Renuion

with Lina, my dear "sister" 

The heart is always warmed by the greeting of friends.  There is nothing like a hug, a smile, a kiss from someone you have not seen for some time.  There is so much tender exuberance in reunions. 

My return to the holy land is filled with many, many such reunions.  From Mohammed who met us at the airport, to Hussein who I randomly ran into on the street, to long-time friends and colleagues, I have received more kisses and hugs than I can remember.  Being known by so many wonderful people is a gift I don't' ever want to take for granted.

But there have been other sweet reunions on this trip. Nearly half of the pilgrims are from churches in California.  I haven't seen any of them in years.   When each one walks through the customs at the airport, the spark of recognition ignites memories and affection.  

The first wave of pilgrims who arrived in Tel Aviv today!

This has me thinking more about how it must have felt for Peter, Mary, and the other disciples as they encountered the resurrected Jesus for the first time.  The confusion they felt must have quickly morphed in pure joy.  "Is it really you?" they must have exclaimed.  No wonder Mary grabbed Jesus.  She wanted to have a physical connection to ground the emotional reality she was experiencing. If she could touch him, she then knew she wasn't dreaming. 

For those of us who often distance ourselves from God, I wonder if the Divine One has that same sense of joy when we return.  Does Christ feel that intoxicating spark of love when we metaphorically kiss and greet him?  "I've been waiting for you.  Welcome home!" I imagine him saying.  "Come, sit!  Let's catch up."  

I think I have a glimpse of how delightful that reunion must be. 

Arrival

We have arrived!  Well, at least three of us.  After smooth flights and connections through Paris,  it was thrilling to catch the first glimpse of the holy land.  The coastline with miles of beaches gives way to high rises and industrial complexes that dot this part of Israel.  A quick circle of the airport and we touched down.

As we taxied to the gates, I pondered what was ahead for my travel companions.   Jill and Claire were about to be dumped into the craziness of my connections in Israel.  Mohammed, out taxi driver, is a good friend.  Not surprising for an Arab Israeli Muslim man who lives in Jerusalem, the ride to Bethlehem was filled with talk of politics, family, and religion.

When we arrived at our hotel next to the Church of the Nativity,  we were greeted and treated to dinner by good friends, the Ghareeb family.  Over scrumptious fare, we caught up on news and life. I give the children gifts from Cincinnati - Reds baseball caps and Reds backpacks.   The adults got Maverick chocolate from Findlay Market.  I adore this family and it was lovely to bring a piece of my new world to them.

Before heading to bed, I insisted on a quick walk around Manger square.  Jet-lagged though we were, we somehow found the grace to accept tea from another friend we ran into.  Adnan ushered us into his shop and shared stories about Bedouin life as he reminisced about his father who passed away a few years ago.

As I went to bed, I began to ponder what this trip will mean for me.  I know well how delightful the discovery can be for those who are here for the first time.  The sights, smell, and spirituality of this place are what has led many to call it the fifth gospel.  But for me, it is like a glimpse of home.  What is familiar and feels like family brings a unique depth to my return.  But what is anticipated and known can often prevent an openness to new insights and possibilities.  I want to be attentive to my own sense of "why this place at this time."  How will God be present to me, to this place, to these people,  and to our soon-to-be-arriving pilgrims?

I know one thing for sure.  As I preached on Easter Sunday, my heart is seeking moments of resurrection, not resuscitation.  While connected to the past, I have no desire to be bound to it.  Things are never the same here, nor can they be.  Instead, I want to attend to the stories of resurrection - great and small. I can't help but wonder how many of those stories will be my own.

golden ticket - or so I thought

An American passport is golden all over the world.  It opens doors, particularly here in Israel and the West Bank.  Clearing a checkpoint?  Rarely do you get a second look with the USA stamped on the front of your paperwork. English is taught in all the schools and even the street signs conveniently accommodate those of us who are American.

In the years that I have been coming to the Holy Land, I have met many Palestinians who are American Citizens. We often compare notes about different parts of the US, discuss politics, and talk about the cultural differences between the US and Palestine. I had always assumed that as American citizens, they would enjoy all the same rights and protections that I have in Israel. 

I could not have been more wrong.

Last week, at a dinner with friends here in Beit Sahour (town next to Bethlehem), I met Tony and his family, Americans who live in Texas. As the conversation progressed, Tony mentioned that he couldn't drive in Israel. "What?" I said, "How is that possible? You are an American citizen!"

