Christmases Remembered

We're less than an hour away from Christmas day here in Knoxville, TN.  And at the speed I write, it will no doubt be Christmas by the time I finish.  (I was right.  It is now 2AM on Christmas morning.) It's been more than a year since we returned from Kosovo.  With the Christmas season in full swing, I find myself thinking about last year's Christmas, and still, Christmas in Kosovo two years ago.


When we moved in with Lindsey's parents in June 2011, we still had our bedroom set and rickety table and chairs from our first home.  Living room furniture, two antique style sideboard pieces for storage, a multi colored rug, and nursery furniture were all purchased from CraigsList.  Raleigh's crib came from one my mom's coworkers.  Custom wall shelving was created for dishes fashioned from old boards found atop the rafters in the garage, a borrowed fridge from my parents that may have been as old as me,  and other odds and ends from our first home had transformed two empty bedrooms and a large living area into a two bedroom apartment by Christmas.  The only new things I can remember buying were blinds, paint, a new door knob, outlet covers, and two fancy knobs that went on the pocket doors to the laundry area.  I really liked those knobs.  The walls of the living and kitchen area were completely painted with the exception of the bottom two inches which remained wood panel brown as I  intended replacing the brown plastic moulding I tore off.  I never did.  Our bedroom wasn't completed either.  Some sections of wall had primer and paint, some had only primer, and some areas had only been wiped down with a damp rag.  But hey, at least I had replaced all the outlet covers.  Raleigh's room was the only space that was fully completed, and our humble, three foot, artificial, Christmas tree sat just inside his door on the left.  In between setting up home for the third time in as many years and Christmas, Raleigh was born.  The iPhoto application on our computer has one photo in it from that Christmas.  It's a photo of me and my sister in front of my parent's Christmas tree.  Where the other photos are, if any, I have no clue.  The whole holiday was a blur of well...baby.  Somewhere there are photos of our visit to my grandparents that Christmas day.  They are the only solid proof that we made the trip as my recollection of the whole day is understandably very vague.

Christmas in Kosovo was easily the most unique holiday of my life to date.  The memories flash in my mind like the one spastic string of lights on every tree.  Some memories are captured forever in pictures which I've shared below.  Others I have the pleasure of unwrapping in my mind as long as I can remember them.  I'm going to write as many of them down as I can remember, and in no particular order...

There was evidence all over the town that Christmas was upon us.  There were lights on the more prominent businesses like banks and the local Ipko store.  ETC, our Walmart, had a huge wall of various decorations, pre-wrapped gifts, and artificial trees.  The even had shopping bags with Santa's face on them.  Never mind all the decorations were promoting New Years instead of Christmas.  Oh and the grocery bags with Santa's face on them?  The phrase, "Happy New Year" was written under his snowy white beard.  No matter.  In my mind, ProCredit Bank, Ipko, ETC, and all the others were decorated for Christmas...they just didn't know it.

You could even visit Santa just like kids do here in the states.  The set up in the center of town was the best.  Our Santa couldn't have weighed more than 150 pounds.  He probably wasn't much older than me, and he smelled of cigarettes and Turkish coffee.  Mrs Claus sported a pair of iridescent fairy wings.  Llamas had replaced the traditional reindeer and a Model T looking car was this Santa's vehicle of choice.  The only explanation for the clowns was that the elves must have been on strike.  I guess that explains the skinny Santa.  Everyone knows that clowns can't make toys.  The stress must have driven Santa to smoking and killed his appetite.

Perhaps my fondest memory was our little tree.  It was an artificial one shoved in a box in the top of the closet in our spare room.  It was maybe four feet tall.  There was no tree stand, but as you can see we made due.  There was no tree skirt either.  But we did have a rather shiny comforter that looked like a mound of snow glistening in the sunlight.  Most of the ornaments and all of the presents that were placed beneath had been lovingly wrapped, packed and shipped from the other side of the world.

