I knew that their one room garage home was small. Oppressive. Dark. Full of outside persecution, unfriendliness, and distress. Inside was hardly a shelter. Yet, it was all they had for 3 awfully long years. 3 years of not enough room to even walk about. 3 years of inhumane living conditions. Could we call this a refugee? Hardly. They called it a prison. But aren’t refugees supposed to find refuge? Could hand outs from the UN create refuge? Or food baskets? Or food vouchers? Or random donations of clothes and various pieces of broken old furniture equal refuge? Certainly, all these things helped. However, at the end of the day safety in shelter is necessary to move beyond bare survival. Two months ago, the three ladies that lived in this “home” were brave enough to trust me to start making cards. At first, I think they just thought it was a fun craft, but when they began to understand that this could be a livelihood for them, their eagerness to sew matched their need....
Threads of Hope When we were thinking about moving to Lebanon, the dream of working with the refugees began to take root in my heart. Honestly, I have only been able to fullfill this dream in scattered moments. Yet despite how small these encounters are they move me beyond words. My refugee friend's stories are filled with much more than running from a war and a displaced people. So much more. They include family members killed by ISIS, rape, beautiful homes taken away and I don't even begin to know the sum of the pain. Add to that the poverty, discrimination, and the lack of hope they find here. I am left to ask, how do you impower the poor among you? This is a question that has been grappled with by powerful vast organizations, world leaders, everything in-between, and by me. Perhaps by you also? It is one thing to hand out the fish. It is another to provide the fishing gear and the know-how. Which would you rather have? Personally, I like being in control. The later choi...