The Good Times and the Sad Times

Nothing I have ever done before compares to the time I have spent in Jordan. I got to hear so many stories of families before having to leave them. It’s hard to hear about their struggles and become attached to them, only to have to leave them immediately.

I struggled with this from day one when I met with my first family. Thankfully, I got to revisit them later in the week to interview them.

I haven’t even had the privilege of writing about every family I met with. On the first and second day, we met with three families each. All were Iraqi Christians, all had come from the same village, and all had made the same journey to Kurdistan before deciding to leave for Jordan. Each was, however, unique because of their family situation. All had kids, but their ages differed widely. Some had aging parents with health issues, and some had children with health issues. Some of the bread winners in the family had health issues themselves. All of them had fled from the violence of ISIS, and I wanted to do everything for every one of them.

I wanted to get them the needed VISAS, pick them all up, and put them on a flight to a safe country where they could start new lives, but that’s just not how it works. These things take time and patience and I need to have the strength to accept that I don’t know God’s plan for every family. All of them are here for a reason, and all of them (the Iraqi Christians at least) are models of faith in God.

Nothing I have ever dealt with compares with their experiences, yet their faith remains strong. My job in their houses was to bring them food, toys, and hope, and I did, but now that I look back on it, they gave me faith. We as American Christians can look to them for examples of faith. The Iraqi church service was another moving experience. The way they reached out in pray for our team moved me. It made me remember how alive God is here for these people.

In contrast, our next few visit days were with Muslim Syrian refugees. They also had different aged kids and various health issues. Each family is so painfully unique that it makes me want to reach out even more. All of them had fled from the war in Syria. They tell us that people were being beaten in the streets and that fear reigned supreme. Some of them had entered into camps, but had to escape because the conditions were too bad for them and their children.

Incidentally, the only Muslims I met with were women. Out of the four families I visited, only two had living husbands, and the other two husbands were not in the home at the moment. One woman in particular had six kids. She was raising them by herself with little outside support. Of course I want to just swoop in and fix everything. I want to give them a nicer house, and I want the mother to be able to work to earn money to feed her kids. In a perfect world, I also want them to get their VISAS. My dearest wish would be for them to follow Jesus.

It’s hard to see these people in the dark even after traveling so far. They don’t love Allah. They fear him. They pray to him because they fear he will be angry with them if they don’t. This may be the hardest thing of all for me because I want to see them again, even if it’s not until we get to Heaven. But then I remember that this change doesn’t happen overnight. Over time, they may see the love that Christians have for their God and other people and realize that they want to know more about Him.

My visit is only one step in the process of the humanitarian process so I should be content with it. My greatest hope is that my words will get them thinking. Muslims don’t think. They don’t question anything about their faith because if the Quran says it, then must be true. I hope they see the kindness of the Christians reaching out to them and want to know more.

The refugee visits were the reason I came. Any special experience like seeing the Dead Sea and Petra were added bonuses. While they were amazing and unforgettable experiences, the trip would have been complete without them. The trip could not have gone on without the Stephen team.

These men and women are chiefly Iraqi refugees, but some are Syrian. They gave their time to drive us around and translate for our home visits. Rather than just driving and translating for us, they ate meals with us, and became our friends. They were beside us to guide us through anything from ordering food at restaurants to speaking to refugee families.

Now since they are refugees too, I want them to be able to move on to other countries where they and their families can live, work, and go to school. But, like the refugees we visited, I think that God put them here for a purpose. Once again, I hope that we were a blessing to them with our presence, and I hope they know how much we appreciate them, but nothing could compare with the good example they set for us.

It was truly a blessing in every way to become acquainted with them.

That’s why it’s so hard to leave. I don’t want to think about leaving any of these people for good. Then I remember that God works in mysterious ways. He definitely blessed me with letting them into my life, and I have faith that He will bless them in ways they could never imagine.

Even if I never see them again on earth, we will all live our lives for God. Even though the trip was a very good time, it has to end. I’m grateful for the experience, and I’ll never forget it. Now that the sad times have come, it’s all the more important to cling to God and to the good times.

First Step

As some of you may know, I am a broadcast communication major. I’m planning on pursuing a career in reporting the news and interviewing people. I knew what I wanted to do, but I had never actually interviewed anyone on camera before. I had just conducted phone interviews and written down the answers by hand or typed them myself.

