(Written 9/21/18)
Tuesday was an incredible day. We met some local friends for breakfast (traditional mint tea, carrot juice and harcha (a type of semolina bread) with honey and butter– YUM) and spent time with them at the beach. We then baked cookies to give away later, cleaned up our apartment a little, went to our online Bible study, then we packed up some dinner and headed for the park! We shared food with each other and some “old” friends at the park, we listened to worship music and watercolor with even more friends, and met some NEW friends! We finally wrapped up the night with a quick trip to our local Supermarché… or so I thought.
On our way back to our place, as we approached an intersection I saw a woman sitting on the ground, against a concrete wall, with what, from a distance, looked like bundles of various belongings. This was not too unusual, so I didn’t think much of it. As we came to the crosswalk, we paused for a moment waiting for a gap in the busy traffic. I turned my head and there she was, only this time I could clearly see that the “bundles” that were next to her were not just any belongings. She held a tiny baby in her arms and there were two little girls laying on the ground by her side. That moment, I felt like I needed to stop. But was it just me? I asked God if I needed to stop, and if he had something for her. “Yes”.
There was the gap in the traffic and instinctively we went for it! My eyes met hers as we moved quickly to walk through it. I smiled and bowed my head a little, hoping to at least make her feel acknowleged. We continued walking down the tramway toward home. As we walked, almost like a voice, I heard the question “What are you here for?” It’s hard to explain because in a place like this (or any place at that), there is so much poverty and pain. It’s a heartbreaking realization that you just can’t stop and help every person in need. But as I reflect now, my mind is finally catching up to what my spirit knew in that moment. “The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners…” (Isaiah 61:1)
I couldn’t think. All my mind could see was her sitting there, waiting for a touch or a word from God. With every quick step we took I felt more and more convicted that I was supposed to stop. We were already a couple minutes walk away and I felt so uncomfortable, but I couldn’t ignore this. “Ok… guys, can someone go back with me?” Everyone stopped and turned. I almost didn’t want to look at their faces. They had been literally mid-sentence when I interrupted them with this unexpected, inconvenient and delayed request. But without any questions asked, Alyssa said “Sure, I’ll go.” We parted ways with the others, and Eric followed just behind us. As we were retracing our steps, Alyssa asked if there was something specific I felt the Lord leading me to do for this woman. I gave the honest answer of “No… just to pray.” She said “Ok.” And we walked.
We crossed the crosswalk again and there she was… and there we were. I had no idea what to do or what to say. Alyssa said hello and asked if she spoke English. Negative. “Hmm… ok, Lord. What do you want me to do? Say? Annny direction would be super helpful.” I heard nothing. Just that same image in my head and assurance that we really were supposed to be there.
Those few short moments felt like hours as we sat crouched in front of her just waiting for some kind of direction. Again, Alyssa asked “Are you getting anything [from the Holy Spirit]?” Again I answered honestly… “I have nothing.”
Eric asked if I would like to use the translator on his phone and I hesitated because I didn’t even know what to say, but I took the phone anyway. I sat there staring at the screen for a moment. “Do you want to ask if she needs a place to stay? I don’t know if the others would be okay with that or not but–” Eric didn’t even need to finish his sentence. I typed out the words “Do you need a place to stay?” and showed it to her. She didn’t read Arabic, so we played the audio translation. I think she understood some, but she started motioning and miming things in response, that I could not interpret. There was definitely a mutual understanding of “I REALLY want to understand you!” but man… it was hard. Arabic isn’t a language where you can really grasp little bits and pieces if you are not fairly familiar with it.
By now the little girls that had been laying by her side were sitting up on their elbows watching intently. They couldn’t have been older than 3 years and were the most precious little ones you could imagine with their frizzy curls tied up in ponytails and bright, wide eyes, staring at these strangers talking with their mother.
All of a sudden Alyssa had an interpretation. She spoke as if she understood every word the woman had said. I honestly don’t know if it was just from the Lord, if she had just studied the woman’s gestures carefully, or a combination of both. The woman started letting her emotions come through. As she wept, I had a million things racing through my mind. “What do we need to do? Are we bringing this woman and her children home? Finding a hotel for them for the night? Do we need to just pray for them? How can I comfort her? Why is she even out here?” The woman began to pull out paper after paper from her bag. I used the light from Eric’s phone to illuminate the documents that Alyssa now held in her hand… they were all in Arabic. A feeling of desperation continued to grow in me as I waited for something– anything! An idea, a prompting, a prayer.
