Reflections on My Homes

I’m a single dad for the next 24 hours.  This morning Sasha and Alexis took the train to do some paperwork in the city of Kostenets (where her family lives).  I’m taking care of the older two girls tonight.  We will drive out to Kostenets tomorrow.

The girls are in school now, so I had the morning to get some legwork done.  I went downtown to the local Christian bookstore to look for some discipleship materials for some young men who want to learn more about their faith.  Afterward I stopped by my old language school.  The secretary at the school is a friend of ours.  I thought I would see how she is doing.  It was fortunate I stopped by.

As I popped into the office I saw a somewhat frustrated maintenance lady.  She helps out around the office keeping the place tidy and organized, but she is not the secretary and does not speak English.  She informed me that there was a man in one of the classrooms and she had no idea why he was there.  The secretary (our friend) was out sick, and the director had not come in yet.  She asked me to translate to find out what he needed.

The man was an Egyptian who wanted to learn Bulgarian.  He had come to pay his bill for the class that starts next week.  I informed him that he could wait for the director, but we were not sure when he would come.  The Egyptian man decided to come back later.

As we walked out together I told him what a good school it was.  He asked how long it took for me to learn Bulgarian.  I told him I was comfortable speaking after about a year, but I have improved quite a bit in the three years I have lived here.  I also told him I have a cheat in that I have Bulgarian family.  He told me he also has a Bulgarian wife.  He moved here with her from Egypt because of the conflict in his home country.  I told him I have been praying for Egypt.  He seemed to appreciate that.

As I headed toward the subway to go home, I thought about those first few months in Sofia almost three years ago.  Back then everything was new and unknown.  How things have changed.  I really feel at home here.  We are going back to the U.S. next year.  I am looking forward to it, but honestly the U.S. seems a bit foreign to me now.  I’ve spent most of the last decade outside of America.  Pop culture references that I hear from time to time don’t always make sense, and the U.S. news reports I read and hear sometimes make America sound like a very different country than the one I left.  Bulgaria has changed dramatically in the past three years.  I can only imagine America has too.  What will it look like to me next year?

Running the Race

On Sunday I ran the Sofia Half Marathon.  Don’t worry; this is not a boasting blog about how amazing I am for running a race that hundreds of thousands of people run every year.  I came in 288^th out of 292, so I don’t exactly have a lot to boast about anyway.  There is a point to this blog post, but boasting is not it.

The half marathon course is essentially a large loop that we ran three times, so I got to see the same sites over and over again.  The first loop was exciting.  We started out at a fairly good pace.  We were full of energy from the healthy breakfasts we had eaten earlier that morning.  Things were looking good.  We cheered each other on and there were smiles on many faces.  The worst experience that first lap was when one of the guys running a water station blocked me from getting a drink.  (Not cool dude.)

The second lap was a bit harder.  The smiles faded, and gaps between runners increased.  I kept thinking to myself, the next time I pass this point will be my last time.  For some reason, that did not help much.

The final lap was the worst.  I was tired, but still had a long way to go.  I started to get discouraged.  Then off to the side I heard two voices yelling, “Dave Bliss from Minnesota!  Go!  Go!”  It was a couple of my American friends who came out to cheer on the runners.  Keep in mind, there were not a lot of fans watching us Sunday morning.  For most of the race, the only spectators I saw were the police who were keeping cars off the course.  To get encouragement like this during the final few kilometers was just what I needed to keep going.

I climbed the hill on the course for the final time, and rounded the half-way point of the loop, but I was losing steam.  My run had turned into a shuffle.  My body was running low on energy.  Every step felt like I was lifting a lead weight.  As I approached the stadium I saw my family and the family of my running partner cheering me on.  I gave them high fives, and I pushed on to the end.  I had run the course laid out for me.

After Sunday, I will never underestimate the importance of having people there to help you along.  Be it my running partner, my family and friends who cheered me on, or the woman who handed me a cup of Gatorade as I started the final lap, I could not have made it without them.

Like the course I ran, serving in ministry in a land I did not grow up in can be tiring.  Often times it can feel like we are running alone.  Sometimes those who are supposed to help callously hinder us (like the race volunteer who would not let me get a drink), but such people are a rarity and quickly get left behind.  It is the sense of being alone that makes this race the hardest.