There was one thing still missing...for me at least.  It couldn't be shipped because it was perishable.  I had accepted the fact that I would have to wait until we returned to America to enjoy it.  But one day Lindsey walked in one afternoon carrying IT.  IT being eggnog.  It was given to her by one of our colleagues, Pam.  I don't remember how she came across it.  I remember something about getting it through some contacts at the American army base.  It was in tall steel cans and I remember they were dented.  Apparently there's some sort of risk in eating/drinking food from dented cans.  I didn't care.  I had eggnog. Christmas was officially back on.  I drank two cans.

I received my first, and last pair of ski pants that year.  I say last because I attempted skiing not long thereafter and barely escaped with my life and my dignity.

I fought back tears when Kosovars wished me a Merry Christmas.  One instance I remember vividly was after a stop at the Banacol market.  Every American in our town knows this market.  Going there was as exciting as waking up Christmas morning as a child.  You never know what kind of special food items they'll have in stock.  They always had the rarest, most special items.  Tortilla chips, soy milk, cheddar cheese, oatmeal, American cereals, tahini for making homemade hummus.  One of the men working there said it with a big grin on his face as he handed me my change.  Thinking about it more now, it was the most special "Merry Christmas" I've heard in recent memory. I remember how wonderful I felt for just a moment.  It was as though he knew how I felt, and the way in which he said it touched my heart in just that spot.  I think all I managed was a confused and emotional, "Thank you"...and in English no less.

That brings us to Christmas 2012.  The world was supposed to end on the 21st according to the Mayans.  Wouldn't that have just been hilarious?  All the Black Friday mayhem, pretentious Christmas parties, endless hours of recital rehearsals could have all been for nothing.  My little family of three will spend it here in Knoxville.  Immediate family was kind enough to come our way in the weeks leading up to today bringing all the Christmas cheer they could fit in their respective Hondas.  Traditions will be written anew.  No more soda can tree stands and Santa wishing you a Happy New Year.  The elves and Santa must have reached an agreement.  The little guys in green are back and Santa's as fat as I remember.  And he doesn't smell like cigarette smoke, but he does smell like he's made a meal one too many times out of the Pepperidge Farm samples.

Three Christmases, three different locales.  Kosovo, North Carolina, Tennessee.  How deep our Tennessee traditions will become remains to be seen.  We're starting a rather unique one tomorrow.  It's in honor of one of our favorite Christmas movies, A Christmas Story.  No, we didn't buy Raleigh a Red  Ryder BB gun.  We're going out to eat...  We've been here a few times before.  The sweet Oriental lady that has taken care of us each time plays with Raleigh like he's her own.  Raleigh loves to stare at the goldfish in the pond near the entrance.  The fish come up to you and beg for food like a dog would.  It's hilarious.  We won't have freshly beheaded duck, but we will have one another, and the one constant from our last three Christmases in two countries and two states...Jesus Christ.  Oh and eggnog...can't forget eggnog.

Merry Christmas, everyone.  Especially to you and your family, Suad Murati.  We love and miss you all very very much.

Oh, and below are the photos I mentioned I would share.

All of this feels rather strange to be honest...

No, not the fact that I'm sitting in a room surrounded by a plethora of baby toys, one of which is a stuffed cow with a pacifier hanging on one of its horns.  And it's also not due to my sitting on an ottoman rather than at my desk because I need to be close to an outlet for my laptop charger.  Just keep reading...

Imagine your heart as a home with many rooms.  There's a room with the door closed.  It's been closed for a while.  You "walk" by it all the time.  You know what lies on the other side of the door.  You think about what's in that room.  At times you talk about it, but that's all.  Then one day you find yourself standing in front of that closed door.

That's where I am now.  I don't really know what will be accomplished by this, but the encouragement of my wife is confirmation enough to do what I've felt like doing for some time.  In my mind I'm standing in the open doorway to that room with my hand on the light switch.  And as I type this all I can think about is this scene from Field of Dreams.