When I found out that I would be interviewing a refugee father on camera today, I was a little worried. I had met with this man before and he had already shared his story so I didn’t want to bother him with all the same questions. I had even already written about his family on my blog so I sort of felt bad badgering him for the same painful answers all over again.

So when we got there, I was a little apprehensive. I tried to push the responsibility of interviewing over to Joe so I didn’t have to worry about it. Thankfully he didn’t let me. Elizabeth did an amazing job of setting up the cameras, and Dalya translated everything that I said perfectly. They both were extremely encouraging and I definitely couldn’t have done it without them.

The man was a little shy at first because he had already shared his story. He shifted a little in his seat and wrung his hands together as he recounted his family’s painful journey from Qaraqosh to Kurdistan and finally to Amman. Halfway through we were interrupted by the call to prayer. The raucous noise caused us to pause the interview. In that little break, we all became more relaxed. We continued the interview with much less awkwardness.  His story flowed more freely as he shared about his reasons for leaving and about his faith in God.

At the end, he shook my hand. We finished with some nice closing shots as he happily escorted us out the door. I was surprised how blessed I felt after conducting this simple interview. The man’s smile seemed to reassure me that I was on the right career path.

There is still lots of work to do on the trip and in college in general before I’m ready to embark on my career. For the trip, I have to edit and prepare a short video about the interview, and for college, I have many more years of studying and conducting interviews, but today was a good first step.

Getting There

Up until today I thought Petra was just that one big famous rock carving. I didn’t really know that Petra was a whole trail of carved rock paths and ledges. So today when I arrived at Petra, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was looking forward to seeing the famous stone carving called the treasury, but was surprised to find out that we would have to walk a mile just to reach that, and then walk another mile to get to our lunch destination. I also learned that the treasury was only a fraction of Petra which also includes cave tombs, a long walk down a deep gorge, and a sandy trail that leads to the library and monastery. At the end of the trail, there’s a little place called The Basin restaurant where my group was eating, and lots of little tourist trap vendors and donkey rides.

I started out enthusiastically by climbing all over the stone tombs on either side of the road. It was amazing to feel the wind around me as I ran over the rocks to the next best view. I wanted to stay there forever, but out time was limited, so we moved on.

The next part of the walk was the rock gorge. Seeing the sheer rock walls on wither side can leave one feeling very small. Around every corner I expected to see the treasury, but it seemed to never come. I didn’t care though because instead I got to see something unexpectedly amazing. My expectations had been low compared to the beauty of what I was seeing

The actual treasury is also breathtaking. Words can’t describe the wonder of the untamed stone that had somehow been shaped into something so beautiful. Despite the beauty that was before us, there were still distractions. People milled around, offering to sell jewelry, camel rides, donkey rides, horse carriage rides, postcards, or any other little tourist item. It somehow seemed to detract from the majesty of the sight before me.

By now, it was getting to be time for lunch. We were supposed to be at The Basin restaurant by 1:30 and it was already nearing 1:00. So, refreshed by the treasury, I set off again, hoping to get there early to get a good seat. The actual trek was different than I expected. People on every side badgered us with donkey rides. The ground beneath our feet turned from packed dirt to sinking sand, and The Basin was still nowhere in sight. We  consulted a map to see if we might have missed some path, but we were still on the right track, and the moment of concern gave way to enthusiasm when we saw a sign for the restaurant in the distance.

Now I could go on to tell you how we rode camels and made friends with the ice cream vendors and store proprietors, but instead I want to give you a moral to the story.

 

I’d like to focus on the sandy area just past the treasury. This leg of the journey was probably the hardest for me. I thought we had already reached the destination, but we had to keep walking through the soft sand and consult our directions to see that we were still on the right path. This can be compared to a drought or hard time in our Christian life. We thought everything was perfect, but then more difficulties come. Even the directions seem to fail and we can start to question God. This is when we need to look to God most.

A lot of Christian Iraqi refugees are in this stage. They had good lives back in Iraq with families that they loved. Many we have talked to just got done building their dream home, only for ISIS to burn it down and force them out. They came off their highest of highs and were then crushed to the lowest of lows. What I have found encouraging, is that many of them don’t seem to be losing hope. They’re staying the course and trusting God to lead them to whatever he has planned. It serves as a good reminder for me that God is still in control and will lead us safely through his plan for us.

