in my heart's turmoil regarding the seemingly fading of compassion in our country i had prayed for respite. i had asked for a 'connection' that might bolster my confidence in the power of love.
and yesterday i was blessed with that very opportunity. i had the privilege through a job assignment to meet an Iraqi refugee. my task was to get the paperwork done to sign him up for our senior meal program. now Mr A can speak only a smattering of English and my Arabic is limited to 'peace' & 'love'. so it was through much gesturing and maneuvering that we completed his enrollment forms.
his demeanor was one of humility and quiet...almost as though he did not want to be seen. it made me feel sad. it must have been trying for him to entertain my respectful but somewhat pushy determination to get the answers to the nosey questions on the forms.
i really wanted to ask how he has been treated here given the climate of hate that has pervaded the news lately. but i held my tongue as i listened intently leaning close and reaching for a communication that bridges the language gap.
i have learned to embrace miracles when they come my way and to be open to hearing what is really being said.
we finished the forms and i admired Mr A's signature - so different from my own and really pretty. he showed me how to write my name in Arabic too and it is lovely.
then with more signs and 'charades' we talked about his experiences.
he is a teacher. the war, which he says is constant in Iraq and has always been part of the life there, took away his livelihood and his family. his wife and children were "blown up" he said. there was fear, always, just stepping out of his house. the danger was real and on-going.
Mr A says he is grateful that in America he can leave his home without fear of being bombed. he loves to take walks along the streets of Arlington without having to be constantly on guard for his life. he calls it "PEACE".
i wanted to listen more but there were others waiting for me and i had to leave him to sit on his own, enjoying the calm. he had planned to go home for his lunch but with some pleading was convinced to eat with us. he seemed to even, in his timid and reserved way, enjoy the socialization with the others at his table.
i had to leave the room away from the crowd for a bit to absorb - and to cry. how sad that this educated and productive professional has lost his loved ones and is now in a country so far from his birth, struggling to learn the language, living in low income housing, on food stamps.
and then i realized the true gift i had received - seeing the quiet joy he feels at having the freedoms that i so often take for granted...something that he could not attain in his former land.
and so i give thanks for living in a place where i can say what i feel, live where i want and be relatively secure in taking a walk in the park.
i was gifted with hope - hope that this country does still hold the offer of refuge for those fleeing oppression; hope that we can muster up the compassion to at least tolerate and even appreciate diversity; hope that we can band together to present an example for global unity.
i am blessed.
Salaam.
