abbey abroad :)

I'm back from an exciting trip through Italy and England with my mom and sister! I'm going through all  1, 578 pictures (and that's just from one of the two cameras we used!), and then I'd love to share some with you.

In the meantime, please revel in the cuteness of my twin nieces:

Mom, Ashley, and I spent the day in beautiful Ohrid yesterday. It was strange to think that it was probably my last time to go there.

Ohrid has some really beautiful jewelry made from the special Ohrid pearl, and I've been wanting to get some Ohrid pearl jewelry as a special token of my time in Macedonia. I decided on a beautiful ring with a small pearl in the middle, simple silver work on each side.

As I looked at the ring on my finger on the way home last night, I couldn't help but wonder... Will this be a special piece of jewelry that my daughters (or nieces) pass down to their daughters for generations?

And will the story be passed down with it?

The story of a scared 23-year-old girl getting on a plane to go to a far-away place called Macedonia, having no idea how hard it would be, yet incredibly wonderful at the same time, thinking that she was quite grown up but learning that she still had quite a bit of growing up to do, and of her God who proved time and time again that He is faithful... that He takes broken things and fixes them, and He makes everything beautiful in its time.

I guess that's what you call a legacy. My dad loved the word. "Jesus is our legacy," he would say. He's been gone exactly a year today. I still can't believe it most days. But I know the legacy my dear dad left, and it's the same one I hope to leave.

A legacy that's actually not mine at all, but rather... His.

Miss him every day. And every day I'm thankful for Hope.

Holy Spirit, living breath of God,
Breathe new life into my willing soul.
Bring the presence of the risen Lord
To renew my heart and make me whole.
Cause Your Word to come alive in me;
Give me faith for what I cannot see;
Give me passion for Your purity.
Holy Spirit, breathe new life in me.

Holy Spirit, come abide within;
May Your joy be seen in all I do--
Love enough to cover ev'ry sin
In each thought and deed and attitude,
Kindness to the greatest and the least,
Gentleness that sows the path of peace.
Turn my striving into works of grace.
Breath of God, show Christ in all I do.

Holy Spirit, from creation's birth,
Giving life to all that God has made,
Show Your power once again on earth;
Cause Your church to hunger for Your ways.
Let the fragrance of our prayers arise,
Lead us on the road of sacrifice,
That in unity the face of Christ
Will be clear for all the world to see.

--Holy Spirit, Living Breath of God
  Keith and Kristyn Getty

I remember sitting across the dinner table from a new American friend a few months ago, her baby boy in her lap and her two-year-old babbling in half-English, half-Macedonian, when she said the words that struck a chord in me.

"We are called to suffer. And being away from my family is my suffering."


Being away from my family is my suffering.

And I finally had words for the way I've been feeling this whole time.

I recently read an article that says, "Life overseas is a form of fasting." The writer goes on to say, "I want to know God deeply and I want Him to be known so much that I will risk scary diseases, fast from my beloved family and worldly comforts..."

When I fast from food and feel the pang of hunger, I am humbly reminded of my own humanity. It's a way to say, "As much as my body hungers for food, I am so much more hungry for You."

And when I feel the familiar longing for my family, I am reminded of my longing for Him, the One who is with me still now and forever. The One I can never get away from (Romans 8:38-39), because "...If I settle on the far side of the sea, even there Your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast" (Psalm 139:9).

And when I think of separation from my family as a form of suffering, I see suffering in a new light.

Suffering was not being able to rub my daddy's feet the way he liked or fix his meals when he was too sick to do it himself.

Suffering is far-away rejoicing in the birth of my first nieces instead of being able to hold them in my arms.

Suffering is listening to my precious mom's heart-hurts and crying with her over Skype instead of sitting by her side the way I want to.

Suffering is not being able to help paint Andy and DeAnna's new house, or go with Alex to Mississippi State football games, or see Ash looking beautiful in her bridesmaid's dress for a friend's wedding.

But in the midst of this suffering, I'm reminded... that it is good. The thing that is best for me and for my family is that I love Him most. To love Him so much that it makes even my most precious relationships on earth look like hate in comparison (Luke 14:26).

And so I choose to suffer in this way. Not out of guilt because of all He's done for me, but out of joy. Because it--He--is more than worth it.

"For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too." 2 Corinthians 1:5

Daughter, sister, niece, granddaughter, sister-in-lawlove... and now... aunt!


The most beautiful little girls in the whole wide world (this is a non-debatable fact) were born early morning on May 5. And now, my favorite family of two...

is a family of four!



Audrey Claire weighed 4 lb. 8 oz...



and Madelyn Alyse, 4-12.




I remember David Platt once saying, "Sometimes, the Lord takes away. But He never stops giving." He gives constantly, and He gives abundantly, and He's given us double!


"May the Lord direct your hearts to the love of God and to the steadfastness of Christ." 2 Thess. 3:5 Join me in daily praying this prayer for my sweet nieces.

Also, please pray for dear Madelyn's lungs. Hopefully, the twins will be out of the NICU soon so this precious family can really begin their life together!

I was sitting on bus 20 in the aisle seat, knowing I still had 20 minutes or so to go until I got to Shutka, when I saw her get on--an older Roma lady carrying three big sacks of clothes, struggling to find a seat on the crowded bus. I scooted over next to the window and motioned to her (hands down, palm facing me, the way they do here) to come sit down.

"Thank you, devojce," she said, followed by a string of mutterings I couldn't quite understand. And before I knew it, we were chatting.

I asked her all the usual questions.

"Do you work? Do you sell clothes?" I asked, motioning to the bags. "No," she answered.

"Where do you live?" "Shutka."

"Are you married?"