Terence Mann enters the corn

Much has happened since our return from Kosovo last June.  Raleigh was born last November, we made the decision to remain in the U.S. and we're in the midst of a new season of life after moving to Knoxville, TN in March.  Writing is something that I enjoy immensely, and helps me process my thoughts, emotions, etc...

The light switch is flipped on.  Stick around won't you?  I have much to share...

Church for two...

A week after Lindsey and I arrived in Kosova last February, we witnessed the baptism of a young man who had given his life to Jesus the previous summer.  He and I share the same birthday, but I'm ten years older.  From that day forward, the persecution he faced from his family and those throughout his village became even more intense.

Every day this young man faced threats, anger, verbal and physical abuse from practically everyone he encountered.  In spite of all this he continued to attend church.  Eventually he was kicked out of his home, and came to live with Lindsey and I for a few days since none of his family knew where we lived.  What ensued later was a struggle involving a very angry mother, police, etc... that resulted in his return home.  Since then he rarely came to church, and anytime he was able to obtain a Bible his mother would use it to start fires to warm the family home.  Every now and then he would appear without notice at our homes or church, almost like a phantom.  And as quickly as he arrived, he would leave.  Usually his appearance was in part because he was supposed to be going to the market or visiting family and he would make a short side trip to visit us.

More recently, I have begun traveling about an hour each way every Tuesday to meet with this young man for an hour before his school began.  He has no phone in order to confirm our meetings ahead of time.  I show up and hope that he is able to do the same.  During one recent trip out to see him, my phone rang.  Answering it, the voice on the other end was that familiar voice of my little brother.  "I'm in the bus behind you.  Pull over."  As we rode the rest of the way together, he explained he had used the bus driver's phone to call me.  That day we had an extra 30 minutes together.  We both needed it.  The time I spend with him is such a blessing and encouragement to me.  I consider it such an incredible privilege, honor, and responsibility to be a part of this young man's life.  We meet at a certain place, and sit at the same table each time.  I guess you could call it a church for two.

I remind him every time we meet of the countless numbers of people that are constantly praying for him. I can tell that he receives it, believes it, and appears to be encouraged by it.  But sometimes I wonder if he knows it throughout the week...how much my words alone about others' prayers encourage him.  And then another missionary had a great idea.

Today, we passed a card around and wrote short messages and Bible verses to encourage our little brother when I see him next Tuesday.  It's at this point in my post that I would like to encourage you to become involved.  I would like to invite you personally, as a church, as a small group to take some time to pick up a card and fill it with encouraging words, scriptures, and prayers for our brother in the Lord.  He understands English fairly well, and they can be translated for him if need be.  Once ready to be mailed, please address them this way:

Jason D Cole
FP 70
Peja, Kosova 30,000
VIA ALBANIA

Mail takes about 2-3 weeks to arrive.  Many thanks in advance to all of you for participating in this, and many thanks to all of you who remember this young man in your prayers.  You can address your notes to, "K-Mac"

Bibla?

Don't think it's a mistake.  I did intend to entitle this entry, "Bibla?"  It's the Albanian translation of, "Bible".  Every Thursday for the last number of months, weather permitting, we've placed a small dusty white table with one leg shorter than the other three on the sidewalk out front of our church.  After wiping off the dust and soot that settles on it each week from the constant burning of the wood stove, we cover it with a  funny looking white table cloth with purple flowers.  Then comes what sanctifies this little, busted up, imperfect, not all that worth looking at table.  Bibles, New Testaments, copies of Psalms and Proverbs, children's books, calendars with scriptures, and various other books that explain the Christian faith.

Our most recent Thursday morning included an encounter like I've never had before.  Two men approached our table.  We exchanged customary greetings as they stood a short distance from the table.  They came closer for a better look at the titles on some of the books, then they each began picking them up...one at a time...flipping through them, exchanging them with one another, putting them back down.  One small stack of books caught the eye of one of them.  It was a stack of Bibles...uhh...Biblas.  They come wrapped in plastic to protect them from the elements.  This young man reached out and said, "Bibla?" as he picked it up.  "Po (Yes), Bibla.", I responded.  He turned it over in his hands.  Seeing nothing written on the back he turned it back over.  I watched him run his fingers along the top, side, then bottom as if looking for an opening in the plastic.  "Bibla?", he said again.  His confused face and body language said more than his words, his fingers visibly pressed against the plastic in an effort to break the seal.  Then it hit me...I didn't want to believe what I was thinking...so I said yet again, "Po,  Bibla....you know?"  He shook his head saying, "Jo (No)."