That’s what is special about these people. They’re still getting there. Nothing is set in stone for them, but they have hope of a better future, and I believe that many of them will get there through God’s grace.

Across the Desert

Why am I using a poorly framed and ugly picture for my featured image? Because it’s a view of Israel, the same view of Israel that Moses had from Mt. Nebo before his death. Climbing Mt. Nebo and looking out across the desert was an amazing. I love the feeling of walking in the footsteps of Biblical figures. Even though I’m actually not going to Israel, I have seen it. I have also had the opportunity to see other Biblical locations.

Another special place we visited today was called The House of Ruth. This is of course not the actual house of Ruth in the Bible, but it is located in Moab where she was originally from. This center helps teach Muslims and Christians alike necessary skills. They do not preach the Gospel so as not to alienate the Muslim participants. Instead, they choose to lead by example. They are truly beacons of light for God even when they are just teaching women to sew or speak English.

We also had the opportunity to visit an Iraqi church. I was astounded at the generosity of the congregation. They gave even when all they had to give were a few coins foraged from the corners of their pockets. I was also moved by their genuine nature. A girl on our team struggles with chronic migraine headaches. After she shared her testimony, the whole congregation expressed a want to pray for her healing. As the pastor’s voice rose and fell powerfully in prayer, I could feel God working. He is here among these people. We come here to pray for them and for their needs, but they are equally willing to step up and call out to God for us. This was an amazing thing which I am grateful to have experienced.

Into the Desert

I love the city of Amman. I really do. It’s loud and fun and full of welcoming people that I want to meet. I’m just not used to the sights, smells, and sounds of real big city life. I have faced difficulty in the city, especially in the packed East Amman where most refugees live. The cigarette contaminated air and car fumes immediately polluted my lungs and gave me headaches. That’s why I was so happy to break away from the city for a day to see a village in the desert.

Each team was tasked with visiting two Muslim Syrian refugee families. The first house we visited consisted of seven people. A mother, her son, her son’s wife, and four children. They left Syria because the Syrian army was starting to attack the people. The army would randomly check people and then take them and beat them. The woman’s son was taken and beaten. Since then, he has had a back problem which prevents him from working. During our visit, he was not there because he was at a doctor getting help for his back. Despite this injury, he and his wife have beautiful children. The youngest girl is only twenty days old.

These people have no income since the woman’s son cannot work and her husband died a year ago. They have been in Jordan for two years, but he died of heart problems in Jordan rather than at the hands of the Syrian army. Since there is no money coming in, they struggle to pay the rent of 65 JD.

While we were there, other women from the village came with their UN papers to ask for help. They do this because they see Americans and think that we are from the UN and come to offer assistance. The children were too young to really communicate with us, and they also didn’t know any English. Even still, it was a blessing to see this Syrian family and offer hope to them.

The second family we visited consisted of a mom, dad, and three little girls. They had traveled from Syria because missiles started to fall near their home. The woman had to leave her sister there in the hurry of escaping. They have been in the Jordanian village for several years now, and have other family members there. They say that they like their neighbors and think it’s a good place to live. Despite this, they want to go back to Syria when the fighting ends.

Another reason they left Syria was because of their middle daughter’s health. The five-year-old has a condition where she can’t walk at all. She is also in pain when she sleeps on one side, and her eyes are also slightly crossed. All of these things are repairable by a surgery which is available in Jordan. The only problem is that it is available for 3,000 JD which is equivalent to 5,000 American dollars. They have not yet been able to afford the surgery, but are still praying and have not given up hope. They would also appreciate the prayers of anyone who reads this. They also only have the hope and prayers of Allah so we should offer prayers to the true God on their behalf. I can only imagine how difficult it would be to see your daughter go through something like this and have no ability to help her.

According to the mother, the two oldest girls had been crying yesterday because they wanted soccer balls. We were able to fulfill their wish by giving each of them one. It is truly an answer to prayer that we arrived.

After the house visits, we arrived at the house of the Sheikh. The leaders of the trip have met him before so the whole group was already on good terms with him. We were welcomed into his home and then segregated. The boys on our team were put in a room with the men and the girls went with the women and children. I had a pleasant time in the room with the Sheik’s family and became acquainted with some of them over the coffee and tea that were brought to us. They were very kind and welcoming women. We were also allowed to hold and carry the two month old baby of the Sheikh’s daughter.