It turns out that in this crazy-making occupation that people who are of Palestinian descent (grandparents who lived at some point in Palestine) must use their Palestinian Identification card and CANOT use their American passports in this country. For these American citizens, their passports are stamped, "Void in Israel, see Palestinian ID #."

What does that mean exactly?  These folks are subject to all the restrictions of the Israeli military occupation. Here is a short, but by no means comprehensive, list of what this means:

Travel Restrictions

• Cannot fly in or out of Tel Aviv. Must fly into Jordan and enter through a much more involved checkpoint at the Jordanian border.
• Cannot drive a car in Israel proper. This means they must taxi all over the country.
• Are subject to the same permissions that West Bank/Gaza Palestinians need to cross into Israel. This means an American Citizen with a Palestinian background must apply for permission to go to Jerusalem! This is true if that same American citizen needs to visit the American consulate.

Rights Denied

• No right of free speech, assembly, or movement. Things like Facebook postings that criticize Israel can make one subject to arrest and detention.
• Can be arrested and indefinitely imprisoned without charge or trial (It's called Administrative Detention).
• A child who is 12 years old or older will be prosecuted as an adult.
• House, car, and person searches allowed without provocation or warrant.
• Family owned land is subject to military seizure without compensation.
• If an American of Palestinian descent married an Arab who lived in Israel, that person would not be permitted to live in Israel with their spouse.

I asked how the US responds to this injustice.  The official response was that if you want to travel to Palestine, these are the rules. 

This is the only place in the entire world where the US government allows another government to invalidate the rights, accessibility, and protections afforded the rest of its American citizens.  This is an outrage and a national shame.  

I guess you learn something new every day.  Unfortunately, what you learn is not always so good.

Angels are Crying

Today is Friday prayers in Bethlehem. Usually, this means that many of the shops owned by Muslims are shuttered. Muslim men flock to the mosques for required prayers at noon. For those who can't attend, sermons blast from loud speakers. Families take the day off to relax and dine together.  

But today is not like the many Fridays I have spent in the West Bank. Today, tensions are running high.  People are on edge. Instead of meeting in the mosques, men are gathering in the streets and sidewalks for prayer. Rumors of violence are flying.

What is going on?


Last Friday morning, there was an attack on Israeli police who secure the area around Al Aqsa Mosque where the Dome of the Rock is located in Jerusalem. Three Arab Israeli Palestinian assailants and two Arab Israeli police officers were killed in an armed shoot-out. Israel immediately closed this holy compound last week, canceling access for Friday prayers, something that had not happened since 1969.  

Initially, the Palestinians were measured in their response. Although there were calls for a day of rage on Wednesday, not much happened in the public sphere. With Palestinian friends, we drove through some of the hots spots in the West Bank - Jenin and Nablus were both calm on Wednesday.  And yesterday, a friend guided a political tour of Hebron and all was calm.

But then Israel implemented additional security measures for people entering the site. Without the permission of Jordan, the official custodian of Al Aqsa, Israel installed metal detectors and cameras. Early this morning, and against the advice of their security forces, Israeli government officials decided to make these measures permanent. 

Muslim Palestinians see this as the State of Israel encroaching and taking control of their holy area. Because of regular calls from Israel's right-wing to commandeer and install a "third" Jewish temple on this site, this is not far-fetched. Palestinians fear what happened in Hebron will happen in Jerusalem. (google Hebron if you want to know more) This is an explosive issue and any change to the status quo by Israel is perceived as a threat.

Praying outside of the newly installed metal detectors 

Today, throughout the West Bank and Israel, worshippers gathered near the entrances of the Old City of Jerusalem to pray and protest. There were violent clashes not only there but here in Bethlehem as well. Tear gas, stink bombs, and bullets are used to keep the rock-throwing crowds in order.

Of course, all of this is deeply concerning. People all over the city are wondering if this is the beginning of the third intifada, a sustained violent uprising against the Occupation. And if this triggers such a conflict, it will have a brutal physical, social, and fiscal impact on the people here.

Apart from the concern for these this region, I hold a more personal concern for the many friends I have here.

Khilil and his baby girl

Khalil and his family live in Azza Camp, the smallest and most proximate refugee camp to the Bethlehem protests. He and his wife left town today with their 7-month baby over concerns that breathing the tear gas would have fatal consequences on one so young. Their other children stayed home with the grandparents in a somewhat airtight room in order to limit their exposure. Can you imagine?