This man had not only never seen a Bible, he had absolutely no idea what one was.  I stood there speechless.  It was like unknowingly coming face to face with an albino deer or something, and then all the sudden realizing it.  He had no idea what a Bible was, so he couldn't have known anything that was in it.  And if he didn't know anything in it...I had no idea what to do next.  I did the only thing I knew to do.

I asked for the Bibla, unwrapped it, and handed it back to him.  There must be this instinct in humans that causes them to do this, but he placed his thumb roughly in the middle and slid it open.  He curiously turned a page, then a few more, then a large number of pages.  He was completely oblivious to everyone and everything around him.  He looked up at me, and asked how much it cost.  This question makes me chuckle every time, because there's a sign taped to the front of the table that says in Albanian, "Everything Is Free.".  I explained there was no cost.  He closed the Bibla, staring at it gripping it tightly with both hands.  I can't even imagine what could have been going on in his mind, let alone in his spirit.  He looked up at me, thanked me, wished me a good day, I wished him the same, and he walked away with the Bibla tucked under his arm.

A seed planted.  The first seed planted.  Pray for rain.

Home is where the heart is...

I know that most of our followers are on Facebook, and have been able to enjoy the many photos we've taken of Kosova since our arrival in February.  For those of you who aren't, here are some hand-picked photos for you to enjoy...

Something From the Mind, Heart...Me.

Random thoughts below...no particular order...no agenda...just sharing what's been bottled up for way too long.

So, it's been quite a while since you've seen a post that was composed of something other than a quoted news article and appropriate link.  And since I plugged the website in our last newsletter it would seem rather disenchanting if the first thing you saw was an article about a very old and very "lost" man being installed as the leader of a very mixed up and self serving religion.  Trust me, the news headlines of Muslims vs Christians in this country are anything but the truth.  For one, they aren't Muslims, and they aren't Christians.

Seriously, everyone we talk to..."So, what do you believe?"  "I'm Muslim."  "Oh, really?  Do you go to the mosque, read the Quran, observe Ramadan?"  "No."  "Why not?"  "I just believe in Islam, because my parents do."

You have no idea how frustrating conversations like this can be.  Frustrating at times, but as they turn and walk away from you, you can't help but smile a little in your spirit...maybe it shows on your face.  You say to your soul, "Don't despair.  One day he, one day she will realize it's not about what mommy and daddy "believes".  It's about what he/she will do when confronted with the truth of their need for a Savior and the fact that there is only one.  Some people are beginning to come to that realization as teenagers, some as middle aged people, and some who don't look like they're going to last too many more winters.  We're seeing a turning of the tide.  Some days it doesn't seem that way, others get your heart racing, but truly, the people are hungry for something, and they've had a steady diet of lies, corruption, everything that doesn't work, everything that leaves them more horribly empty than before, everything that's hopeless, everything that ends.  They're desperate, you can see it, you can sense it.  They still have their pride though, and oh what a crash it will be when that wall finally shatters.  Broken hearts, the perfect medium for our Savior Potter.

It's a funny thing...well...not funny I guess, but a beyond interesting thing when you think about this.  Imagine yourself standing in a vast expanse.  It's pitch black.  You can't see your hand in front of your face.  You think you're standing still, but maybe you're moving because you're bumping into things.  You can't tell anyway because it's so stinkin' dark.  You remember you're carrying a flashlight.  You pull it out, feel for the button, CLICK.  All you see at first are shadows, your eyes quickly look up following the beam of your light, you freeze, CLICK.  You scream to yourself, I'm surrounded by people! Lots and lots of people!  CLICK.  People's eyes begin to turn in your direction.  They begin to walk in your direction.  Light....their souls have never beheld it.  And you're THE bearer of it.  Slowly, more notice....some keep walking, some begin to come closer still.  They've never seen it before, they're curious.  Some curse it, some try to touch it, others simply stand in it, crowds form, crowds disappear.  Spiritually, this is what happens when we go out on the streets of Decan and allow the Light in us, the Light of the world to well...shine on the world.

