Albania Winter 2000

February 17

     Carolyn, Ismet and myself were three souls in a tempest. We tramped along in a voiceless misery with a wetness that enveloped us. Perseverance was now our call! Rain and cold had been our only companion all morning. Now with the greatest of difficulty we were dragging ourselves across a slushy field towards a crumbled old house on the edge of the village. Maybe shelter awaited us and smoke from the chimney was a good sign. 
     Opening the door was a wife dutifully obeying the commands of her husband.  We entered a room just as a young boy was making a feeble but frantic attempt to occupy the window seat that looked out over a beautiful scene.
     One could see the soaking valley (the one that we had just surged over) fringed with a green carpet and further across, our vision could see the rising foothills with its reddish winter brush and a filmy succession of olive trees and noontime shadows. 
     With their son still at the window, the husband sitting at the daybed and the wife by her stove, we could tell everything would be alright and everything would remain alright while we were at this home with two rooms.
     There's something enchanting about the honest eyes of the poor.  Their soft voices make compromises that petition all things favorable.   Sadi was a plain man of sixty-two with ruddy cheeks and an old Russian jacket.  At fifty-eight Vali was a bit younger but looked a bit older than her husband.  Her sole component was a practical hardiness.  They had a hot stove (see the picture) and shared its warmth. They had fresh baked bread (see the picture) and shared their food and to us as strangers spoke words that formed friendly conversations!  Poverty isn't measured by a lack of money.
     This is a picture of Matthew 25:35 (NAS). "For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat. I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink.  I was a stranger and you invited me in".

    Winter 2000 Index