Tough Questions

In Cesis, we live literally a ‘rock’s throw’ away from the entrance to the grounds of a restored castle. The actual building we live in is a house that has been converted into eight small apartments. In the eight apartments there are several older residents and a scattering of other ages. A couple of apartments have at least three generations living there together.

There is only one entrance; no lobby, just a small hall and stairway to the individual doors. As far as outside looks, it is about as uninviting and unimpressive as they come.

Across from our apartment door is an older lady that is nice and was a former organist at the Lutheran Church. Next to us is a lady that has a dog for her companion and he is quite vocal when we walk in front of her door. Diagonally from us are a couple of men that have a bit of an alcohol problem to say the least. I’ll never forget the look on Laura’s face when we stepped out of our door one day and there was one of them passed out on the floor. She looked at me and quietly said “What do I do?” I said “Don’t wake him up!”. Thankfully that only happened once but we always check the door before swinging it open.

Through the thin walls I can often hear the lady next to us as she sings, hums and sometimes even plays the piano. The singing often reminds me of my grandmother who would sing hymns as she worked around her house and garden.

The other lady on our floor seems to be a good cook. On weekends, we can often smell potatoes, chicken and fish being cooked. Most of it smells appetizing but some seems to not agree with our American sense of smell.

The third apartment is a different story. There is a constant smell when we walk by but it is never a pleasant odor. Cigarette smoke, mixed with alcohol, combined with wood stove smoke flows out of an apartment that hasn’t seen a clean floor in long, long time.

We have little contact with most of the people in our building, mainly because not a single one speaks any English. They know we are missionaries, they know we are Americans and they know we are different than them. We have tried to break the ice and it has thawed somewhat, especially since we gave small gifts to each apartment at Christmas. We nod and smile and give a few greetings in our beginning Latvian.

I have formed my impressions of each of them by what I hear (even though I don't know the language), what I see, what I smell and what I perceive their attitude to be.

I wonder what impression they have of me? What does the lady next door hear through her walls? When I come upon the two guys across the hall what type of attitude do I give off? How does my American way of life smell to the others in this building?

Do people know by our lives that we are Christian? We can’t tell them but do they see it? Do we smell like we follow someone different than the world follows? Does our daily voice sing a type of song that would make others want to know the words?

Tough questions.