Hashem and Alyan, friends of mine in the Christian Quarter of the Old City of Jerusalem, have had their shops closed by military order for much of the week.  The economic ravages of the conflict impact those who simply want to make enough money to feed their families. They have few alternatives should the situation escalate.

My dear friends in the tour industry, Iyad, Issa, and Elias to name but a few, will be reeling should the violence escalate. Even though tours never go near these types of contained protests, fear will keep many from making pilgrimages here.

That is too bad. Tonight as reports of earlier protests emerge, it is very quiet here in Bethlehem. Charlotte and I had a great dinner and went out for ice cream. We enjoyed the cool evening breeze after sweltering in daytime temps that approached 100 degrees. It really is safe and even serene here. Yes, the larger context is chaotic but the Palestinians and their legendary hospitality bring a resilient joy and warmth to their their interactions with all of us.

Angels crying - Church of the Holy Sepulchre

None of my dear friends have or will ever contribute to the violence here on the ground. Each person is peace-loving. Each one follows the call to love their enemy. They embrace the best values in their faiths - be it Muslim or Christian. And each one abhors the injustice of the occupation.  

This is a place of terrible injustice as well as a wonderful place of peaceful hospitality.  It boggles the mind.

No wonder the angels are crying.

My lament continues to decry the suffering. My prayers of praise give shape to hope that this horrible occupation cannot and must not continue.

Searching for Syria

Before the War and Now

Being with refugees has given me a small window into their suffering but the crisis is not really in focus for me. I have had a difficult time trying to get my mind around the scope of it all. Click on this website for a great overview of what's happening in Syria. I found it helpful.

Searching for Syria

Please join me in praying for Syria!

Milad

As I mentioned previously, Max and I were hosted here in Lebanon by two wonderful Syrians in their 20’s. I wrote about Fadi yesterday and now I share Milad’s story.

At 26, Milad’s entire time as a university student has been colored by the Syrian War. A top scoring high school student, he immediately entered medial school in order to become a pediatrician. But no matter how well you do in your studies, finding a pediatric residency is not easy in Damascus as most areas of the city are not safe. How can you complete all your requirements when hospitals are under siege? The combination of ongoing violence and unrest as well as few professional prospects led him to cross the border six months ago and he is now a refugee. 

Milad in his clinic next to one of the refugee camps

Milad didn’t want his newly developed skills and knowledge to go to dormant so he serves as a volunteer doctor for other refugees. His makeshift clinic is in a converted shipping container perched beside one of the many refugee camps here. When he came, the container was an empty shell. He transformed it into a healing space, fully equipped as an examination room with a limited pharmacy. 

You may recall from an earlier post that Syrian refugees are prohibited from working. Even if Milad was granted an exception to work, the prohibitive $200,000 “license” fee would make it impossible. So he makes due with a small monthly stipend paid by an NGO that covers his basic expenses. 

Milad's clinic is open four days a week and he is the only staff. He sees both adults and children. The most common problems are respiratory challenges, gastrointestinal issues, and arthritis. Many of the children have open sores and other skin conditions. With open sewage and contaminated water in most of the camps, it is not surprising that people struggle to stay healthy. He regularly follows up on many of the babies we saw in the camps. He is kind, patient, generous – fruits of the spirit that every physician should possess.

While we were there, Milad got the good news that every refugee wants. He got permission to migrate, in this case, to Germany. As with all refuges, the amount of paperwork that he amassed for this endeavor was staggering. All the while, he had to learn and master German before his application could be considered. Imagine practicing medicine in a language you have rarely spoken. The challenges ahead are daunting on so many levels!

Milad and Max with new computers for the school

Milad’s losses are many. He leaves his mother behind in Damascus, an uneasy decision for the only son in the family. He also leaves behind a strong church community, a wonderful group of friends, and a culture that he knows and where he thrives. 

But Milad has a model for facing difficult circumstances with faith and courage. When he was just a young boy, his father was killed when a camel rammed his car in Saudi Arabia. His mother then moved back to Syria to teach grade school to support her family of two young children. Milad’s mother’s example is what inspires him to make this move to Germany. And leaving his mother is what makes this decision so painful.

My time with Milad was short but that didn’t stop us from having the most amazing and thoughtful conversations about faith and science. An ardent student of theology, he took a certificate from the Near East School of Theology in Beirut. Were his circumstances different, he likely would have pursed a divinity degree. This week at trauma camp, he winsomely engaged the kids and young adult leaders. Even though he has only been here in Lebanon 6 months, he is leaving behind his mark. 