When the Sheikh arrived, the women were invited in for lunch. The lunch was called mansif, a traditional Jordanian meal. This consisted of huge trays of rice and meat, either lamb or chicken. The rice was then drizzled with yogurt sauce. Men would periodically come through and add more yogurt sauce to the mix. The meal was made decidedly more interesting by the fact that most people ate it with the hands, yes, with their hands. In the traditional Bedouin way, groups of people gathered around and picked up both rice and meat with their bare hands. Then, they mashed it into a smaller mouth sized glob and ate the whole handful.

The Sheikh gave a short speech on wanting peace between the all religions. He was also a professor of religion at a university, and he said he wanted all religions to work together to help people, not to kill them and tear them down. He does work for the king of Jordan and holds many important roles. Maybe most relevant to my purposes, he cares for the village of refugees and works with the NGO to provide wheelchairs and food for all of them.

Our day in the desert ended with a visit to a goat farm. Lots of people in the area are goat farmers, but this is a special farm meant to help people start gaining some income. Global Hope, the NGO we are working with, gives people access to goats. These goats provide milk and goat kids for the family. The family gets to keep the kids so they have their own income, but return the goats after two seasons. The goats are then given to another family for the same amount of time to continue the process. This is an example of micro-finance because it helps boosts the people into making their own money.

After looking at the actual farm, it was nice to just walk out into the sand and feel the wind blowing through the desert hills. So while the city is a wonderful place, I felt extremely at home in the desert.

 

And Then Suddenly, Tan Lines

The trip so far has been pretty heavy. There have been days when I was sick and found visiting and interacting with people challenging. There were other days where the weight of the refugees stories rested too heavily on my own shoulders and caused sadness and fatigue. While playing with the refugee children is wonderful, there’s always the looming shadow of their family’s desperate situation and painful past. That’s what made a day of rest even sweeter.

We took a little trip over to the Dead Sea. The salinity in the water is so high that we floated. A lot of people said that we would float on the water like a cork. While I believed them, I didn’t understand what the sensation would really feel like until entering the water. The second my feet left the rocky bottom, I just sort of floated up. When I shoved my feet back at the water, the bottom seemed nowhere to be found. It was just me floating rather aimlessly. Imagine you’re floating on your back and treading water normally, but that’s all your can do. You can’t go under because the salinity holds you up.

Another thing about the Dead Sea, you can barely put your face under because your body is so buoyant. Yet another thing, you don’t want to. The salt will sear your eyes if you so much as splash them. Putting your whole head under would be the equivalent of sticking coals in your eyes. Unlike the coals, there will be no permanent damage, but the pain remains the same.

So what else is there at the dead sea? Mud.

The mud is known for its benefits. The water there is rich with minerals and is good for the skin. So good, that people rub it all over their bodies and faces. I am now one of those lucky people. There are also massive salt deposits along the sides of the sea. This manifests in huge underwater salt shelves, and smaller salt chunks. The whole sea is amazing.

After swimming and eating, I finally got to sit down and get some sun for the first time this year. My legs and arms actually have tan lines this early in the summer which is a miracle in and of itself. Now that we’ve had a day of rest, I think the entire team is ready to finish the week strong and be a blessing to some refugees before heading home.

From the Citadel to the Streets

Today was a down day for the team.

Everyone has been so busy with refugee families that it was nice to have a break and relax. One of the most prominent features of our day was a trip to the Citadel. The featured picture of me was taken from the top of these ancient ruins that overlook Amman.

This location may be where Uriah the Hittite was sent into battle by David because David wanted him to die so he could marry Bathsheba. This murder caused David great suffering in the Bible, so it’s mind blowing to be able to tread the ruins myself. It’s amazing to experience history first hand.

After returning from the Citadel and eating dinner, the group took a little walk to get dessert. The street was lit spectacularly as the people prepare for Ramadan. Bright string lights stretched across the street and twined down the palm trees. The city is always beautiful, but seeing it at night with the lights makes it seem almost etherial.

