People were coming in to our transition point by the hundreds as the sun began to go down over the mountain on the island of Lesvos, Greece. It began to get chilly and the wind brought a bitter crisp that you just can’t seem to shake, and everything I had on was completely dry. These people were coming in soaking wet, some from the waist down from sitting in the boats, some completely drenched because their boat had capsized. They are coming into the transition point not knowing what is coming next, not knowing where to go, when they’ll leave, if they’ll have dry clothes and a place to put their head at night. We don’t have enough blankets for everyone so the babies first, children next, then women. The transition point is starting to settle down and the buses have stopped running, people are finding places to settle in for the night. This young man approached me asking me for a blanket, I don’t know what it was about him but something inside me said to help him out, to hear his story.
I found him one blanket for him and his three friends to share. The gratitude they showed me reaffirmed the feeling I had to pursue a conversation with them. I found a few more blankets a little later and took them to these guys and sat down to talk with them. I wanted to understand who they were, where they come from, and where they hope to go to. They were 20 year olds from Damascus, who have been studying at university for the past two years and the war stopped their education. He talked about their journey across the Sea from Turkey to Greece and how he witnessed people die that day drowning because the boat had capsized. They told me about the motor on the boat dying half way across and the whole time they were just praying that the motor would start up again. About a half hour later the motor came back on and they made their way to the shore of Lesvos, Greece, a sign of hope for the new future that lies before them.
They are hoping to continue their journey all the way to Germany to pursue and finish their education. We talked a little more and then I asked if I could pray for them and my new friend said to me “that’s all I want, everywhere I go for people to be praying for me.” It really put things into perspective for me, these aren’t just refugees, they are people with a story, with a previous life, with hope for a better future life. It put a face to something I have only heard on the news. I still can’t believe I am here on the front lines of a crisis where people are seen as objects and not people. The people I continue to meet bring so much joy to my life and it gets harder and harder to say goodbye as we take them to a bus where the rest of their life lies ahead of them.
Today a man told me about all the hurt and pain he left behind in Syria, and how he can remember the last time he’s seen a genuine smile. As I walked down the road to go talk to my friends the first thing he said to me is “your smile is beautiful.” I will always remember the next words that came out of his mouth, “most people smile with their mouth and it’s fake, you smile with your heart and it’s real.” I may not feel like I have much to offer at times but it’s in those times that all you can do is smile because it’s not anything I can do, but what God can do through me. He told me to never smile with just my mouth, but always with my heart. I want to remember these people, their journey, the way they’ve impacted my life. I’m not sure all the emotions have been processed yet, but my heart breaks. All I can do is take a step back, look to the sky and remember God is good.