My heart squeezed tight as tears sprang to her eyes. "My husband died. Three weeks ago... he got sick and wouldn't listen to me when I told him to go to the doctor... he died. He died." She kept saying it.

I looked into her face--tears now running down her leathered cheeks before she could catch them with the corners of her headscarf. And I saw only pain, hurt, loss. Hopelessness. The laugh lines and crinkles around her eyes that had lit up her face when I tried speaking Romani were now smooth, her forehead creased.

I took her hand in mine as she cried, knowing we were making quite a scene on the quiet bus.

"I understand," I said, my own thoughts going to my precious dad, whom I seem to miss more every day instead of less. "My dad died about ten months ago. I know it's hard. I understand."

But really... I don't understand. I know what it is to lose a father I adored more than anyone on the face of the earth (okay, he ties with Mom!). I know how it feels to know that he's gone but to still have a teeny sliver of hope that maybe it didn't really happen, that you can still call him and talk to him and feel his whiskers on his cheek like you used to. But I don't know what it is to lose a husband. And I don't know what it's like to lose someone so close and have no hope of seeing him again. Praise Him, I don't know what that feels like.

But this woman only knows that hopelessness.

As we got closer to my bus stop, I asked her if I could pray with her. She agreed. So I prayed for the sweet baba in Jesus' name, including all of the Gospel I could manage to fit in. And when I said amen and looked back up, she was crying again.

"Thank you," she kept saying. I told her I had to go, but I asked her if I could come visit her sometime. I gave her my number and practically begged her to call me, not thinking she really would. But a few hours later, she did! She told me our conversation made her feel "very good." I went to their house last week and plan to go back soon.

I often hear people pray for "divine appointments"--and it's something I pray myself sometimes. But maybe... maybe we aren't supposed to only talk to the people next to us on the bus if we think it's a "divine appointment", if we feel that "special prompting"? Maybe every person we come into contact with is, in a way, a divine appointment--someone He has put in our paths. Because, after all, they are in our paths. At the same time, though, may I never be compelled to share out of guilt but out of love and a passion for His glory.

The woman I met on the bus is named Bada. Please pray for her and her son, daughter-in-law, and three grandchildren to hear and be receptive to the Truth.

There's this show on TLC called "My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding". {I politically-corrected the name of the show for this blog post.} :) Have you seen it? I haven't. Of course, I do see the real thing pretty regularly! Now that it's warmer, I'll be seeing some sort of Roma wedding procession almost weekly. Since I haven't actually seen the show, I don't know much about it. But I believe it features weddings of Roma in Great Britain, and it seems like those are pretty different from the Roma weddings in Macedonia (but just as flamboyant!). So, just in case you find all things Roma as interesting as I do, let me share with you about Roma weddings in Macedonia!

One of the stereotypes of the Roma is the picture of a child bride. I've found that stereotype to be true in some areas, but not in others. Generally, they do marry young, often as teenagers. In the more rural areas that I visit, they seem to marry younger. But in the areas I visit where the Roma put more focus on getting an education, they usually wait to get married and sometimes even look down on those that marry young. When my Roma friends find out I'm 24 and not married, some of them nod approvingly, some jokingly call me an old maid, and some literally gasp. So there's quite a range of feelings on the subject. :)

Recently, a 17-year-old friend named Arifka got married. This is the first Roma wedding I've been to where I've actually known the bride, so I saw things more up-close than before. I only stayed for a few hours (and believe me, the wedding lasted much, much longer!), but I'll share with you what I saw while I was there.

Much of the celebration takes place outside, and basically the whole neighborhood shows up. While the bride and her family are making the final preparations inside, the groom's family comes for the bride. The joyful procession also includes musicians playing drums and zurlas. When the procession arrives at the bride's home, they stop in front of the house of the bride's family, where everyone outside starts dancing the oro, the traditional Roma circle dance.

That's a zurla. They're loud.

Meanwhile, the bride anxiously waits inside. She wears the traditional Roma dress, the shalvar. This is fancy stuff here!

The bride and me. She's short, I'm tall... awkward photos happen.

Her close friends and family come to see her and offer well wishes. Sweet Brima was crying as she congratulated and hugged her friend.



And, of course, in true Roma fashion, there is loud music and dancing.




The groom's mother and other female relatives enter the house. Then a veil is placed over the bride, and she is brought before her future in-laws. While they wait for her to come, there's more--you guessed it--music and dancing.

It was pretty smoky inside. Usually is!

The bride kneels at the feet of her future mother-in-law, and they do a few rituals that symbolize her joining their family and committing to serve her new family. The bride is then given a gift by her new family, including jewelry and a dress. Then, everyone moves outside (where the music and dancing have continued this whole time, by the way), and the bride leads the oro (circle dance).



The bride then goes back inside for  a wardrobe change--she puts on the dress she was just given by her new family. Then she goes back outside to join the oro again.






The dancing goes on for hours, and there are a few other traditions that take place, but I left at this point, so I'll have to tell you about them after the next wedding I go to.

Interesting note: Though I spent hours at the wedding, I never knew who the groom was!

Another interesting note: This was what they consider a small celebration, since it took place in the winter. I found out a few weeks ago that they will have another wedding in the summer! This is a pretty common occurrence.

Want to know how to pray for Arifka and her new husband? Here are a few ideas:

• I've heard that Arifka's new husband is a believer. As for Arifka, she's attended Bible studies before, but if she is a believer, she is very young in her faith. Please pray that both Arifka and her new husband will grow in their relationships with God.
• Pray that God will bless this new union.
• Pray that Arifka will have a good relationship with her new in-laws.
• Pray for material provision for this young family, as things are hard financially for all the Roma.