While on the street waiting for out dessert, some of the other girls and I waved and smiled at a mother with her two young daughters. To our surprise, the woman came over and grabbed my hair. She said something along the lines of “pretty” and then let her daughters touch it as well. We had a brief conversation with her and discovered that she was from Palestine. It’s phenomenal to have the opportunity interact with people in this way. Even though I have seen many things here, I will not forget this woman and her daughters because of our simple conversation on the street.

Hello to Goodbye

I cried in Jordan for the first time today.

I cried because I was saying goodbye to the sweetest Syrian children.

Nobody noticed my repressed tears this morning, but I want everyone to know that my heart still bleeds for them and cries to see them again.

These refugees had a slightly different story than the ones I interviewed previously. They had fled Syria and spent days in the desert. This was extremely hard on the six children. I remember the oldest girl whispering bashfully to her mother to tell the translator that there were no bathrooms in the desert.

The mom led her children in this trip on her own. The father was killed in a war so she alone is left. She does, however, have the help of her neighbors. The neighbor children were at the house when we arrived. It was impossible to tell who actually belonged to the family because they played so seamlessly together. In the middle of the visit, a sleeping baby was brought in, carrier and all. I didn’t understand until later that it was the neighbor’s baby who had simply been brought over for a visit.

The children just oozed sweetness. At first, they were quiet and didn’t speak to us except to introduce themselves and shake our hands. Then, Maddie gave them toys, I showed them how to use a bubble wand, and all the walls broke down. The quiet children became joyous and open.

They expressed their joy by numerous kisses and hugs. While they spoke very little English, they still knew enough to say, “I love you,” which they said to us many times. The oldest girl clung to me and kissed my cheek respectively. Amazingly enough, she knew how to spell “love” in English which she wrote on my hand along with the first letter of my name She followed me outside where I taught her how a Frisbee worked. I also picked all the kids up and spun them around. They loved it because they had probably never experienced anything like it before.

Chaos ensued when I took my hair down. While I’m sure they had seen long hair before, they may never have seen it in this color. They delighted in braiding and brushing and tangling my hair to no end. Even though it was a logistical nightmare to fix my hair, seeing such joy on their faces was a blessing.

If saying hello was a joy, then saying goodbye was heart shattering.

The little girl clung to me and wouldn’t let go, using what little English she knew to tell me to stay. The featured image is the girl and two of her brothers waving goodbye from the top of the steep steps to their apartment.

I will never forget them and I hope they always remember me.

Faces and Souls

I wish to show you the true faces and souls of these people. ISIS burned their home and made their old home unsafe so they traveled to Kurdistan. There, they faced terrible living conditions for their eight children. They left and traveled to Amman where they found a flat and are awaiting news about when they can travel to a place like Australia where they will finally be allowed to work, live, and send their children to school in peace.

Their story is similar to that of all the refugees I have visited, but these dear people had characteristics that set them apart, and made their story unique. That is why I want to look at their faces and souls. Every one of them is strong, and all refugees have unique situations and stories, but I can only hope to share a fraction of them. So please, even as you read this, remember that for every shared story, there are countless untold stories.

The first thing I noticed about them was their peace. They live in a small flat with eight children, four boys and four girls. Chaos doubtlessly reigns on some days, but the parents seem serene and kind. They welcomed us with kisses and firm handshakes.

The next hospitable gesture was the serving of Turkish coffee. It was brewed by the oldest daughter who is pictured above holding her youngest brother. She is eighteen like me, and he is not yet two. She is quite good at speaking English which she learned back in school before she was forced to desert her education and flee. She is, however, bashful about her ability. We were able to speak with her and watch her open up to us. She started the visit with her head down and her hands folded in her lap. As she grew more comfortable, she looked up and smiled. This smile is a sign. A sign that although these people have been through unspeakable horrors, there is still hope.

In the featured photo, she is laughing at at the antics of her youngest brother. What antics you ask?  Well it’s easy to look at the image and think that the young one is chewing on a cookie. On closer examination, you will see that it’s actually the lens cap of a Canon camera.

When we arrived at the house, the little guy was sitting on his mom’s lap. He would occasionally coo or reach over to touch his father’s burly arm, but then he became interested in the strangers in his house. His mom carried him over to the couch and set him between Claire and I. After looking around in wonder at his new position, he immediately snatched the cap. At first, I held the chubby hands bearing the cap away from his mouth, but it was a losing battle. Eventually, he stuck it right in his mouth and gnawed away.

