The day started at 9:30 am down on Gravois. My anxiety began to rise in that room filled with people, but sweet Jesus knew what he was doing. Oasis International Ministries cares for refugees in St. Louis, and this morning we had the opportunity to bring Christmas gifts to families from the Middle East and Africa. There are six people on our team, and we pile into two cars and go on our way.
First we visited two families from Afghanistan, one with three children and the other with nine. They lived in the same building, one apartment above the other. The father invited us inside, and a boy around five greeted us at the door, shaking each of our hands without saying a word. His family has been in America for five months; his cousins, the family upstairs, has been here for two. We came in and sat down, the little boy sat on the floor in anticipation. He immediately began to open the gifts we brought, not stopping to ask his father if it was okay, or if the present was even his. The board game Trouble was his present, and he ripped the box open and used his teeth to open up the bag of pieces. It didn’t seem to matter what the game was, he just wanted to open it up as quickly as possible. His little sister looks tired, her hair sticking out at every angle and her eyes heavy. She hasn’t touched her gift, even after watching her brother tear into his own.
Eventually, their dad has to go, but he sends down his nephew to watch them while we are there. He speaks great English, especially since he has been in the US for only a few months. We are served some delicious tea and cookies, and then a family friend comes downstairs to see who has come over. She doesn’t seem happy that we are there, and somehow she knows that we are Christians. She let us know that we are not welcome to spend time with the children upstairs, and she doesn’t want anything to do with us. The air was heavy when she entered the room, and I felt so much tension in her voice. I don’t know, this moment is still weighing on my heart and it’s still processing. After a while, little sister opens her gift, and then her brother puts everything away in the closet and we say goodbye.
Our next and last stop is to a sweet woman from Liberia. We brought blankets for her and her daughter, and then just sat with her for a while. She loves dancing and music, but won’t dance or sing for us! We watched a show about a cruise ship, and asked her about her life. I got to sit next to her and laugh with her, doing my best to understand her English through her accent. For some reason, she asked us how old we were. When I told her I was 22, she looked at me and said, “You call me Mama. You are my daughter.” She then proceeded to tell everyone else to call her mama, too, and so we did. Thinking about our visit with her makes me smile; there is such a difference between this home and the one before, the air feels lighter. I would have stayed there all day with her if she let me, but after an hour or so, the group decided it was time to go. (I forgot to mention that there was a man singing outside the window the entire time, it was the sweetest thing!) Anyway, the time we spent with Mama was the happiest I had been all week, thank you sweet Jesus for the joy you bring and the way you care for your kids.
