This Post is Brought to You by the Letter F

Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not.

Dr. Seuss

the FLU

It's been a busy week, over here at the Naskov house.  We've been fighting the stomach flu!  No fun! I'll spare you the gory details, because I consider you friends.  And that is all I will say about that!

FAMILY

Saturday we visited family in Skopje.  (Nothing like spreading the stomach flu "love" around)  It was a great visit, complete with fabulous food, conversations about faith, a fun game of Farkle, and enjoying family time.  The kids (and us big kids, too) are really soaking in all the missed time with Baba, Dedo, and Aunt Julie.  It's been so many years since we have all been together - actually, for the youngest boys, moving here was the first time they'd met their grandparents on Zo's side.  The Saturdays that we visit seem to go by very quickly!  But we are so excited to have them together.

FIGHTS, FEET, FEAR, and FRIENDSHIPS

Sunday, since we were clear of the "bug", Zo and I took our weekly trip to Gevgelija.  It was the busiest I have ever seen.  Pictures can't describe the crowds.  10,000 people passed through the camp on Sunday alone.  (This picture is part of the line, waiting to get inside the camp, from Greece) The military & police presence was more pronounced than usual. We found out that was because there had been a fight break out between the refugees outside the fence, in the morning, and the situation had gotten pretty tense. We spent about an hour and a half at the camp.  It was amazing what happened, just during that time.

I met a precious Syrian woman, with her seven month old daughter. The mother was so distraught.  The volunteers go outside the camp, and bring women and children into the camp while the men wait in the line. That way, they can help the women with their children - changing soaked and soiled diapers, giving food and water, and a place to sit down because most of them are completely exhausted.  It is also a time to assess any needs they might have - medical, clothing, etc.  Almost every child that comes in needs a new pair of shoes.  I am not exaggerating at all when I say that the tennis shoes they are wearing when they arrive are pretty pointless.  They are held together by strings.  (Remember, they have been across the sea and walked for very long distances in those shoes.)  In the first hour, over half of the 30 pairs of shoes we brought were being worn by grateful refugee children. (Picture is a boy wearing his new shoes) Unfortunately, others went without because we didn't have their sizes. 

Back to the Syrian mother.  She was sitting in the tent, holding her daughter, waiting for her husband to go through the line.  And she continued to wait. And wait.  I spoke to her, trying to get her mind off of her fear for a few moments. She spoke some English.  While I talked, a single tear rolled down her face. She wiped it away quickly, obviously embarrassed. I told her about my children. She told me that her daughter was her first child. I told her that I could see the love she had for her daughter.  The tears began to fall on their own.  She looked at me with so much pain and said, "I am not a good mother. I brought my baby here. I am bad."  She couldn't speak and turned away.  I touched her shoulder, and reassured her, as best that I could, that she was good. That she was doing her best for her baby. I'm not a cry-er by nature, but there are some things that make me an absolute mess. Watching that mother, brokenhearted and feeling so much shame, was more than I could handle. So I cried with her. 

An hour later, she was still looking out the window, desperately seeking a glimpse of her husband, while her baby played next to her, oblivious of the pain and mess around her.  Police officers were making people go straight from the entry gate to the exit gate, so they could board buses. She was getting more anxious, so the volunteers offered to help her find her husband.  I told her I would keep her baby safe. And there was a moment there, where she was so scared, and so torn....I assured her I would not move and her baby would be safe.  Oh my goodness, the fear on that mother's face. She kept looking back as the volunteers escorted her toward the crowd.

Sweet baby girl spent the time sitting on my lap, eating my sunglasses.  After only 5 or 6 minutes, I saw the mother, rushing from the crowd toward the tent.  I smiled and waved.  The anxiety on her face was gut wrenching.  She thanked me, put her baby back in her front carrier, and rushed out to the gate where her husband was waiting.  It wasn't the last time I saw her.  Ten minutes before we left, I was helping Zo and a soldier with a little boy who had lost his family and I heard a woman calling through the fence, "Madame. Madame."  I looked toward the sound, and there was the Syrian mother, asking me for water for her baby's bottle.  I found a bottle, handed it through the fence, and was able to lock eyes with her long enough to say, "God be with you. And may your journey be safe."  She smiled, brushed a tear away. And then she was gone, into the crowd.

The rest of the time we spent at the camp, I organized the donations we brought, while Zo attempted to get arrested by one of the people in uniform. (not cool, Zo)  That's not a story for a public forum.  Just know that Zo spent a lot of years in America, and has a strong sense of justice and has forgotten the cautiousness (rightly, so) that people in Eastern Europe have toward those in authority. Alas, he came home with me and we have interesting stories to tell our children.

Moments before we left, and because he obviously hadn't gotten a clue from his first encounter, Zo stepped in between an irate police officer and a refugee who was refusing to leave the camp, saying he needed medical help. To be fair, much of the struggle between the officer and the refugee was because of language barriers. Because the man spoke English, Zo was able to convince him to sit on the outside of the gate, while I ran for a doctor at the Red Cross tent.  He said he was seeing black. When the medic arrived, she recognized the man because he had been in the medical tent a few hours before. She immediately realized that he had taken a turn for the worse, and called for an ambulance.  While we watched, they loaded him onto a stretcher and took him away.  He was going into diabetic shock and having heart problems.  We didn't have enough time to get his name. But God knows who he is.

One good event from this trip was that Zo made contact with a very kind police office who is from Skopje, and invited us to dinner.  I am sure that will be a call we make, in the not too distant future. It seems, by what he says that his heart is for the elderly in Macedonia, and he has a dream of opening a private retirement home.  Definitely someone we want to keep in contact with!

Also, when standing in the children's tent, one of the volunteers came up and  recognized Zo from childhood!  Wow!  They were friends as children.  Pretty crazy, eh?  Especially since we were two hours away from his hometown, and it's been 25-30 years since he's seen her.  She said he hasn't changed at all.  (I can't imagine a 300 lb, 6 foot 3 inch ten year old boy!  No wonder he stood out!)

FLIGHT
Because this is becoming more of a book than a blog, I'll try to keep this section short.  Tonight, Zo left for a 10-day business trip to the USA and Mexico.  YIKES!  Keep us in your prayers over the next few days. It is going to be really fun!  If nothing else, it will make for interesting conversation between the waiters after we leave restaurants.

We went to a restaurant tonight, and after I struggled through the whole meal with my Macedonian language skills, the waiter told me at the END OF THE MEAL that he speaks English. Thanks, dude!!!  No wonder he was smirking the entire time!

FUTURE
Before we left the camp yesterday, we asked for specific supplies that they need.  Here is what they said:

• shoes (definitely)
• socks (no one seems to donate those)
• diaper rash cream (the babies wear the diapers for a really long time, out of necessity, so rashes are common)
• warm pants (they are heading North, and the temp is dropping this week)
• 2 plug-in water pitchers (to warm water and milk for bottles)

Large organizations, like the Red Cross, are keeping them stocked with diapers, wipes, and feminine hygiene items, which is why we have stopped providing those items.  Instead, we try to fill in the gap with items that they don't receive normally, but desperately need.

I will not be going to the camp while Zo is out of the country. We decided that it was too far away for me to go alone, while the kids were 2 hours away.

Will post again soon.  Thanks for being a part of this journey!  We would love to read your comments and thoughts.