July 25th, 2006

Two days ago, I had blood drawn at our Orthodox Clinic in Tirana. Dr. Linderman, the American doctor on our team, picked up the results yesterday and brought them to me to discuss the outcome. Amazingly, my hemoglobin, which was what I had been most concerned about, had actually gone up to its highest level in a long time. For this, I was extremely grateful, recognizing in it the grace of God. I would not have to go to Greece or somewhere else for a blood transfusion. ( Albania 's blood supply is considered unsafe.) All the other tests came out within normal limits except for the liver function indicator, and this was quite alarming. These results indicated that there was cancer activity in the liver, something that hadn't been detected before, or so we thought. In looking over my tests results from Mayo Clinic, however, Dr. Linderman said that the last tests I had in the States just before leaving for Albania showed an elevation in the liver function indicator. These had not been pointed out to me at the time, perhaps because we did not meet with a doctor. Nathan observed that perhaps that also was the grace of God because had we seen those results before leaving we would have had a much more difficult time choosing to come. We have seen again and again how critical it has been for us to be here at this time because of the summer ministries, but also because of a number of serious issues that have arisen and needed our intervention.

It is interesting to be seriously ill and live in a society that refuses to talk openly about illness. Here, when someone asks how I am doing, I almost always say, mir , which means, “well,” because if I say, ç'ka (“so-so”), or jo mir (“not well”), I will always be contradicted and told, “no, you are doing well.” Then I'll be scolded for not thinking positively or reminded that God, of course, will do a miracle. In Albania , terminally ill people are never told that they are seriously ill, even up until the point of death. They are always told that they will get well. When death comes then, family and friends fall to wailing and crying, as though death had come as a complete surprise. The Orthodox for the most part, act in exactly the same manner, wailing and weeping as those who have no hope. It is very distressing to observe such things.

How does one balance faith in God's power to heal and acknowledging that very likely, if one has cancer, one will die from the disease? I think one can hold both things at the same time. As I have said before, I firmly believe that I will never get so ill that I will be beyond God's ability to heal me. At the same time, I see that my disease is progressing and I ought to take measures to be prepared to die, perhaps even soon. The fact that I probably have cancer in the liver now makes my death seem even more imminent. With Nathan's help, I am trying to focus not on the painful path that may lie ahead, but on the joys and responsibilities of today. I know I have written about this before, but with each new phase of my illness comes the need to learn many of the same things over again. I hope with each new phase, however, that I am learning the same thing at a deeper level, but I am not sure I can really judge such things. For example, I remember that God loves me with a depth that I cannot even fathom. This ignites in me an overwhelming sense of joy and the desire to respond to Him with my own love. What I see differently now, however, is that God loves everyone with that same unfathomable love and that I ought to try to see that love in them—especially in those whom I find unlovely or who have wronged or offended me in some way. This forces me to look at them differently. How can I malign someone whom God loves so deeply? I think my comprehension of God's unimaginable holiness also is growing, perhaps with very small steps. I really have such a desire to grasp more of his holiness because I think it is the key to humility. How can I be flippant or arrogant or selfish if I see God in his holiness. As the responses of others reveal, all one can say in the presence of God's holiness is “I am unclean!” This also gives meaning to why we say, “Lord have mercy,” so many times in our prayers. What else can we say?

* * *

My mom's death still haunts me. Sometimes I have strange dreams about it. I do not think that I have fully grieved for her. She died during the middle of the Kosovo camps, and although Nathan was with me when we received the news of her passing, he had to return a few days later to Kosovo because of some serious issues that had arisen with the media. While he was away, I had to discipline my mind strictly so that I would not break down with no one around to support me. I didn't know what I would do if I broke down. All the time Nathan was away, almost everyone else from our mission team was also away or left after his departure. It was a strange feeling to be almost alone here, desperately in need of support and floundering a bit to find it. I was able to speak with my sister and brothers on the phone during that time, and that was a big help to me in processing mom's death. The children and I also spent two days with the Linderman family at St. Vlash, about an hour's drive from Tirana, and that was a precious time for us, and good support for me.

It was much harder to be absent from mom's funeral than I ever thought possible. I think we made the right decision in not going home for it, but I realized, perhaps too late, the importance of being able to say farewell to a loved one, and the need to be together with other family members at that time. I don't think I will be able to fully grieve for my mother until I have returned to her house and seen that she is no longer there to welcome me.

I told Nathan last night that I feel a bit homeless right now, despite the fact that we have lived in our present house for almost six years. He said that his mom felt that way after her mother died because there was no longer anyone “to go home to.” I suspect that I will feel this way for some time.

* * *

The children's camps in Kosovo, which occupied so much of Nathan's time and attention in June, went very well. Under Nathan's direction, twenty-five of our young people organized camps for 1,250 children in three different locations. As I mentioned in my previous update, George Russell also went to Kosovo to assist with our team, particularly during Nathan's absence. He had such a wonderful time there that he ended up staying almost the entire time. Our staff members wore T-shirts printed with the name of the Orthodox Church of Albania, and this caused a big stir in town. Several newspaper articles were printed, accusing our group of doing religious propaganda in the schools. Nathan and the other leaders of the camp were able to meet the mayor of the town as well as leaders from the government to explain our presence there and what our program was. He also met with several reporters, who ended up publishing very positive articles about our camp program and the role of the Orthodox Church of Albania in reaching out to these Muslim children. Nathan was extremely pleased with how our leaders handled a very volatile situation during his absence, but our young people were extremely relieved to have Nathan back. At the end of our group's time in Kosovo, relations with the town and the media were very favorable. A very positive article, complete with four large photographs, was published recently in a local Albanian newspaper. This favorable publicity comes at a critical time when the Church is suffering through some very negative press, something that has brought much grief to the Archbishop.