Hope

 I went to to Turkey with the hope of getting to tell people's stories and engage in the refugee crisis at a closer range ... and I left not only having been entrusted with the stories of many who have lived through hardships far greater than I have ever experienced... but also having been welcomed into their homes, hopes, and dreams. I asked about their hopes for the future, their prayer for today, and their memories of the past. I listened as people talked of what they wish for their children, their families, and their countries. It all sounds lofty and romantic until you are sat speechless across from a grown man with tears in his eyes saying that he doesn't know if his mother and sister are dead or alive. Until a former police officer from Mosul tells you that his two sons and two brothers were killed by a bomb while he was out protecting the city. And until a 20 year old girl responds with, "I don't have any hope left" while recounting the story of how she ended up alone in Turkey after her mother died of cancer just after crossing the border. And yet. These same people, every single one... welcomed me with smiles and kisses... and laughed when they could. They stuffed me with Iraqi pastries and tea and a whole, whole lot of love. I don't quite know why I'm telling you all this... but sharing stories is one of the best ways I know how to help. And so I'll continue. Continue with the hope that a small sliver chipped off of one of my experiences lands where God wants it to... and that it will propel you to pray, or give, or just have that sliver remain in your heart or mind until it carbonizes into a greater love or compassion... or simply a changed mindset. This is what I can hope for as a storyteller. And so hope, I will.