The Girls Who Broke My Heart

The first day I met her, she wore two lady bug sneakers. Today, she only has the left one, and one left sandal on her right foot. Love usually asks me to hold her, running up to me with her hands held in the air. She talks quietly, like I do, except when she wants my attention; “Madame!” she yells, and it works. She loves to smile at me with her beautiful little teeth and beautiful Syrian eyes. Her hair is short; apparently it used to fall down her back, but her mama cut it all off to protect her. She has chipped pink nail polish, and wears a pair of blue wool tights every time I see her. She taught me a clapping game today, a look of deep concentration fell across her face as she showed me what to do. I acted as a mirror to her every action, giving her the attention she desperately craves. Later she played with my hair, and asked to spin around again and again, making the motion with her hands, knowing full well I won’t refuse.

       All of a sudden she took my hand, pointed out into the distance, and said “Mama!!” When she leads you by the hand, you can’t say no. She led me through the tents and across the road to her family, and they welcomed me in with a smile and a wave. I removed my shoes before walking on the blanket, and sat between two women. A little boy and girl were playing around their tent, and immediately the girl showed me her Ariel Barbie and the t-shirt the doll wears as a dress. The boy climbed on my lap and hugged my neck, wet faced and wearing only one shoe. I sat with them for a while, playing that hand game again with Love, throwing the ball around, and simply taking in their reality.

       Love and her sisters had food poisoning the night before. The army food that was given to 1,200 refugees yesterday had maggots in it, and many of the people were taken to the hospital. This camp is already on the verge of closing; it is such a blessing that this incident didn’t shut it down. Many of the refugees received papers to go to Germany, but they were either lost on the way over or got ripped; they really are just pieces of paper. So they’re trapped in this camp, but it’s better than where they came from.

 

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       Usna was tired after enduring the food poisoning, a cotton ball still taped where her IV used to be. She just sat with me and hugged me for a while, not needing to say a word. I met Usna and her sister Yesna the first day I came; These Afghani sisters have such fire in their eyes, but so much love to give.

       That same day I watched Usna run into a fight between some men and throw a punch, and when she ran away she was pulled to the ground by her braid. And my heart broke right there on the concrete. Because her first instinct right now is to fight; she fought for her life in her home countries, fought when she crossed over on a raft, and now she fights to survive in the camp. Although these people escaped from the worst of it, it’s still engrained in their hearts. Living in tents on a parking lot is better than living in fear, fighting with fists is better than guns.

       But there is something, someone, greater than anything they’ve ever known. Greater than their Allah. His name is Jesus. He is fighting for them; calling out every day for Usna, for Love.  As much as my heart broke for these two girls, Jesus has always loved them, he has always longed for them to run towards HIM with open arms. To hug his neck. To sit with them and just enjoy being together. Because he loves them so much. SO MUCH! So much.

       So I’ll keep running towards Him with open arms.