The Girl, the Jacket, and the Lesson

“In these bodies we will live. In these bodies we will die.

And where you invest your love, you invest your life.”

Awake My Soul, Mumford and Sons   

A LITTLE BACKGROUND

Well, there has been a lot in the news, this past week, about the refugees (specifically at the Greek/Macedonian border). With Croatia and Serbia both deciding to only accept refugees from Syria, Iraq, and Afghanistan, those from other countries are stuck in a geo-political quagmire. Macedonia followed suit, and is only allowing refugees from those three countries into the camp. Because of communication issues, political issues, and all around confusion with the situation, refugees and migrants from many countries are still coming.  So, when those from the countries that aren't accepted arrive at the border, they are not permitted entry. This becomes a particularly messy problem when they can't go back, because Greece won't permit them.  This week, alone, there are over 1,500 refugees stuck in the "neutral zone" between the two countries.  The neutral zone is nothing other than a rocky field, guarded by police on both sides. No infrastructure, no food (unless one of the relief agencies is able to deliver it - which is always a dance because it's in between countries), no shelter, and most frustratingly, no communication.  The police and military on either side are unable to make decisions and also unable to communicate with the people.  The need for interpreters is great. Tensions have been rising, as many of you have probably seen, on videos that have made their rounds on Facebook.

FAST FORWARD

So, Zo and I arrived at the camp on Saturday, around 2 PM.  On the 2 hour drive, we noticed (for the first time) several groups of refugees walking down the highway.  Strange, we thought.

We had a lot of supplies to deliver. We noticed, immediately that all of the people that were in laying in sleeping bags (outside the fence), the week before were gone. Big UNHCR tents had been installed outside the fence, but there were very few people inside.  We asked where everyone went.  The workers said that half of them ran away and the other half were taken back to the neutral zone, to await a decision from the governments.

 

SUPPLIES

The supply shed was almost full, with jackets, rain boots for kids, and socks, etc. It was obvious that a corporation had made some donations. For that, we were thankful.  We unloaded the gloves, diaper wipes, winter hats, etc (and we were happy to see that the supplies we bought weren't duplicating the items they had).

KIDS TENT

We filled our pockets with mini chocolate bars, like we always do, and headed for one of the two kids' tents.  Something was off.  We stepped inside and started asking questions about the week (just like we always do).  While we were talking to the staff, a group of 5-6 children, the oldest being about 8, came running into the tent. They immediately surrounded the worker, dropped to their hands and knees and started grabbing anything they could get their hands on.  Anything and everything. Diapers, wipes, bottles, clothes.  Everything.  Then they would jump up, hands full, and run out of the tent.  It happened over and over, while we tried, in vain, to get them to stop. I walked outside and started handing out candies. Not a single smile. The children were wild-eyed and acting like desperate animals. Then they started running up behind me and trying to steal chocolates out of my pockets. Nothing like this has ever happened before. They didn't understand any English.  They weren't listening. It was chaotic. I went back inside the tent, and then the older girls started coming in, with the children. Asking for so many things.  Pointing to everything we had. They were shivering. (It was quite cold - about 46 degrees and very windy)  I found a toddler that was in need, so I went back to the supply shed to retrieve warm clothes for him.  When I walked into the tent, holding a pair of sweat pants and socks, two separate teenage/women grabbed them out of my hands.

I had to physically grab them back to give them to the child that I was helping at the moment.

One worker was holding a bottle, trying to communicate with a man holding a baby, when a little boy about 6 years old, ran past, grabbed the bottle out of his hand and fled the tent.  The worker had to chase the boy down and take the bottle back.

At one point, while I tried to help a woman and her baby, a teenage girl tapped on my shoulder and asked for a hat.  "I don't have one," I said. "For children, only."  She had no idea what I was saying. She wouldn't leave. She just kept pointing to her head. And shivering.  She was in the way. I was busy. So, to get her to leave, I took the brand new winter hat off my head and handed it to her. She smiled, and walked away.

Then the men joined in. They would bring in children, and ask for shoes. We would say "no, they have shoes" and they would take them out of the tent, and bring them back without shoes on. The same children. And then tell us they lost the shoes.  They were taking everything, even items that didn't fit them or they had several of.  It was out of control.

And, to be honest, I was furious. (I even told Zo that if I knew Farsi, I would ask for my hat back.)

One other "moment" happened while we were there. I will tell you about it shortly.  But first, I want you to understand the state of my heart and my attitude.

We left, after about 90 minutes. And me, being the dainty, quiet woman I am, gave Zo an earful the entire way to the van.

"These are not refugees. These are animals."  

"The Syrians are better." 

"This people group is not cool. Not cool at all."  

"Not a single smile from a child. Not a thank you for a chocolate."

"Did you see that kid grab the pants out of my hand?!?"

"How in the heck to I blog this????? No one will EVER give us another donation to help refugees if I tell them what happened today. And I wouldn't blame them."

The entire way home, I was mad. But I also had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I knew what it was, but I couldn't voice it.  We got home, took the kids out for dinner, and settled in for the night. Still, the pit was there. Ever tugging. I tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore it.

You see, it was that girl. The one with the hat.....no.....with MY hat. She might have been sixteen years old. She was with the group that was stealing and grabbing. And she had my hat. Yes, she was shivering. She had no socks on.  Her clothes were a thin polyester material.  But she was really bugging me. She kept following me around. And asking for things.  But we couldn't communicate.  And then. She asked me for a jacket.  "No, I don't have one. I'm sorry."  While I thought to myself, "Now, go away! Stop staring and smiling at me!" She just stood there. Shivering. And she touched the sleeve of my jacket. And I was really mad.  But, I was taught well, and I smiled and said, "No, I'm sorry. I don't have a jacket for you."  Still she stared at me. And she did it. She tugged on my sleeve again. And I looked into her eyes and realized that she was asking for my jacket. And I walked away.

I knew it. The moment I did it. Sure, I had a ton of reasons why I didn't need to give her my jacket.  It's the only one I had. It's cold. I have to stay warm to stand here, and help the rest of these people, right?  Does she even really need it? Will she use it? Will my jacket end up on the side of the road, not being used by anyone (myself, included)?  She will probably toss it to the side, like many of them do, when it gets too hot and difficult to carry heavy jackets.

But, honestly, the biggest "reason" I repeated to myself was:  "She doesn't deserve it." 

That woman/child walked away, without a jacket, because I didn't think she deserved mine.  You see, I had judged an entire people group, based on one encounter with 50 of them.  And I had deemed them to be unworthy. Unworthy of our supplies. Unworthy of our help.  Unworthy of the chocolates. Unworthy of my hat. My jacket.....unworthy of my love.

I cried as I told Zo of my unforgiving heart.  I cried as I asked God to forgive me for my selfish and disgusting attitude. I cried as I realized that I lost the ability to show Love, at that moment, in that tent, to the people around me.  I cried because I knew that I couldn't ask that girl to forgive me. And I couldn't fix it. I couldn't find her, and give her the jacket.  I couldn't make it right.

And then Zo reminded me, that because of my broken heart and because of His great love for me, God had already forgiven me. Thank God for His wonderful work, even as I am still trying to accept it.

So please, hear my heart. The people this past Saturday had some major issues.  They weren't dignified, and polite, and "cultured" (whatever that means).  They grabbed things out of our hands. They stole from us and others. But that doesn't change the need. Actually, if anything, it solidifies the need.

The need for help.

The need for love.

Ultimately, the need for Truth.

And so, we press on.