When Max and I said goodbye to Milad, we took some time to pray together. None of us could stop the tears from flowing. With a future filled with uncertain hope and a departure that is riddled with unimaginable grief, it was difficult to know what or how to pray. I too am facing similar but not nearly as intimidating circumstances. So the prayer I've been praying became my prayer for Milad - that God would be the one constant he could count on when everything seems overwhelmingly new and foreign.

I am so deeply grateful to have met Milad. His courage, his faith, his Christ-like spirit inspire me. I consider him a dear brother in Christ.

To Know Fadi is to Love Fadi!

telling stories

For the past two weeks, Max and I have been staying with two Syrian refugees in Zahlé, Lebanon. Their apartment building is on the fourth floor above a busy street, across from the True Vine Baptist Church. Milad and Fadi are both in their 20's with very different stories. Milad, a physician, has just gotten travel papers to Dresden and will be departing for Germany within the month. Fadi, our primary host, translator and sometimes driver, is 21 and waiting for permission and a visa to go to Canada where he will restart his university studies.

Fadi's family are well-educated and strong Christian leaders in Damascus. His mother is head of InterVarsity in Syria as well as a dentist. His father is a civil engineer who ran a successful business. Now, that doesn’t matter much. There is no work in Damascus for engineers and Nahla’s dental practice is closed for safety reasons.

To know Fadi is to experience someone who is fun and engaging. When I think of him before the war, it is easy to imagine a bright future for him. His charm and exuberance for life would have served him well in business. He had every reason to believe he would succeed and flourish in this society. Before the war, Syria was a vibrant country with a growing economy, a strong tourism sector, and deep historic and cultural ties to the region. Fashion, music and sport were popular pastimes. Carefree and without many concerns, Fadi thought his future was set. University, business, a fast car, marriage and family –all seemed within reach.

volunteering as an English teacher in the refugee camp

But now the future is not as bright. Soon after he turned 15 years old, the conflict started and during his teen years it escalated into a full-fledged war. Here in Lebanon, he waits. Like many young men, his future is tied to international response and rules that are beyond his control. He can’t work. He can’t attend school. Like most 21 year olds, he has big dreams but now those dreams are on hold. He still schemes – but the options are far different from the ones available to him just a few years ago.

Imagine not just Fadi but the future of a whole generation being put on hold.

• Smoking and drinking? Who cares? A bullet may take your life any day. 
• Dreaming for the future? Why? Mandatory military service awaits. Besides, no jobs. 
• College entrance exams? Why study? There is no possibility of school. 
• Starting a family? How? No home, no work, and no money make it impossible. 

Fadi is exactly the kind of person Syria will need when it begins to rebuild. By nature, he is optimistic. His faith provides a world view that begins with love, not revenge. He is smart, generous, and believes he can and should contribute to a new Syria.

Fadi with a young
Syrian refugee from Aleppo

But I wonder what the lingering consequences of this war will have on people like Fadi. Should the war end tomorrow, the repair and rebuilding is far more than physical or fiscal. The psychological, social and spiritual scars of this war are profound. It won’t be easy to lay aside the strife that politics and religion caused in this region. It will take courageous leadership. Such men and women of impeccable caliber and wisdom have yet to emerge. I wonder if the wounded of Fadi’s generation can and will step up. 

I love this remarkable young man. I pray that God has a future for him that includes his return to Syria.

Fadi’s favorite verse: John 13:45-36

I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.

I'm afraid Max corrupted Fadi with cigars or was it the other way around?

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Getting the Feelings Out!

a painting by Izdihar Kassis, the Camp Director

This past week, Max and I were privileged to be part of a "trauma" camp for refugee teens. This overnight camp, patterned after a teenage version of VBS, gave the kids a respite from the boredom of the refugee camps, a chance for fun, and the opportunity to make new friends. Nearly 30 kids were part of the camp, a slight majority being girls. 

The theme for this "trauma" camp was Psalm 23, The Lord is my Shepherd. Each day, we looked at the meaning of various phrases, starting with the concept that God is the good shepherd who takes care of the sheep. 

