come and go from the classroom a lot. The computer center is attached to their library and to the governor’s office. In the librarian’s office, this lady served me Turkish coffee and we talked about my background, during which I spoke about my own involvement with youth through service in Big Brothers Big Sisters and mentoring grade schoolers and now helping with middle schoolers in my city. I shared about the message of God which we share that is powerful to bring hope and joy and life into the dark lives of youth who suffer broken homes and absent (and absent-minded) parents along with the many ills of youth. She asked me how kids in America who have everything can suffer, and I essentially responded that superficial comforts cannot bandage soul-deep injuries. And anyway, not all kids have such material comforts (nor mountain-range scenery or neighbor’s fresh organic gardens no matter how small). It was a good discussion, and perhaps partly because of it, she invited us to her home. This was the first time Hari had been invited to someone’s home in this village. She told us about her garden and Hari decided he wanted to paint a picture of a flower there. We spoke with her on the way and found out that a young teacher who had come into the classroom at the beginning of the day, and was the English teacher, was her daughter. You will see from my photos how beautiful her flowers are. After a little while she left to go back to the school. We stayed for Hari to paint with her husband and son. Hari had a dream the other day about bicycles riding into this village. When we went to her home, Hari was told by the husband that his son-in-law had just given him this new bicycle outside of their fence. Hari thinks this is an indication that this might be the home of peace for the village (the home base for the Gospel’s proclamation and the person who is bold to open it in the face of potential persecution from the other Turks, especially the passionate Muslims of the community). I spent time talking with the father…well, more like trying to understand him because he speaks Bulgarian with a Turkish accent, but it wouldn’t matter a lot either way because I understand neither language. I did understand his sign language to come follow him around the house and see different plants and learn about his heart surgery and the water pump in his garden. They served me some I-ran, which is a yogurt drink with water. I had no idea, though, because no one told me what it was. I just prayed and gulped. It was a bit sour, but my stomach hasn’t rejected it yet. Hari told me later that I have to learn to enjoy that drink too. Hmmmm. Anyway, Hari spoke to the boy about spiritual things and asked about his religious background and if he was a muslim, but the boy said he didn’t believe that stuff. We went inside when fierce winds kicked up and rain came down. The mother came back after a bit. Hari helped me to learn some Bulgarian phrases which I’ve been working to implement all day. During that time I was served coffee again. During the rain, hail came down the size of quarter gumballs. Given that I had said we had had some large hail in my city the previous week, she was wondering if I brought it, seriously. She then, as the first born in her family, having the power to cast and curse, threw salt at the hail 3 times. Hari shared a testimony about how God listens to his prayers and she said that she was saying in God’s name to get rid of the hail. Even when we saw the rains coming the father told me that it was God’s voice saying “I see you.” I later told Hari that Genesis 16:13 was Hagar calling God the One who sees. But, the context and connotations are different. Perhaps opposite. Again, we went back to the school and then over to a shop across the street and had some lunch (chopska salad and some meatballs and bread). It was tasty and perfectly portioned. Then back to the school we went. The class was still not finished and so we went to the van and Hari took a nap while I read over my phrases. Then, we headed over to the class again. Finally, they were finished and so we took some final pictures of the kids and eventually left the school. We headed back to the apartment after picking up some fruit and vegetables at a stand near the apartment and had some coffee and cherries at the house. I then worked on writing some of these activities down while Hari prepared for the evening service. When he was ready we headed back to the church for a time of praise and prayer. We sang and prayed and testified. It was encouraging and the Spirit was powerfully working among us – stirring up our faith and good words were shared from the scripture to spur one another on. After the service we dropped a couple of members off at their neighborhoods and headed back to the apartment for the night. I came back and worked on this Word document (from written notes) and then Hari called me to come over for dinner. Dinner was divine as usual. Penka made a special yogurt garlic sauce which is like a Gyro cucumber sauce but with more garlic and a sweeter taste. We also had ham and bread and fried zucchini and cheese. Hari and I chatted after dinner and then we took time to pray for the coming day and the visit to the new village. Please join us in prayer (I hope this arrives soon enough). I’m out to bed now. God bless.