Over the course of the visit, he moved from person to person. After receiving the cap, he moved over to his sister where the picture was taken. He then drifted back to the spot between Claire and I where he promptly thrust the lens cap into my cup of coffee. Over time, he ended up on the floor where he and I engaged in a spirited game of roll the soccer ball back and forth.

This game gave way to a bubble wand and coloring book with crayons. The bubble wand, bubble substance and all, went speedily to the mouth. The coloring book immediately suffered the loss of a cover and had to be confiscated. The crayons were yet another object that went straight to the mouth and had to be forcibly removed.

Despite the many chewing incidents, this little boy seems as healthy as any baby could be. He crawls, laughs, and plays like any other baby. His face even seems to radiate a type of pure, innocent joy. Unlike most babies, however, he had an illness which caused him to lose sight in one eye. It also hurt his legs and would hinder his ability to walk.

This shocked everyone in the group because he seemed perfectly healthy. In this situation, the parents probably feel the pain most acutely. They, however, are a beacon of hope and light for all they touch because of their trust in God.

They welcomed us when they had nothing.

He brought them through their son’s illness.

He carried them through the long trek from Kurdistan.

He never fails.

They will trust Him.

When we look at their faces, look beyond the smile or frown. These people are no different than us. We all have souls. We need to take the time to hear their stories and understand their situation.

So when you look in their eyes that once held such fear, see that there is now hope.

 

 

Emotions

Hope. Fear.

These emotions categorize the first visits I had with refugee families.

The first apartment was small. Despite its size, it housed four children and three adults. They had fled Iraq after their village was bombed by ISIS. they hadn’t wanted to leave. The father had been a successful restaurant owner. The grandmother had wanted to stay in the land she loved. They left because the victims of the street bombing had been children, two boys and one girl. Their fear was that this would happen to their children, three boys and one girl.

The mother also gave birth to another girl, but she was given away to the father’s brother because he had no children of his own. The mother still grieves for her lost child, as she grieves for her homeland.

The entire village left after the bombing. It was located in the Nineveh valley where nearly 95 percent of the people were Christians. Now that ISIS has driven all the Christians out, nearly 95 percent are Muslims. The Iraqi Christian families we spoke with bore the brunt of the ISIS attacks.

After leaving the village, they spent time at a church. They slept in the backyard of the church with no bathroom or showers. They were then moved to a large room filled with 60 other refugee families who would fight for the best spots in the room. This was a trying experience to go through with a young child because the other families in the room would complain if any crying occurred. All the families were moved out until only my subjects were left. They had the entire room to themselves.

They were finally moved to a house in Amman where we visited them today. It’s not their final destination, but they know that they will not go back to Iraq. They’re hoping to be admitted to Australia where they can live in safety.

The parents are not necessarily looking for this safety for themselves. They’re looking for a brighter future for their children. That’s what they think of while they wait in anticipation, a world where their children don’t have to be afraid, a world where they can go to school and have equal opportunities.

Today, we had the opportunity to give the kids a soccer ball. They immediately started playing with it. They rolled it back and forth across the room, and then bounced and threw it, giggling as they played. They were unselfish in their game, letting us join in on the fun.

I hope this family reaches the ultimate safety of Australia. For now, however, they can only hope.

The second refugee apartment was slightly larger. It was inhabited by a woman with her two children and her mother-in-law. Her husband was still in Iraq so he could work. Since her husband is not present, she is forced to take all the responsibility in her home. This includes caring for her daughter, son, and aging mother with cancer. She is overwhelmed.

She wants to cry, but she cannot cry in front of her children. She cannot tax her mother with her tears. So instead she laughs. She laughs because there is nothing else to do. The UN will not allow her to take her husband’s mother to a place where she can receive treatment. She will not be allowed to visit her own mother in Canada even after she has had four strokes. She can only wait, so instead she laughs.

She is afraid because her future is uncertain, but also because her past is painful. She was not displaced by Isis. Instead, her door was broken down by an anti-ISIS “army.” They said that if her husband did not join them, they would kill him and hurt his family. This prompted their evacuation of Iraq.

This is why she is afraid of her past, and fears what the future will bring.