The talks were interactive and allowed the kids to ask questions, express their doubts, and engage with the presenters. For many of the Muslim kids, this was new. To be allowed to express their anger towards God who allows war was surprising for most. To question whether God is good or all-powerful would be blasphemous in many contexts, including a Christian one like this. The leaders believe this is important for the kids to feel safe enough to be brutally honest about their past experiences, their faith, and their current circumstances. 

working on an art project

Beyond the group teaching/discussion time, the kids were given a chance to do projects where they created art pieces about what they were feeling. Then the kids met in small groups with trained facilitators and psychologists to share their stories and explain their artwork. In the various exercises, they were asked to see themselves as sheep. One day they were asked to depict how they felt as sheep. Another day, they were asked to draw a happy place for the sheep. Yet on another, they were told to depict the dark valley where they found themselves. 

notice the man holding a gun to the sheep

I wish I could post pictures of some of the people with their art but conservative muslims won't let their girls be photographed. Some of the images I saw: 

• Sheep confined to a black tent -  no way out. 
• Sheep within a heart
• Sheep being beheaded 
• Sheep at an oasis 
• Sheep in the middle of a desert 
• Sheep being stalked by a wolf 
• Sheep in the middle of a whole family of sheep

The follow-up stories have been heart-breaking. One child had shrapnel scares on his arm. Another spoke of digging through rubble to find family members after their home was bombed. One told about their father, a former Christian leader, who converted and joined ISIS and then abandoned the Christian mother and her children. One young lad lost both parents in the war and has no idea where the rest of his family is. Another one told about his brother who was lost at sea trying to migrate Greece. There were stories of sexual coercion, physical violence, and abandonment.

supporting one another

Some of the kids, boys as well as girls, openly cried when telling their stories. Others had a blank look on their faces. Some joked and tried to cover their pain. Even so, there was a sacred quality to these groups. They deeply listened to each other, relating their memories to the stories they were hearing. Once they get started, they had so much to tell. It was amazing to watch how supportive they were to one another. 

Every day, the boys in my group asked me if i was happy or sad in their broken English. I always asked them the same question right back. One delightful young boy never told me he was anything but sad. When I asked why, he simply shrugged his shoulders and said, "What is there to be happy about?" 

from a black heart to a loving one!

But through the week, we saw a change in some. A few that were standoffish, joined the fun and made friends. The girls in particular got into the singing. All lit up when we had a talent show one night. At every juncture, the staff affirmed their worth and you could see that all the kids blossomed with this kind of daily love. 

The healing work that began during this trauma camp week will be followed up with months of care by the team. The most severe cases will see counselors and receive meds. The girls will have the opportunity to attend an all day Saturday "camp" once a month for further education and support. All will receive follow up visits where they live in the refugee camps. 

Given the enormity of the crisis, we only saw a small number of refugee youth. 30 teens is but a drop in the ocean. But my hat is off to Izdihar and her staff who do not let the size of the problem overwhelm them. They believe they are called to love and support the kids who God brings to them. The difference they are making is remarkable. 

I wholeheartedly agree.

Rules Refugees Live By

Piecing together the what it means to be a refugee is complicated. Even though the UN oversees and manages services for refugees, the host country has a great deal to say about where refugees are located, employment possibilities and restrictions, and access for services.

Since arriving, Max and I have been told all sorts of things about refugee life. Confounding, contradictory, and very often unverifiable rules have been reported. But everything we hear confirms that refugees continue to suffer and that few possibilities exist for the future if they stay in this country.

So I thought I would provide a limited overview of some of the regulatory challenges the refugees face in Lebanon. I have tried to verify and clarify as best I can but I make no guarantees for 100% accuracy. 

A reminder that the Lebanese government has been deeply impacted by the refugee crisis. More than 1/3 of their population are now Syrians. Also, Lebanon is not a signatory to the 1951 U.N. Convention on the Status of Refugees, largely due to the presence of long-term Palestinian refugees. Also, there are historic tensions between Lebanon and Syria due to complicated and uneven responses by both sides during the Lebanese Civil War and subsequent regional conflicts. 

To deal with the current crisis, in 2015, the Lebanese government introduced new residency policies that have caused an estimated 70 percent of the nearly 2 million Syrian refugees to lose legal status. Let's unpack what this means:

Lebanese Residency Permit

Residency Requirements: Prior to 2015, Syrians were able to openly cross the border into Lebanon without visas and had the ability to renew their residency without cost. Since January 2015, any Syrian refugee who is registered with the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR)) must establish legal residency in Lebanon and pay a $200 annual fee. If they cannot pay, and most cannot, they loose legal status that puts them at risk of raids, arrest, and deportation. 
This also makes them vulnerable to exploitation without the legal recourse of being able to turn to authorities for assistance and protection. 

This is a big problem for babies born to refugee families. As refugees, they cannot return to Syria to register their children as Syrian citizens and they are unable to establish legal identity for their children in Lebanon. So these babies are without identity papers of any kind, including a prized birth certificate. This impacts their ability to return to Syria and/or to emigrate to other countries with their parents. Hundreds of thousands of children fall into this "no status" category.

