abbey abroad :)

Confession time.

I, Abbey Hammond, am an obsessive list-maker.

I love lists. They make me feel so organized. I have so many thoughts bouncing around in the different compartments in my brain--the "to-do" compartment, the "already thinking about packing for my next trip" compartment, the ever-present "CHRISTMAS!" compartment--but when I get them on paper, all lined up with the left margin, I feel... organized. Like I won't forget anything. I can look at the things on my list and isolate one to make sure I get it done. Not to mention the happy feeling I get when I cross something off the list. (It doesn't always get that far.)

And I don't just make normal lists, mind you. Grocery lists, to-do lists, those are just the beginning. I have a to-read list, a to-watch list, a to-buy-for-Christmas list, a to-ask-for-for-Christmas list (When did natural peanut butter and muffin cups become so important to me?), a to-do-immediately list, a to-do-sometime-in-the-near-future list, a people-to-visit list, even a packing list for my mom and sister when they come visit me... in seven months. You might say I'm out of control. I say I'm happy that way. :)

Living in this context overseas, I've met a lot of women who have years of overseas living experience, and I've learned a lot from them--from some, how I want to be one day; from others, characteristics that life here has developed in them that I'd like to avoid. So I made--you guessed it--a list. A list of traits I'd like to develop. A list of ways I want to be less like me and more like Him. Spirit-filled. Patient. Gracious. Humble. Forgiving. Warm. Hard-working. Prayerful (Is that a word?). Honest. Gentle. Kind. Loving. Hospitable. Joyful. Filled with His Word. That's just the beginning.

As I was walking the other day, my list came to mind. I thought about how far I have to go. I wasn't necessarily beating myself up, just... thinking. About how much work I needed to do to be able to cross even one thing off the list.

And then something else came to mind. Precious words from The Word.

"And I am sure of this, that He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ*." Phil. 1:6

He began this work in me years ago. And He has continued the work. I'm a completely different person than I was even just a year ago. He started the work, and He will finish it--I've already seen evidence of that. List or no list. :)

"His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of Him who called us to His own glory and excellence..." 2 Peter 1:3



* On an unrelated note, every time I write "Christ", I accidentally write "Christmas." Both are pretty great.

Today is my dad's birthday. Today is bittersweet.

Bitter because he's gone.
Sweet because I get to celebrate his life.

Bitter because I can't be with my family.
Sweet because He gave me precious friends here to make this day special.


Bitter because I miss him.
Sweet because I remember him.


Bitter because he was one of my best friends.
Sweet because... he was one of my best friends.

Bitter because I can't make memories with him anymore.
Sweet because I have so many dear memories of him.

Bitter because my heart hurts.
Sweet because this pain is a temporary one.

Bitter because I'll be apart from him for the rest of my life.
Sweet because I'll be with him for eternity.

Bitter because he's not with me.
Sweet because I know he's with Him.

"For we know that if our earthly house, this tent, is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens... So we are always confident, knowing that while we are at home in the body we are absent from the Lord. For we walk by faith, not by sight. We are confident, yes, well pleased rather to be absent from the body and to be present with the Lord." --2 Cor. 5:1, 6-8

"Julieta?" I call. I knock again. "Julieta? Doma si?" Are you home?

It's not the first time I've waited on the front porch of my friend's home, standing amidst a pile of discarded shoes that seems way too big for the two people that live in the house. Due to medical problems that have prevented her from having children, Julieta doesn't stay at home like the other Roma women. With no children to look after, she spends her days visiting friends and having guests. After a few more knocks, I assume this is the case today. As I turn to leave, I hear movement in the house, a key turning, a door opening, a woman greeting me.

"Abbey!" But it's not Julieta.

"Hajrie! What are you doing here?" I greet my friend, surprised to see her here and glad that I visited her the day before so she doesn't have a reason to scold me. She tells me Julieta went out of town with her husband, so she is staying at their house. Hajrie (High-ree-ay) is going to be away from home for a few days--she and her husband have been fighting again.

We move into the living room, where Hajrie's one-year-old son is taking a nap. I turn down Hajrie's offer of bread. And then Hajrie asks The Question.

"Abbey... Does your organization give out money for food and clothes?"

Outwardly, I sympathetically tell her no. Inwardly, I sigh. It's a question I've come to expect from each of my Roma friends at some point,  and it's a question I dread. I try to look at it from her perspective. If I were in her position and I met an American, wouldn't I ask the same question?

But her question reminds me that I didn't even plan to see her today. I wanted to see Julieta. Why did Hajrie have to answer the door? After all, I see her more than most of my other contacts. She never listens to me when I try to talk about spiritual things. She doesn't want to hear.  And usually, her three older kids are trying to play with me, leaving little opportunity to talk to her at all...

And then I hear the Voice. Like a whisper. Reminding me of my own prayers. Prayers that I would see opportunities to turn conversations to talk about spiritual things, and that I would take those opportunities. Prayers that He would let my Roma friends hear and respond to the Truth. And, even more specifically, that He would give me time with Hajrie alone, without the distraction of her adorable but rowdy children.

