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| Albania 2014 - Me and Elidona |
I was driving in the
morning, on my way to work when I get a message saying that you're gone. Gone
for good. So, you know what happened? I had to stop my car in the middle of the
highway – read and re-read over and over that short agonizing message, "She has been stabbed by her dad…” in hopes that those words miraculously changed to
something else. Anything else but those words.
But it didn’t. My heart’s
playing tricks on me. "There's just no way... This must be one of those
crude jokes." And it’s not. Ervisa just posted in her Facebook about
you.
It compels me to reminisce our friendship.
You didn’t speak a hint of English
but you always wanted to talk to me; so, you sometimes forced your friend to
translate our conversation. Of course, I tried with my broken Albanian.
I remember how you would always pat
my head because you were taller than me. Joking about how short I was. Elidona,
you’re just abnormally tall for a teenage girl.
I remember how you slept during my
English lessons; not paying attention to the important alphabets and vowels.
You kept saying, “Unë nuk kuptoj! Unë nuk kuptoj!” (I do not understand!)
I remember how you were upset with
me because I kept picking on you during our English lessons. So you kept avoiding me during outside activities. But, I just wanted
to see you learn and be able to speak English.
I remember you pushing me into the cold beach when you knew I didn’t want to swim. You know I got more sick that day?
I remember the dances you practiced for the team performance. Seeing you swing around your lanky legs and arms made me laugh so much.
I remember on the way back to
church, you really wanted to sit in the bus with me and the team. So, you left
your designated bus to sit with us.
I remember how you almost threw up
on me because the bus ride was too much for you.
I remember how you still sat behind
me after throwing up because you really really wanted to talk to us.
I remember you kept asking us to sing ku ka si tirona.
I remember how you were crying
because our team had to go back home.
I remember how much you insisted us
on staying a little bit longer, promising that you would learn English and be a
better student.
I remember how many times you kept
asking us, “Will you come back next year?”
I remember I said to you, “Pray
that we come back.”
I remember your promise to speak
English the next time we meet.
But it pains me so so much to see
that I will not hear your English. I won’t talk about my overwhelming anger against your Dad. However, it’s strange, yesterday I
read about how amazing God is; that Christ is the way the truth and the
life (John 14:1-6) - rejoicing at the works that Christ had perfectly carried
out, even unto death. Rejoicing with fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. Funny how I am to rejoice at this moment. Yet, I cannot
imagine what your Dad’s going through. I have no right to say anything, but I
know that he has to carry this for the rest of his life. However, times like these, I wonder and pander at the works of God. I trust that He will make all things come together for good.
Elidona, just know
that I’m praying for you, your Dad, your family, your church members, your
friends, and your beautiful qytet Albania.
Do të këndoj përherë Jezus, Të dua Jezus, Të dua Ty
I'm just in utter disbelief. I know you loved Christ. I know you loved singing songs of worship. I know your favorite song, How Great is Our God. I grieve and mourn that you’re
gone, but filled with joy that you’re free. Going to miss you. You were a joy to our Albanian Dream Team and me.
You’re in a good place now.
So, fly Charitoo, fly
Fly on eagle’s wings
Fly on chariots of fire and gold
Fly through the ladder of Jacob
Fly with the heavenly hosts
Fly forever satisfied and beautified
Fly into the arms of our great
Redeemer
Fly Charitoo fly