SOUL ENCOUNTER

Last night the Holy Spirit" Restored my soul". It happened quietly; no mighty, rushing wind; no ecstatic utterances; no visions; just a calm reassurance of an unexplainable presence. I was reflecting, momentarily, on the 23rd Psalm and those particular words: "He restores my soul".

How often have I read those words without any expectation that it would actually happen in such a way as this. Like a cool refreshing rain after a long dry spell; that soft, pleasant breeze in the evening after a long day's work in the hot sun, so was this experience of restoration. The entire episode only lasted a few seconds and I was startled by it but yet, there was not doubt about what happened. My soul was restored.

Well, so what? What difference will this experience make over the long haul? All I know is that I had an encounter such as I have never had before and I have a more vital sensitivity to God' presence. But, how will all this affect my day-to-day living? Will this change the way I deal with difficult relationships? Will I be more patient in those times of frustration? Will This event allow me to be more peaceful in times of anxiety? For me, the answers to these questions will be the confirmation, the authentication of the Holy Spirit's work of restoration--- a work still in progress.

The Dictionary

Agim & I visiting with Mejzin at his home

I had spoken with Lek by phone on several occasions since the death of his sister three months earlier, but his schedule and mine had precluded a face-to-face visit until the other day. The anticipated 30-minute lunch-break concluded an hour and a half later when his colleagues called wondering when Lek would return to work (no harm done - Lek had put in many extra hours at the office voluntarily).

When we first met Lek and his family in 1998, his sister, Rena, had given me a dictionary of the Albanian language. Both Rena and her father, Mejzin, had written brief notes on the flyleaf, signifying that this volume was a gift of friendship. I had used the dictionary on numerous occasions in the process of continuing language study and had guarded it as we moved from place to place over the course of our almost ten-year residency in Macedonia.

When we received the news that Rena had died, I immediately thought of the dictionary that she had given to me. It was, in fact, the only thing she had of any value, at the time, which she considered appropriate to present to me as a gift. When I looked at the flyleaf again, I remembered the expression on Rena’s face when she gave me the book. She was all smiles. It was one of the few occasions, as her parents shared later, that Rena did have a genuine sense of joy and a smile on her face.

As I reflected on that experience, I wondered what would happen if I offered to return the dictionary to her family as a memorial to Rena. When we made our visit with Rena’s parents, following her burial, I was hesitant, but found the courage to make the offer of returning the dictionary. Mejzin and Zijavere couldn’t speak for the tears that flowed. After they recovered and were able to utter a few words, they said that they would be honored to have the book back again, and that it would be a treasured keepsake for them.

When I was finally able to meet Lek during his lunch-break, I also invited our dear mutual friend, Agim Iseni. (One can take such liberties when a strong, trust relationship has been established). Neither Lek nor Agim knew that I had the dictionary with me. It was my intention to have Lek and Agim collaborate with me in writing a fitting memorial message on that same flyleaf where Rena and Mejzin had written their notes.

Lek had not seen the dictionary in eight years, but when he saw the words Rena had written on the inside cover, he recalled the occasion when she had given it to me. Agim had never seen the book at all, but then realized that this was the special teasue that I had promised to return to Mejzin and Zijavere. Agim and his wife, Habibe, had gone with us to visit the family after Rena’s death, and so he was present when I had made the commitment to return the book to the family.

Collaborating on the message was an extraordinary moment for the three of us. I spoke in English to Lek, who then translated the message into Albanian, while Agim did the writing. The note read, “We remember Rena with tenderness of heart and with gratitude to God. This book was given as a gesture of friendship, and it is being retuned as a memorial to Rena and as a bond of our continuing relationship.”

What happens when people open themselves up to being enfolded by God’s love? My observation is that in the lives of these families what began as a spark is being ignited into a flame.