An old man speaks through the help of a Kosovar believer, "Why are you here?  Why would you leave America to come here?  We all want to go where you came from, and you come here.  It makes no sense.  Why?"  Dude, I'm monitoring a book table...where did that question come from?  I thought you people didn't care about anything...especially the older generation.  Such are the rapid thoughts in my mind as my knee jerk evangelistic response of evangelism kicks in.  You give the obvious answer...the one you know how to give.  It's sweet, it's true, but as he walks away you know it wasn't what you should've said.  You know immediately every word that was meant to come from your lips.  You want to grab the biggest thing near you and tear it from frustration and angst, but the biggest thing is a Bible...not a good idea....someone might want that.  You pray he comes back a third time.  He's already come twice now.  This time was the first time he's spoken to you.  It's time to go home.  It's time to stack the books up, take down the table, put everything back in the church, lock up, and go home.  You look around...watching intently to see if anyone else is going to stop.  You don't want to be the first person in the group to place one stack of books on another.  One by one...it's like you're extinguishing one candle, then another...rather...carrying one candle after another back into the church.  You celebrate the sowing of seed in many hearts that day, you're still perplexed at the man who brought all the books he took back, placing them respectfully back in their appropriate stacks, smiling and walking away, you're briefly haunted by potential missed opportunities.  Will you have another chance at them?  Will you see them again?  Literally, it seems like as you drive away the light goes with you, the masses return to their aimless wandering in the darkness, their eyes fix on you as you're heading down the road.  They always stare...at everyone...but you can't help but think they're looking deeper.  You aren't one of them, you're...AMERICAN.  "We stare at you because seeing you gives us hope, hope to live, hope to continue on."  says one Kosovar.

It's 1am.  I'm tired....to be continued...
  

New Serb patriarch calls for peace in Kosovo ceremony

The leader of Serbia's Orthodox Church on Sunday used the ceremony of his formal enthronement at the Church's seat in Kosovo to call for peace and appeal to Serbs and Albanians to live in unity.
"Here, there is ample living space and place for the cohabitation of Serbs, Albanians and other peoples. These two peoples have lived together for centuries. Why can they not do the same today?" Patriarch Irinej said during the ceremony in the 13th-century monastery in Pec (Peja).

Full Article at AFP

Man, this happened right down the road from my house and I missed it laid up in bed from a fever...

Kosovo president resigns

Fatmir Sejdiu, Kosovo’s president, resigned on Monday after a court ruling that he had breached the constitution by holding the office without giving up leadership of his political party.

His forced departure has badly shaken the ruling coalition and could cause the government to fall or look to smaller parties for support. It also raises doubts about Kosovo’s readiness for European Union-led talks with Serbia starting next month.

And this guy was once a law professor? Are you kidding me?

Get the full article at FinancialTimes.com

Radical Islam on rise in Balkans, raising fears of security threat to Europe

SKOPJE, MACEDONIA –  SKOPJE, Macedonia (AP) — An online music video praising Osama bin Laden has driven home a troubling new reality: A radical brand of Islam embraced by al-Qaida and the Taliban is gaining a foothold in the Balkans.

"Oh Osama, annihilate the American army. Oh Osama, raise the Muslims' honor," a group of Macedonian men sing in Albanian, in video posted on YouTube last year and picked up by Macedonian media this August. "In September 2001 you conquered a power. We all pray for you."

