A tiny community center is tucked into the back streets of Mytilene, the main city on the island of Lesvos, Greece. Most people walking past would never notice it, but for those invited in, it is a shelter, a safe haven, a place of refuge and relief.
The first day I served at the community center, I went on a walk with Grace, the community center’s director, hoping to find young refugee families to welcome in. It was wintertime in Greece and the howling winds and cold rains made it less than desirable for refugees to wait outside before boarding their evening ferry to Athens.
Grace and I saw a family of seven walking slowly through the city, sometimes going into hotels and coming out shortly after. They were clearly looking for shelter. We quickly caught up with them and invited them to spend the day at the community center. As we walked with them, I started up a conversation with the mother of the family, the only one who spoke conversational English.
She told me her long Arabic name but then said with a smile, “You can call me Farah.”
Farah is beautiful, confident, and very kind. She is 25, just two years older than me. Unlike me, she got married when she was 14 and had her first of five children a year later. She grew up in Morocco, but later moved when she married her Syrian husband. Eleven years ago she left her parents in Morocco and today she is fleeing her home in Syria. Despite her circumstances, Farah is a joyful woman whose face bears no bitterness. She speaks only of her gratefulness to be journeying towards a safer tomorrow for her family.
Farah and her family are well-educated and my guess is they are upper-middle class in their home country. The first time they attempted to travel from Turkey to Greece, the Turkish coast guard turned around their little rubber boat. They tried a second time, but were sent back again. This happened ten times before they successfully made it across the sea to Greece. Each time Farah’s family was sent back it cost them a great deal of time and money.
Farah had been through a lot when I met her, having arrived in Greece just hours before. During the boat crossing, Farah sat next to an older woman who was very sick. She described the loud cries for help escaping from the older woman until it became too much for the dear woman to bear. Farah held this woman in her lap as she died from her sickness–never to see Turkey from the other side of the sea.
In the first moments I had spent with Farah, I could tell she was a woman made of bravery, generosity, and optimism. She and I became fast friends during the brief time her family spent at the community center. That afternoon was rich. It was chock-full of dancing, coloring with her children, sharing photos with one another, talking about romance, and laughing about the silliest of things.
Near the end of the day, an opportunity arose for me to share about Jesus. As a Muslim, she knows the name of Jesus, but she does not know him the way I do. I gave her a bible written in Arabic and explained it is the book of my faith. I told her I hoped she would read it and learn more about about my Savior, Jesus.
Before leaving for the ferry, we exchanged our contact information. She showered me with hugs and kisses, saying again and again how much she loves me and calling me her “new best friend.”
I did not want to say goodbye to Farah, yet I knew it would be better for her family to continue traveling. Throughout the two weeks that followed, I worried they would face troubles at the transition points. I have heard enough stories of failure to know the journey is not an easy one.
A few days after returning to the States, Farah contacted me through Facebook. She sent me selfies of her and her daughters–they made it! In just a few weeks they were able to make it problem-free through the transitions points. They have a new place to call “home” in a small, quaint town in Germany. They are one of the very lucky families to have made it so quickly and safely to Germany. Not all are as fortunate as Farah.
Farah invited me to Germany and assured me I could visit her parents in Morocco anytime. Her gratitude and generosity has not wavered despite all she has been through. It would be a dream come true to visit both Farah’s new home and her old one in Morocco. Until then, I will continue to miss my “new best friend” and pray that soon I will be able to call her my “new sister” too.
My time in Greece has changed me. It was the highlight of my time spent in the Fellowship. My time in the Fellowship has come to a close and now I am onto the next season. I still have $500 to raise in order to be fully funded for the Fellowship. It would be a huge blessing to have your support in anyway. Thank you for being in my corner throughout the last year and a half I’ve been with Adventures in Missions.
