I run out of the cafe and turn towards the small port. First responders were already on scene and medics are arriving.
It’s much calmer than I expected, but I suppose that’s because the approaching boat is nicer than most; it’s wooden, and the bow offers a little more protection from the wind and waves.
“There are only about 15 people on this one,” I hear someone say. It’s a nice day — the temperature is in the low 50’s, it’s sunny, and there is no wind, so the price for the ride across is much higher than the normal 1,000 euro that it costs, I’m told.
As the boat got closer, I pull out my phone to snap a few pictures. First responders start to lift people out, one by one, making sure they don’t get wet in the process. As people gather on shore, I put my phone away and start looking for someone to welcome, someone to talk to.
Then I see her.
“She can’t be older than 16,” I think to myself. She had on a white hijab and a green, puffy jacket with a fur lined hood that she has pulled over her face to hide the fact that she’s crying. Someone leads her to a ledge a little further from shore and she sits down with her head pointed towards the ground.
I walk over to her and kneel down so that my face is looking up at hers. I take her freezing cold hands in mine and hold them, rubbing them to try to warm them up. I smile at her and say, “I’m really glad you’re here. Welcome.”
As soon as she makes eye contact with me, I loose it.
Tears are streaming down both of our faces as we smile at each other and giggle in between sniffles.
“I’m so glad you made it here safe,” I manage to say, telling myself to pull it together and stop crying.
“Thank you,” she whispers softly, with much less of an accent than I expected.
An older woman comes over and puts her hand on the girls shoulder. She tells me she’s her mother, although I didn’t need that explanation; they look identical. I ask the girl what her name is and she says Sara, to which I tell her my sister is also named that. I tell her my name and ask her how old she is. 15.
Sara is from Syria and has 5 sisters. She’s there with only her mother. I don’t get the chance to find out where the rest of her family is.
Soon, the volunteers tell us the refugees need to leave the shore and go to the nearby camp. They are led away as I turn around to find the group I came with.
A few minutes later, I see them about to exit the port, and in a split minute decision, run up to them to tell them goodbye. Their smiles lit up their faces. I give them big hugs and tell them I was so glad to meet them.
I’ll never get to see them again or find out the rest of their story.
____
I have found myself at the end of many days here wishing I could do more. Wishing I could talk to more families, play with more kids, love more people.
There is always more I could do.
But I’m also learning how much big of an impact the small things can have.
On Wednesday, I got the chance to pray for two men. I don’t know who they thought the prayer was to, but I prayed for them to know the God of the universe and for His love and provision to shower over them.
On Monday, I was able to talk to a 19 year old girl and her mother while they waited to get on the ferry. They didn’t understand much English, but I was able to make them “ooohh” and “ahhhh” and giggle as I showed them pictures of my boyfriend and I.
On Thursday, I sat next to a mother and her baby, who couldn’t have been more than 6 months old. The babies eyes were fixed on me and I smiled and stroked his little hand, silently praying that he would know the God who created him.
On Friday, I got to tell a Greek worker about God and explain what it is that I do — something that clearly confused him, as He didn’t understand why anyone would raise money and not get paid to volunteer.
I could choose to sit here and wish more had happened these past 2 weeks — that I could do more, or I could be thankful for what God has done and what he is doing that I can’t yet see.
Before this trip, I prayed for lives to be changed. I prayed for divine interventions. I prayed for spiritual gifts to be used and strengthened. I prayed for God to draw me closer to Him.
Those prayers have been answered.
I serve a God who knows the answers to my questions, sees the bigger picture, and ultimately works things out better than I ever could. He knew this would happen; He isn’t surprised by the refugee crisis.
These past two weeks, He has done exactly what needed to be accomplished, and I am thankful He chose to use me exactly how He did.
I’m thankful I got to pray for that small baby and those 2 men. I’m thankful I got to encourage a young Greek guy. I’m thankful I got to meet Sara and her mother.
I’m thankful for small encounters and big impacts.