Full article via FOXNews

Summer 2010 - Part 1

Greetings to all of you! The last two months have been non-stop action. A few days of relative calm has given us time to reflect on what's been done here in Kosova, and we're glad to share it with you as well. It's a blessing to know you all are remembering us in your prayers and are following along with us on this amazing journey.

Children's Carnival Replay

Our last newsletter was a brief recap of a wonderful outreach that touched the lives of over 250 children in the town of Decan. We were blessed to have the help of four groups of people. First was a team of six Chi Alpha students from Arizona State. Second was our group of three interns from different Assemblies of God schools. The interns were here for a total of eight weeks as part of a program created by Assemblies of God World Missions to provide AG college students with the opportunity to experience the many facets of missions in a foreign country. The third group was team from of missionaries and youth from nearby Macedonia. The fourth and final group were the believers here in Decan and Peja. Without the help of these servants, there is no way our children's carnival would have been such a success. Each night saw more and more children coming. Some used the transportation that we provided. Others, wanting to arrive early, walked for more than an hour. At the end, we faced no opposition, and were actually asked when we were going to do this again. While a challenge at times, Lindsey and I were blessed to have been given the opportunity to direct this and we can't wait to make it even better next year.

English 101

At about the same time of the carnival, we had partnered with a believer in our church to teach English once a week to about twelve children. Most of these also come to our weekly kid's meetings at church. Our class has since added another ten kids, and they too are now coming to our kid's meetings. I've never seen kids with such a desire to learn....even to do homework! It's a contest at the beginning of class to see who can get their work graded first. I'll be checking one assignment and one of the kids will walk up, take the notebook I'm grading away and hand me theirs.

A Different Kind of Camp

Usually when you tell someone you're heading up to camp visions of summer camps of years gone by pop in your head...rustic cabins yet they have running water and indoor plumbing, canteen stores selling snacks and candy, etc...  You know, the places where kids want to be sent during the summer. The images that fill my mind now are quite different.  The kind of camp I'm talking about is a refugee camp. Nestled just outside the center of Decan and up a hill are the remains of what was once a refugee camp that housed numerous families. Now, eleven years later, about ten families and a total of thirty children still call this place "home".  Most of the children that attend the English class and the weekly meetings at the church live here.  They walk about 45 minutes each way to the church...makes me feel a bit sheepish when I complain about traffic.

With the kid's carnival behind us and the Chi Alpha team back in Arizona, Lindsey and I took our three interns on their and our first visit to the camp.  Much to the delight of the children, we announced we wanted to come visit them and their families and to spend time with them.  They immediately began telling us everything they wanted to do with and for us.  The next afternoon, as we made our way up the winding dirt road to the camp, I spotted a few figures in the distance.  As we got closer I could see they were our kids.  When they recognized our vehicle they all jumped up and down with joy.

We could barely make it out of the vehicle before we were surrounded by a couple dozen smiling faces.  Within minutes teams were made and we were racing back and forth playing soccer.  Even one to the fathers, Miftar, joined in.  I think he had as much fun as the kids did.  I looked up during a break in the game and saw the smaller ones blowing hundreds of bubbles into the air and chasing after them with Lindsey.

We have since made one other visit to the camp, and every time are touched by the love the children show us and how much the parents trust us with their beautiful children.  We've been able to pick up even the littlest ones and take them for ice cream, play games, and share the Gospel with them.

Below are some photos from our first visit.

Miftar (left) is a veteran from the war with Serbia.  His home just across the border in Albania was destroyed by Serbs.

Some of the children who live at the refugee camp.  Juliana (in the pink shirt) and Donika (front in the red shirt) made us the traditional Kosovar dish, Fli.

I've not met a child that smiles, and laughs more than Donkia.

This should do for Summer 2010 Part 1.  We're still living out Part 2, but look forward to sharing it with you all soon.  We are so thankful for all of your prayers, and we hope you enjoyed our update.  We leave in two days for the Encounter 2010 conference in Budapest, Hungary.  We'll be driving through Macedonia, Serbia and of course, Hungary.

Hope you all are having a wonderful summer....God bless you!!