Zivotot e Ubav (Life is Beautiful, in Macedonian)

"This is a simple story....but not an easy one to tell."

Giosue Orefice 

Life is Beautiful (1997)

There are some stories that need to be told.  

Stories of hope in the midst of tragedy. Stories of joy when the sadness is almost suffocating. 

This is one such story. I don't know why God saw fit for me to be the one to share it; however, the privilege is not one I carry lightly. I pray I share it well.

Life is Beautiful (1997)

Years ago, as a young mother, I watched an Italian movie called, "Life is Beautiful".  I shouldn't say I "watched it." Because that isn't entirely true.  Through much of the movie, I couldn't actually see anything, because I was sobbing hysterically.  (If you haven't seen it, this post will contain spoilers.)  The movie is the story of a Jewish man and his son, who are faced with the horrors of being taken captive and placed in a concentration camp during Nazi Germany.  In order to shield his young son from the trauma, the loving father convinces his son, Giosue, that their time in the camp is merely a game. The climactic moment is when, while being marched to his death, the father realizes the son is watching, and begins walking in a silly way, while leaving his son with one last wink.  It is a beautiful story.  And very difficult to watch.

Yesterday, while at the refugee camp, in Gevgelija, I witnessed another father, making his young daughter laugh, in order to help shield her from what had happened to them and the pain the small family was experiencing. 

I had seen the family earlier in the afternoon. A man, his wife, a daughter (6 years old), and another child that I couldn't see well, because he was bundled up and his father was carrying him. I commented to Zo, as I was handing out chocolates to children waiting in the lines, that the child was very big to be carried, and that something must be wrong with him. But they were one family, in a line, of hundreds, and we kept walking - there were so many children in the line...

When we saw them again, they were sitting on the ground, outside the Children's Tent.  The mother was now holding the bundled child, while the little girl skipped around, smiling and humming.  Zo asked them where they were from.  This is their story, as told to us by the father...it's not a direct quote, but I will write from his perspective, for flow and to make it easier to read.

Yes, there are so many people coming.  We are from Syria. It is very bad there, in Syria. It's not good. We left.  We went to Turkey and then got to the boats.  

The boats are made for 40-50 people. But we were 267 people, and they put us on the boats.  My family had no life jackets. None. 

And then the boat went down. We were all in the water.  All of us. 267 people.  There were people who didn't make it. 26 people died. Some of them were children. They were floating all around us. Fathers. Brothers. Children. 

We were in the water for one hour and ten minutes.  No life jackets. And then two Turkish boats came and took us out of the water. After one hour and ten minutes. It was too long for my son. He is four years old. In 6 months, he will be five.  It was too much water for him. It was too long. 

We saw a doctor in Greece. He said he will be good in a few days, probably.  But, for now, he cannot walk because his legs are bad.  They are swollen very big and they hurt him so much to touch them.  And his eye (showing us his eye - where all the blood vessels were burst). It was too much water. He was too little. One hour and ten minutes in the water was too long. We must carry him until he is better. 

We must make it to Serbia and then to Germany. 

We took them inside the tent, and found a baby wrap that someone had donated. I had no idea how to use 3 yards of fabric to attach a child to his father.  But I knew someone who does! So, I sent a text to my friend, Angie (in America), who quickly responded with the link to a website with pictures to follow.  (Isn't technology amazing?!? Standing in a refugee camp in Macedonia, having a friend in America help a Syrian family). We tried every possible way the website showed, to wrap the father/son. We weren't sure if it would work.  But we couldn't practice with the son, because of his pain. So, the father asked his daughter to try it out. She was very nervous.  And then, in a moment that mirrored the father in Life is Beautiful, that loving father began made a game out of putting her in the wrap.  By the time we were done, she was giggling, and all fear was gone from her face.

The wrap wouldn't work. Any way we tried it, it would put pressure on his legs. I was desperate to figure out a way to make something work. And the father kept telling me, "It's ok. Don't worry. It's ok." Can you imagine? This man, who had been through so much, was focused on helping me not to worry. He was all smiles. And I fought back tears.

I asked him what else they needed. He asked, if possible, for some shoes for his son.  Because of the swelling, he was unable to wear his tennis shoes. I was so happy that we had brought a pile of soft, winter shoes.  I found a size that I thought would work.  The mother was so happy because they were soft. I gently held up his leg, while he laid on the wooden pallet, tears silently streaming from his eyes. His mother tried her best to put the shoes on his feet, as carefully as possible. I could feel the tension of his skin, which was stretched tight from the swelling, through his sweat pants.  He smiled, as the tears fell.  One shoe on.  Attempting the next foot brought cries and begging for us to stop.  The mother was so upset. She looked up at her husband, unsure what to do.  He smiled at her, with so much kindness, and told her not to worry.  "Tomorrow he will be better."  He told her to leave one shoe on, put the other in their backpack, and they would try again, "tomorrow."

One of the volunteers came in, at that moment, with a stroller. I have no idea where she was able to find one, but honestly, I don't care.  It was a miracle.  The relief on the parents' faces when they saw it is indescribable.  We carefully placed the little boy in the stroller.  His sister buckled him in.  He was all smiles.

I stuffed two more chocolates in their pockets.We wished them a safe journey. The father placed his hand on his heart and wished us farewell.

Zo and I walked out of the tent, toward our van.  But we aren't the same people that walked in.