But then just when I begin to wonder if it is worth it, and if I should go on, I get support from the sidelines.  Like the note I got from an elder at my sending church last month letting me know that he gets and reads my newsletters every time I send them and is praying for us; or the friend who sent us a gift last month because she believes in our work here.  Such people keep us going.

The race I ran on Sunday was nothing compared to the race Christians run every day.  Sometimes we stumble and fall.  Sometimes we are week and tired.  Sometimes we feel alone (though we never are).  We press on by the grace of God.  By His strength we will finish the race.

Iron sharpens Iron

A while back I had a conversation with a soldier who had recently returned from a tour in a war torn country.  He explained to me what he went through while serving his country.  As a U.S. soldier he fought against terrorists who had poorer quality weapons and soldiers, and a much smaller army.  There was no way they could win, yet they fought against the American forces with such hatred.  Though they could not win, they could hurt.  Even small hurts put psychological stress on my soldier friend.  I do not truly understand it because I did not live it.  I have never been on that battlefield.

A while back I had another conversation with a man who works with a minority people group in Bulgaria.  I asked him how his ministry was going.  He was a bit awkward in his response, and I quickly caught the reason.  His work had recently faced major setbacks and he had to start over again after having invested a great deal of time and energy to little effect.  I reminded him that I too am a missionary.  I too have taken risks and started projects.  I too have worked with people on a spiritual level, and I too understand just how often projects fizzle and ministries need to be restarted.  I understand that at times like this we can feel like we have failed or wasted our time working in one area only to find the results less than satisfying.  I understand the attacks of our enemy.  I understand it because I have lived it.  I have been on that battlefield.  We cannot be defeated, but we can be hurt.

Just this weekend this same man gave me a call.  He explained that he was just calling to see how things are going.  We shared recent developments and prayer requests.  After our conversation I realized just how much I needed that call.

There is a reason soldiers do not fight alone.  We need people who understand what we are going through.  We need other soldiers on the battlefield with us.  We need a band of brothers.  We need each other in a life like this.  I am blessed to have a handful of such godly men in my life in Sofia.  We can share struggles, share successes, share strategies, build each other up, and make each other stronger in a way that is non-threatening and non-political.  Iron truly does sharpen iron.

A Decade of Life

Ten years ago today was a very special day for our family.  I use the word family, though at the time Sasha and I were just a couple.  On Thursday, September 18, 2003 Sasha took a trip to the University of Minnesota hospital.  This was something she had done every week for the past 4 months.  On the odd numbered weeks she would stay overnight and endure 24 hours of chemotherapy.  On the even number weeks she had it easier with only two and a half hours of

chemo.  September 18^th was, mercifully, an even numbered week.  It was also her last treatment.

The spring and summer of 2003 was a time that was very dark for Sasha and me.  She went through a torturous treatment fighting a very deadly and aggressive cancer that quickly weakened her body.  She was a young woman in her 20’s, but she could not even walk a few blocks.  Sasha has always had a high pain tolerance.  That summer I watched her go through terrible pain.  She hated it, but she took it.

Mercifully, I worked the early morning shift at my job most of the summer.  I started work at 5 am most days.  The half hour drive to work alone in the dark gave me plenty of time to vent my emotions in solitude.  (Big 24 year old men don’t cry unless they can’t be seen.)

Week after week we waited for the labs to come back.  Perhaps we were nearing the end of her treatment.  Perhaps this week we would see the light at the end of the tunnel.  Week after week we were disappointed as the tests showed the cancer remained in her body.  Finally her numbers got to where they needed to be, which meant she had 6 weeks of treatment to go.

Thursday, September 18^th was a day I remember with much joy.  We left the hospital after that final treatment believing that the cancer had been defeated.  Subsequent tests revealed that her cancer had indeed been cured.  She was free, and now the healing could begin, first physically, than emotionally.

Sasha has shown her resilience over the years.  It was great to watch her recover over the following months.  I remember the crisp fall day when we were first able to walk the entire path in the woods near our house.  It had been a long time since we took that walk together.  She not only recovered from that terrible summer, but she has gone on to do so many great things in life since.

She lived in Poland for 4 years and learned her 4^th language (5^th if you count Koine Greek).  She gave birth to three very beautiful and very smart children, and she has been a wonderful mother to them.  She started and ran her own successful business.  And those are just a few of her accomplishments.

