Elizabeta rushed to catch up with her friends on their way to school. As they entered their classroom, they kissed the framed photograph of the smiling face of the communist dictator they called Uncle Enver. As soon as they had all taken their seats, the teacher led them in a song honoring Enver Hoxha, who he said loved them very much.

Somehow it didn’t feel right to Elizabeta. She searched the faces of her classmates, her dear friends. Did they feel as she did? Did their stomachs tighten when the teacher spoke of the war Uncle Enver was leading? “The war,” the teacher intoned, eyebrows raised, “is against an enemy who comes in to our own homes and deludes our own people, our own family members and closest friends. We must save them from this dangerous enemy, which is known as faith in God.”

Elizabeta gulped, heart pounding. She hoped no one noticed her trembling hands. Her grandfather had been an Orthodox priest. Did that mean they were being watched?

“It is like a contagious disease,” the teacher went on. “It spreads, and soon the superstitious victims believe in something that does not exist. They live in an imaginary world like madmen.” He gave a derisive laugh, and several students joined in the mockery. “If you know of someone who is such a victim, it is your duty to help them and your country by telling someone.”

Am I the only one in the class whose family believes in God? Elizabeta dared not speak about it, even with her closest friends. She thought of a family in her neighborhood that had been accused of practicing Islam. It was whispered that the father had been taken to a prison camp, and the mother and children were sent to an insane asylum far worse than prison.

Nearly 30 years later, Elizabeta was a wife and mother, and the Albanian communist dictatorship was only a painful memory she tried to forget. The national scars ran deep, though. People still found it difficult to trust others. Faith in God was allowed now, but few took it seriously. Now a Seventh-day Adventist Christian, Elizabeta decided to remember and tell her story to the small circle.

It was a mixed group. Some had been through similar things; others had been the mockers. Some had been Orthodox, some Muslim, others atheist. But now they were studying the Bible and worshipping together. We were becoming a true community—a family. I smiled as I thought of how God had foreseen this moment long ago. And I’m thankful He saw past all of our flaws and mistakes and called each of us together to rejoice in His name.

• Twitter