We’ve made it to Greece, and it’s difficult to put into words all the things that we have seen in the last 72 hours, but I’m going to give it my best shot.
We arrived in Greece and had a 9 hour layover in the town of Kavala – needless to say the city was everything you could have ever imagined. With our adventurous spirits intact we climbed the cobblestone streets. Soon we found ourselves standing atop the tallest tower of a crumbling, ancient castle and taking in the breathtaking view. White buildings perched among lush green hills with the clear Mediterranean Sea lying underneath.
A few hours later we boarded an overnight ferry headed for the island of Lesvos. When we arrived our hosts were waiting at the port to take us to our home for the month. We walked into our cushy three bedroom apartment and out onto the terrace where we were greeted with the sun rising over the hills of Turkey(which is located directly across the sea from us). Our lives seem to be closer to a dream state than reality.
After a quick rest we hop in a van and head to orientation at the refugee camp we are working in for the month. Little do we know what is about to greet us.
What was once a prison has now been re-purposed into a camp for the most vulnerable.
A bus full of new arrivals pulls in as we file through the gate and past security.
Steel fences with barbed wire perched at the top surround us.
Tarps attached to thin lines are anchored to anything that can bear the weight.
Children fight over empty plastic crates.
Bottle caps, cigarette buds, and empty plastic wrappers litter the rocky path we walk.
Overflowing dumpsters line the side of the hill.
Complete desolation surrounds us.
We are guided through a quick tour of camp and given a brief overview of how things operate. The next thing I know, orange vests are handed to each of us and we begin our first shift at camp.
The second I put on that orange vest I am expected to know all the answers – the reality is that I’ve been at camp for an hour and barely know the layout of where things are. But the refugees don’t see that. All they see is someone who is expected to help them. When a woman frantically waves to get my attention because her child has a fever or a man yanks on my arm to ask me what he should do if he lost his papers all I have to return is a blank stare and the words “I don’t know, but I will find out.” So they sit and wait, it seems they are in a constant state of waiting. Waiting for answers, food, clothing, shelter, the list goes on and on. Sometimes I return with solutions, other times I just have to tell them there is nothing we can do right now. Saying no to someone in desperate need is one of the hardest things I have ever done.
The saddest part of it all is that where I see desolation, so many of them see hope. This camp, riddled with trash and torn tarps stands as a beacon of light to them. They see an opportunity for a new life, away from the torment that once surrounded them.
This month as we serve these people pray that every action we take and every word we speak would bring life to this place. It’s hard work, but we know that our Father has prepared us for all that is to come.