Restriction of Movement:  All Syrians are subject to increased scrutiny at the security checkpoints throughout the country. But for refugees, if they return to Syria for any reason, they cannot return to Lebanon. This means they cannot visit family members who are ill or dying, check on their properties, or permanently go back home - even if the fighting in their area has stopped.

Protests in Beirut about Refugee Curfews

Banner Announcing a Curfew

Many cities impose curfews on Syrians. Here is Zahlé, the curfew is 6 pm. 

Ability to Work:  Refugees must sign a "no-work" pledge to maintain their residency status. If they break the law and find under-the-table work, the only work options open to them are in the agriculture, construction and cleaning service sectors. Average monthly income is $277, far below the minimum wage of $448. Nighty-two percent of refugees work without official permits.

A young girl with severe deformity of the spine.

She cannot walk and surgery is not an option here.

Access to Healthcare:  The conditions in the camps are unsanitary. Many children and adults have a variety of respiratory issues, skin conditions, infections, and diarrhea. Refugee medical care is administrated by the UNHCR. but the cost of assessment, care, and treatment is prohibitively high. What UNHCR underwrites is very restrictive. Chronic conditions are not covered - only urgent, acute and life-threatening problems are covered.  

Most of the babies I have seen were born at home because the mothers have no access to pre or post natal care. Only in the case of a life-threatening birth would an ambulance be called, and even then, the family would have no ability to pay. Any medical attention they receive is from volunteer nurses and physicians who enter the camps to provide very basic services.  

Boys in the camp who showed me their homework
They attend the school run by the local Baptist church

Access to Education: Hundreds of thousands of children have no access to education. This means few are literate or able to do simple math. With parents who are constrained by their legal status or inability to find work, many children move into the informal workforce. They work in the fields, beg on the streets, and sell trinkets for pennies. The public school system in Lebanon was already strained before the war. Now, with the influx of refugee children, they simply don't have the resources to educate these children. Since qualified teachers from Syria are barred from working, informal and rudimentary schools are springing up in near the camps. I'll write more about this in a later post.

babies, babies, and more babies!

Who can resist that smile?

One of the gifts provided by "For the Family," the Christian organization that is hosting us, is their compassion and care for babies-at-risk in the camps. So far, every day has included visits to mothers and babies who are facing challenges.

My Syrian refugee guides, Halla and Kifah, respectfully enter each dwelling with a kind hello and a gentle spirit. The mothers light up when they see them and graciously accept a bag of diapers and baby supplies. I am always introduced as a volunteer from "Amerikeya."

Praying for surgery

The little ones I have seen have  a variety of problems. One baby with Down Syndrome has heart defects that must be surgically repaired for her to have any chance at survival. One toddler has club feet. Another has an hemangioma at the base of the skull. Others suffer from heat rash and skin problems. Another has trouble breast feeding. But it is not just the babies who suffer. I have seen children who are unable to stand, some with genetic diseases, and many more disengaged from conversation with the vacant stare of traumatized memories.

Kifah with one of the babies

Halla and Kifah lovingly take each baby into their arms, engaging them, cuddling them, cooing to them. They take out their phones and take a photo to document their progress.  This helps the pediatrician, likely my friend Milad, a refugee himself, recognize the children when the doors of the make-shift clinic open during the week. 

An interview follows with the mother and, more often than not, other women in the camp community. Even without understanding the language, it is clear that they all have strong opinions on what is the best treatment approach. Notes are taken, stories shared, and prayers offered. I have been humbled when asked to pray not only for the baby but for immediate relief for the family from their suffering and for a hope for a better future.

a mother and her child

I love the simple but powerful connections with these mothers. I too have held and fretted over my own babies when they were sick. I am now a grandma who offers unconditional love to my beloved grandson. No matter our culture, class or circumstances, the love that mothers have for their children transcends any differences. The prophet Isaiah knows the power of this love and uses it to describe God's love and care for us. 

"As a mother comforts her child,so I will comfort you." Isaiah 66:13.

When the dark stories of suffering overwhelm me, I look for light wherever it presents itself. For the past few days, it has come, in part, through the deep and wide circle of mother love.

I love the spark in this little one.
Born in Lebanon as a political refugee from Egypt, she will be given no papers or birth certificate.
She is stateless which impacts her ability to leave the country with her parents.  
But even without identity papers, Miriam Noor is God's beloved!