Looking to the future...

Throughout this summer, the word "refugee" has slowly lost its shock value for me. After hundreds of conversations about everything from music to tattoos to relationships, people are people--nothing more--with the good, the bad, and the unique parts of their personalities and experiences all rolled up into individual human beings.

Yet because of this, it can be so easy to forget what survivors these men and women truly are, and how drastically their lives have changed. 

I cannot count how many times I have heard the phrase "before, my life meant nothing." The man from Baghdad, who had suffered through so much war and pain and loss, that every time he received a death threat there was a sense of release--as if perhaps today would be the day that all of this would finally end. The woman from Burma, who lost all but two of her seventeen children to starvation, war, and ethnic cleansing, and who somehow managed to raise and protect those final two with a smile on her face and light in her eyes. The man from Afghanistan, who now supports a wife, two children, brother, and mother in his home country, after his father was killed and his brother saw an explosion that decapitated and mutilated so many civilians that he lost his faculty of speech and reasoning. The couple from Ethiopia that trekked for months to find safety, watching their friends fall away as they walked, only to discover that in each new destination there was less promise than in the last.

With death and loss so constantly at one's doorstep, I cannot even imagine how one would begin to view life. Survival is instinctive, but without hope it can appear impossible. Yet what is so inspirational is that these men, women, and children have not only survived, travelled halfway across the world, and begun a completely new life, but they are looking towards the future. Towards children and families they thought they would never have. Toward education and employment, festivals and the Fourth of July. They are living their lives, giving to others, and making their new home a bit more beautiful, interesting, and full of life.

-- Elizabeth

Just two weeks more

My heart stands in a state of denial. I cannot believe that in a matter of two mere weeks I will no longer be living here with all of my dear friends--the refugees--people who have become my family over the course of the past few months. Whenever the subject of my departure arises in a conversation I send forth the plea that we do not discuss it for it is too painful for my little soul to ruminate upon at this moment. I simply want to enjoy the next few weeks without the bitter tinge of the reality that awaits me on August 15^th when I will drive my car out over the bothersome apartment speed bumps for the last time.

Last night I took a group of boys to play put-put golf. Thirty-six holes later we had catalogued countless laughs, a few frustrated squeals and a constant banter of jokes. I couldn’t wipe the smile the grin off my face as we drove home with the warm summer wind streaming through the open skylight and windows, with the radio on and unabashedly loud slurping noises coming from the seats around me as we all struggled to consume our melting ice cream cones before they succumbed to the fatal power of the heat. My four friends piled out of the car tangled amidst their ice cream and a profuse outpouring of thanks. As I slipped my key in the lock and they walked away into the darkness, I saw them turn around as one of them yelled, “Thank you so so much, Jenna! You are just the best friend we could have!” The others chorused their agreement and then they continued to disappear into the humid night. My heart was so touched and tears still spring to my eyes at the recollection. This summer has taught me so many beautiful things that I don’t think I have yet fully been able to process in my mind, much less possess the ability to compose in narrative form. Regardless, I know that I will view life differently from here on. These people have revealed to me a beauty of living that I hope to forever remember and carry within my soul. 

--Jenna