Last summer, Melanie Stoll (father Wade of Stoll’s Taxidermy; mother Rosetta of The Wild Whisk) began her quest to go on an 11-month trek with The World Race, a missionary organization based in Atlanta. After earning the more than $17,000 she needed to provide pay for travel, lodging and food, this North Carolina transplant left Wyoming and the U.S. on quite an adventure.
You may read her blog at melaniestoll.theworldrace.org if you’d like to follow along and look at photos she has posted there. For those who don’t have access to the Internet, below are excerpts of what she has blogged so far. Once the column is caught up on the dated submissions, her blog will be run here as they come in so anyone who is interested can keep up with the young lady’s adventure.
This is part two of an ongoing series chronicling Stoll’s travels.
Oct. 26 – Serbia A Herd of Goats
I love livestock, be it goats, pigs, cows, or horses. I love it all and being out in the country in general. A few days ago, I was feeling homesick, or maybe the city life was just starting to get to me a little. I was really praying to see something or get connected with something agriculture-related. It’s a big change not to wake up to loud goats or animals of any kind except for the stray dogs and cats that run around here.
We had an adventure day with nothing planned, so a teammate and I decided to take a 30-minute walk to the edge of town to check out the local river, aka canal. We came to a little road off of the main highway and decided to check it out. Lo and behold, what do we see? Goats. A small herd of about 12 scrawny milk goats and babies. Praise. This made me so excited.
I’m looking at these goats and the goat herder is watching us from under a tree way off in the distance. His two guard dogs are eyeing us down like we’re candy. He waves at us to come over so we walk up and try to start a conversation. He can’t speak a lick of English, so I tried to explain the best way I could how much I love animals. This explanation consisted of mooing like a cow and maybe trying out some goat noises while smiling like a maniac and pointing at his herd. He must have been really interested to know what the weird Americans where trying to say and called his son to interpret via cell phone. The son spoke awesome English and through the revolving phone conversation, the man with the goats invited us back to his house for coffee the next week and the son told us he would be present to be an interpreter.
Three of us met the family at a small, quaint, farm house in the country. The same two dogs met us in the drive, this time with wagging tails. The goat herder and his son welcomed us into their home with big smiles. Through the entry way and behind a curtain, we entered into a large open room that worked as a kitchen, dining and living room. The smell of smoke filled the air mixed with the aroma of freshly baked bread. Behind the kitchen counter, the goat herder’s wife greeted us with a sweet smile and offered us cappuccino made with goats’ milk and let us taste homemade cheese also made out of goats’ milk – both were the best I’ve tasted since hitting Europe. We sat around the dining table and had a great multi-language conversation.
The old man, through his son, explained to us how, years ago, they had moved from Bosnia to Serbia to get away from the war. Raising goats and having a small farm was beneficial because it gave them the basic things they needed during their first years in Serbia (milk, cheese, meat). Among other things, the son told us he had spent his early years traveling all over Serbia, settled in Sombor, and that he was currently an English teacher for the Cambridge test. We asked if they were Christians or went to church and they claimed Orthodox, which is what the majority of people in Serbia are. When it was time to say goodbye, the wife handed us a loaf of warm, beautiful cinnamon bread. It smelled amazing and tasted even better. They invited us to bring the whole team back sometime for a real Serbian meal.
The son drove us home and explained to us that his father waved us over because he thought we were scared to walk by the goats. He was delighted we talked to him, especially being Americans, it was a real treat for him.
The real point to this story was to say how cool it is that the Lord knows exactly what type of pick me ups we need when we feel down. In this example, it happened to be a bunch of goats which led to a few new friendships.
Nov. 1 – Serbia See Ya Later, Alligator
The first month of the world race in Serbia is over. All the good byes to my new friends were harder than I had planned. The thought that I probably won’t see these people again till the good Lord calls us up makes me really sad but I wouldn’t change meeting them for the world. I hope I have blessed their lives as much as they have blessed mine.
We visited Budapest one adventure day and got to meet up with Jen Kelly, a missionary from my home church in Wheatland. It was so good to see someone from Wyoming.
It was a good month of friendships and we saw hearts and minds slowly being opened to hearing the gospel. There is a fog over Sombor, spiritually, as traditional religion rules the people. I continue to pray that walls will keep on crumbling and that faith, even if its the size of a mustard seed, have been planted in some lives.
Thanks for following me through Serbia.