She laid down a picture before us as she communicated by gesture that there were 6 in her family, though we had only accounted for five assuming she had a husband. The picture was of a young man. This was her son, and the sixth member of her family. Suddenly I remembered that the wall she leaned against was the outer wall of a building which we had just learned the day before was some kind of judicial court. Her story was starting to make more sense. My heart broke for this mother as I realized she was missing her son. He was in there. I don’t know why, when or how he came to be there. Typically those are questions I might think to ask, but in that moment they didn’t matter, although I’m pretty sure she was trying to tell us those things. We tried to use the conversation feature on Google translate but because of the complexity and diversity of the Arabic language, it is very difficult to translate. We were only able to pick up a few things to help us understand a little about what might have happened with her son. I gathered that he had been caught up in something, maybe he was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, I don’t know.
After a moment Eric asked “Does she need food?” “I don’t know.” My response felt silly. I think I was trying to understand so desperately that for a moment it was fiesable that maybe that was something she had tried to communicate that I had missed. I remembered the phone. I typed the question. An emphatic nod gave us our next move. I asked if some bread and fruit would be ok. She nodded gratefully and after making sure she knew we would return, we set off.
The larger grocery store we had just come from had not been long from closing when we had left so I prayed that the smaller one nearby was still open. Open doors and lights were the best sight I had seen all day. We selected some things and headed for the checkout as closing notifications sounded through the speakers.
By the time we got back, the little girls were up and going! There was another man who had stopped. We weren’t sure if this was someone she knew or not but he remained there as we sat with her again. The woman handed her baby to Alyssa, who sweetly and quietly sang song after song, looking into her little eyes and singing truth over her tiny ears. The two toddlers quickly discovered that Eric doubled as a jungle gym and laughed and giggled as he picked them up and tossed them into the air! There wasn’t a shred of fearfulness in them as they ran in circles around us, bread in hand– each time stopping where I was to take a bite of bread, point Eric’s direction and laugh! And then run to him and do it all again.
After sitting a while, it seemed like there was little else we could do. Which was true. There was little else we could do. I let Alyssa know that I was ready when she and Eric were, but wisely and obediently they waited. All the while, I had been listening to the mother talking to this man in Arabic, I imagine telling him all that had happened to her son. Because I couldn’t understand, my attention had turned more to observing what the others were doing until suddenly the woman broke into tears and fell, face-down to the ground, weeping and crying out. I waited. I didn’t know what else to do. “Mourn with those who mourn.” (Romans 12:15) The holy spirit dropped these words like a sandbag on my shoulders. I felt a weight. I knew now why I was there. Just to be with her in her hurt and her pain.
After a while, she calmed herself, sat up against the wall again, and was offered a cigarette but the man nearby. “Mourn with those who mourn.” Again. I placed my hand on her shoulder and prayed silently. As she continued to converse with the man, her agitated speech calmed and my hand fell as she flicked the butt of her cigarette to the ground. At this point, Eric had started conversing with the man, which meant the little girls were not occupied with being catapulted into the sky. I looked over just in time to see that one of them had found the cigarette butt and had placed it to her lips–with the end still glowing orange. Maternal instinct kicked in as I jumped to take it out of her little fingers. She and her sister giggled as I made all kinds of “YUCK” faces to try to communicate that the cigarette was NOT a good idea.
Satisfied that the situation was defused, I turned to see that Eric was now speaking to the Mom. He had taken her hands in his and met her eyes with his. “I know you don’t understand everything I’m saying…” And maybe she didn’t. But whether she understood or not, as he spoke truth over her about her worth and her identity, walls were falling down.
After this, we parted ways with kisses and handshakes. As we walked home, we prayed hope and life over her family. I was still whirling as we walked into our apartment, as we were greeted by the rest of the team. I didn’t honestly know what I was feeling. There was initially nervousness when it all began. Utter dependance as we tried to communicate. Excitement as we sought out food. Then so much pain as we mourned with her. So much joy as I watched Eric and Alyssa with the kids. So much hope as we left. Yet still, a weight, knowing it wasn’t over. Knowing that this morning as I write this down, she is still waiting. But maybe now with a little more hope. Maybe wondering who on earth those random people were who stopped and sat with her the night before. Maybe feeling like she was actually seen by God. My heart still pounds as I think of her.
Please join me in praying for this woman and her family.
