Here on the island of Lesvos, there is a place tucked away in the mountains overlooking the sea between Greece and Turkey. It’s a place riddled with loss, gain, fear, hope, struggle, and victory.
It’s called the Lifejacket Graveyard.
There are more than 500,000 lifejackets here. Anything washed up onshore as the refugees make their way to the island is brought here. They leave it here at a monument to the people who have fled their homes in search of something safe, something better.
500,000 humans.
500,000 stories.
Did they make it? Did they survive the trek across the sea? Were they deported? Were they granted asylum? Are they safe now? Are they here, right now?
Have I served one of them?
Just a few of the questions that race through your mind as you look around.
So many of my squadmates were somber as we walked through, and it is sobering. But I can’t also help but feel the spirit of hope there. These people have laid everything on the line for life. They left their homes, jobs, families, friends, comforts, everything. They took a risk, and had no idea what they would really face.
Here at the camp, many of the refugees have more hope than we do. We only see this part of their lives. But then you hear statements in conversation.
“All my friends at home are dead.”
“My home is gone, it’s been bombed.”
As devastating as this place is, somehow this is better for them.
As I stood there, looking at all these beautiful markers, I couldn’t help but stand in awe of God. The Almighty knows each and everyone of these lifejacket bearers intimately. He is so big, so vast.
Even in all this sadness, the desperation, HE is GOOD. And He takes care of His people.
