Our ministry host guides us through narrow dirt roads surrounded by concrete walls that make up houses. I walk slowly so I can take in as much as I can. I see colorful walls. I smell trash and woodburning stove tops.I hear foreign conversation between two neighbors. I peek through fences and open doors to get a better glimpse of life here.
This month my team has the opportunity to live in the middle of a Roma (Gypsy) community in the city of Elbason, Albania. It is one of the most unique experiences I’ve ever had in my life.
Every corner we turn is greeted with a new set of staring eyes. Our ministry host is well known and respected in this area. After years of investing in the Roma community, they look at him as one of their own. As we pass, we wave a large hello and are returned with a slight smile and a nod while our ministry host engages them in lively conversation.
Out of nowhere we hear our names being called. It is the children from the daily feeding program at the church. Every day, we help them wash their hands and brush their teeth before we serve them lunch. They run to us as fast as they can and jump into our arms for long hugs.
Every morning, we are taken to the house of a church member for good conversation, encouragement, and prayer. It is one of our favorite times of the day.
With bright and eager faces, we are welcomed into a home. I quickly learn how hospitable these people are as they offer us juice, fruit, coffee, and the best seats in their home.
Our ministry host translates as we go down the row to introduce ourselves with our name, where we are from, and anything else our new friends would like to know. As it gets to my turn, there is a slight stare, a warm smile, and a funny comment. I look at our translator to get in on the joke.
He looks at me and says, “They say you look like you are from here. They ask if you are one of them.”
I return the warm smile as we all giggle.
It wasn’t the first time since I’ve been here that I’ve heard these comments. Our ministry host even mentioned that the Romas would enjoy meeting me. We share the same dark hair and dark skin that identify a Roma in any country. I see how this lovely, elderly church woman sitting across from me could easily be mistaken for my grandmother.
As the conversation continues, I pause and think, still taking in the fact that I’m in Albania, that I’m on the World Race.
I think about this new world that I am living in. A culture of negative stereotypes and weighted traditions. A place where education has little value and girls are married off as young as age 11. A neighborhood on the outskirts of a city, stuck in the cycle of poverty.
We leave our home visit and I hug my new friend as if she were my grandmother. We laugh at the fact we are the same height. I probably left her home more spiritually blessed than she was.
As we leave the neighborhood, I look around still letting my eyes take in as much as I can. I think about how I really could blend in here.
I start to compare.
I think about the difference in backgrounds. I think about the difference in pasts and the huge possibility in the difference of futures.
I can walk around and physically see these people’s needs while mine are hidden, neatly tucked away inside.
Humility starts to wrap itself around me and I began to feel small. I just sat through home visits and heard families praise God and testify about His faithfulness.
We walk back to our gated ministry home for the month. The same place where the feeding program and church services are held. I sit down and begin to process our morning visits.
The Lord leads me to scripture:
“Has not God chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world to be rich in faith and to inherit the Kingdom He promised those who love Him?” James 2:5
I smile and thank God. I see His love and faithfulness through the eyes of my neighbors for the month.
I think to myself, “Yes, I am one of yours. You are one of mine. And we are His.”
