We walked into her home delivering a box of food and found her sitting alone in her living room watching the news. We made small talk, asked about her family, where in Syria she was from, and how long she has been here in Jordan. As she is answering in walks her neighbor toting her 3 small children. Our translator quietly informs us that he saw this woman registering this morning at the church as a new refugee. Her name was Amila, and she had recently arrived in Jordan 10 days ago with only her 3 children and the clothes on their backs. When we asked about her husband, the woman whose home we were in told us the story of Amila's husband.
Amila is from a town that the Syrian military is currently laying siege to. No one can go in, no one can go out –and food and water supplies are dwindling. Amila's husband was apart of a group of men who would risk breaking through the blockade at night through a small wooded area to bring back food and water for those trapped inside the town. One night as her husband was on his way back carrying armfuls of supplies he was caught by the Syrian military, his best friend unable to do anything to help, watched as he was taken away. It is assumed that he is dead.
As the woman finished the story, Amila braved a smile and said to us, "You know, I always dreamed of being able to sit down and talk with foreigners."
The television raptured everyone's attention as a haunting melody started to play followed by graphic images of men, women, and children killed in the war and the lyrics "we are the souls of the martyrs the voice of those dead." She turned the volume up and both women began to cry. The tears fell steady down their faces, an overflow of the pain and sorrow that has become their reality. "Why is this happening to us? How many more people must be killed for them to be satisfied? I haven't heard from my brothers or my sisters in years, I don't know if they are dead. And her, her husband is dead and she is alone with 3 small children. When is enough, enough? The way they are killing our people is in humane, they cut their heads off -even the children. Even though we hate the Jews for what they did to the Palestinians, at least they didn't do anything like this." We had nothing to say in response, the only answer we could give was our tears.
Chelsea leaned over to our translator and asked him to tell them, "we have nothing to give, nothing we can say could help, but know that we are here for you, to sit with you, to share in your suffering."
Amila responded, " what you are doing is more than enough."
Our attention was diverted back to the television as a man's desperate plea from behind a shaky video camera rang out. He was appealing to the world, to anyone watching, to do something to help the town that the Syrian military is surrounding, "we are running out of food and water, if you are out there, please send help or we will all die here."
I've never fought in a war. I guess you could say the Jordanian/Syrian border is the closest I've come to a war zone. I've read stories of people who have experienced the trauma of war, but there was always this sort of disconnect between their pain and my comprehension of it. I know what was missing now, it was being able to hear the pain in their voices. Their voices convey the realities, the trauma, and the sorrows that they've experienced. Their voices enable me to feel their pain. War is a terrible thing. It's a terrible, terrible thing.
In no way, shape, or form has this experience turned me into a pacifist. If anything the fight inside of me has risen more. There is so much injustice that happens in the world, and now that I have seen I am responsible. I can't just sit back and accept that these happen, that they are beyond my control. No, I have to fight. But like it says in 2 Corinthians " For though we live in this world, we do not wage war as the world does. The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of this world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds."
There's a line from a worship song by Jesus culture that says, "I see an army rising up to break every chain." I want to be in that army. I want to be the generation calling down the reign of heaven. I want to waste my life bringing the kingdom to the darkest places in this world. I want to make the name of Jesus famous.
To the Right is Amila, and a fellow volunteer Rose is holding her youngest daughter.
I want one…the problem is I want THIS one.