Every year we celebrate September 18^th as “Survivors Day.”  This is the 10^th Survivors Day.  I can’t imagine life without you my beautiful darling wife.

Sasha: 10 – Cancer: 0

Musala

Yesterday the Sofia team climbed Rila, the largest mountain on the Balkan Peninsula. We started out with a plan to take a ski lift to a spot about a 3 hour hike from Musala, the top of the mountain.  However we soon learned that particular ski lift was closed for maintenance for the next two days.  So we took the smaller sky lift that would drop us off 6 hours from the top.

This put a serious crimp in our plans.  We had planed to take the first lift ride up, casually walk to the top, take some pictures, and casually walk back down to catch the last lift back to our car.  Still, we had all day to get up and down again, and if for some reason we ran out of time, we could just go back having had a fun day on the mountain.

Though we were all smiles as our trip began, it was hard not to look at the peek so far away and wonder if we would make it.

The walk up was long.  It took us about 6 hours to get to the top.  It was worth every step.  The views were amazing.

My favorite part was a climb up a steep slope of rocks just after we passed the Musala Hut (a cabin where hikers can spend the night).  It was a hard climb, but when we reached the top we found a beautiful lake with Kenny sitting next to it (because he was so much faster than Sasha and me).

We had to stop every so often to check the map to make sure we were on the right path.  As the route became more rocky we had to count on the trail markings to find our way.  The higher we got the harder the trail became.

At the top of the mountain we reached ice lake.  The landscape was almost totally devoid of life.  The largest animal we saw was some sort of bird of pray (probably an eagle) that made a sound that sounded like a deer call.

After Ice Lake, we climbed what little was left of the mountain into the clouds.  After six hours of hiking we reached the top.

Sasha at the peek.

It took us 6 hours to get to the top, so we only had 3:20 to get back to the lift.  We went as quickly as we could.  We didn't make it, which meant another 40 minutes of walking to get to our car.  Every step of the way hurt.  A lot.  But it was worth it.

Before leaving the mountain we stopped to get a bite to eat.  We were tired, but happy.  It was a great day.

Extra Caution

You may have heard that the U.S. has closed several embassies around the world under the threat of terrorist attacks.  As someone who lives abroad, I keep a close eye on international tensions.  The embassy in Sofia was not on the list, so I was not concerned about Sasha's appointment there today.

It was to be a fairly simple visit.  She just needed a document notarized.  Sasha's sister was watching the kids, so I went with her.

We were a bit surprised at the added security at the embassy.  The Bulgarian border guard had an armored truck stationed outside.  Parking near the building was coned off.  There were more guards than usual, and they were positioned all around the embassy.  When we went to the door we had to talk to two different men before they would let either of us enter.  As I had no business there myself, I was not allowed to accompany Sasha inside even though I had my passport with me to show that I am a U.S. citizen.  I have been to the embassy many times.  This is the first time they ever refused to let me in.  While Sasha got here document notarized, I sat in the car and tried to look as little like a bad guy as possible.

The visit went well.  Sasha got her work done, and the embassy staff was very polite, as usual.  Passing through security was a bit more intense than previous visits.  They kept asking her if she had a weapon on her.  They also asked her to turn off her cell phone and were a bit concerned when the buttons on the phone stayed lit for a few seconds after the phone shut off.  Eventually they let here through, she did her business and left.

I'm glad the facility is secure, and hope it remains so.  G.I. Joe and G.I. Mitko seem to be doing their cooperative jobs well.

The U.S. Embassy in Sofia.  A little piece of home right in our neighborhood.

God's Provision

Thank you to all of you who prayed for our trip home.  The mechanic finished up our car the evening before our departure, and we were ready to roll right after breakfast the next morning.  We drove from Portoroz to Belgrade the first day and then from Belgrade home to Sofia the next day.  All in all the trip went well, and we made it home with about 9 liters of gas left in the tank.  Thank you for your prayers!

I have to admit, I was a bit concerned about this trip.  Our ministry fund tends to start running low this time of year and a drive across the Balkan Peninsula is not free.  I am very grateful to all our supporters who gave generously this month.  Without even asking, we had a bigger than expected month of donations including an extra gift from one of our regular supporting churches back in Minnesota.

Thank you to all of you on our prayer and financial support teams.  You came through for us this month.