I look again at the baby asleep on the couch.

And I know He's given me this opportunity.

"Have I ever told you about when I was little, Hajrie?" I ask her. She shakes her head no. So I tell her my story, about how we didn't have a lot of money when I was young, but God always provided what we needed. "And He still gives me what I need, every day. When I was young, it was daily food. When I moved here all alone, He provided me with friends like you. When my dad died, He gave me peace and faith to know that he's in heaven because of his faith in Jesus." And we proceed to talk about what we both believe will happen when we die. And she really listens.

"So I know I'll see my dad again, but it's not because he was a good person. It's because he had faith in Jesus. He's in heaven now."

"You're sure?" A simple question, and I silently thank God that I have a simple answer.

"Yes. I'm sure."



Pray that I would see more of these opportunities and that I would be bold enough to take them. Pray that I would "make the best use of the time" (Col. 4:5-6). And pray that He would open Hajrie's eyes to see Him.

My Roma sister, Hajrie

August 12 was my first Macedonian birthday.

Naip and Suzana

Yummmmm.

Sveti Naum in Ohrid. See the peacock? They're everywhere there! How cool is that?

Yes, it really is that beautiful.

No one I'd rather be smooshed in a taxi with. :)

Hannah made me some coffee at their coffee shop there, "Ima Vreme."

I was definitely crying here... Jessica got the red plate we use on our birthdays at the Hammond house, and she made one of my mom's recipes. Can you say SWEET?!

Anna dressed as a cloud for my birthday. :)

Cloud cake!

Birthday magic.

I heart Bitola, Macedonia.

Skopje is great. Like everywhere in Macedonia, the people are so nice. Since it's a bigger city, it's easy to find everything you need. (Minus a few essentials, like Rotel and Reese's cups, but that's another story...)

But Bitola! I love it! I went there for the third time last week. This was the longest I've stayed there, and I must say, so far, it's my favorite city in Macedonia.

But enough about the place. More about the people. :)

I was in Bitola last Monday through Saturday because some volunteers came to Macedonia to work with another Christian group. They decided to have a VBS in Bitola, and since they were including Roma and Macedonians, I was able to go to help.

The first three days were spent with children. The first day, we had five. The last day, we had twenty-four! Every day included the same things a VBS in the States would have: opening assembly, singing, Bible story, crafts, and snacks. The kids loved it. They just don't do things like that here.

On that last night, as I watched 24 rambunctious (but still adorable) children running around, I was reminded of Arizona, where I've spent a week of my summer every year for the last 11 years. This was my first year to miss it. In that respect, it was bittersweet... but I knew that God had been using my trips to the Navajo reservation all those years not only to reach them, but also to prepare me for work with the Roma. The two people groups are really similar.

Beautiful mountains in Arizona

Beautiful mountains in Bitola

Adorable Navajo kids

Adorable Roma kids

Baby Navajo mullet

Baby Roma mullet

The last three days were spent doing home visits and having youth events. Brenda, the woman leading the group, had the great idea of having a photo scavenger hunt! The youth really enjoyed it. They also liked playing "The Human Knot."

Scavenger Hunt--Picture with someone wearing traditional Macedonian clothes

Scavenger Hunt--Picture with a "baba" (grandmother)

Scavenger Hunt--Picture in a tree

Scavenger Hunt--Picture with Justin Timberlake

The youth here really don't ever get to be teenagers like we do in the States. They go straight from childhood to adulthood, with really no in-between. I'd love to do more work with Roma youth here in Macedonia. Would you pray that I have the opportunity to?

"We grieve harder because we love harder."

That's what Andy said in the car on the way home from the hospital for the last time. And it's so true. I told Daddy on his last day with us that he was the most loved man on the face of the planet. He really was.

The biggest blessing in all of this is that we have no regrets, and I know my dad didn't, either. In the end, he couldn't speak to us. We didn't get the big, heart-wrenching goodbye they show in the movies. But we didn't need one. Everything he would have said to us, or anything we would have said to him, we've said every day of our lives. I have known every day of my life that my daddy would do anything for me, and he always knew from words and actions that I adored him. We told each other "I love you" ten times a day, at least. He was my favorite man in the world. Twenty-three years wasn't enough time with him, but then, no amount of time would have been enough. I treasure every day I spent with him. And I treasure knowing that he is finally pain-free, and that I'll see him again. He ran the race, and he finished well.

So yes, I grieve hard. I miss everything about my daddy because I love everything about my daddy. His eyes. His voice. His silliness. His wisdom and discernment. His way of nicknaming people. His incredible love for my mom. His way of making friends with anyone he meets. But this grief is different--because I know where he is, and I know Who he's with, and I know I'll see him again. And it's not because he was a good person or did more good things than bad--it's because of the saving blood of Jesus Christ that made a way for him to have peace with God.

I miss him just like I'd miss any of my family members if I knew I probably wouldn't see them for years. But NOT because I'll never see him again. Because I will.

Thank you so much for all your prayers for my dad's healing. Praise God, he's finally been perfectly healed.

Love,
Abbey