When volunteering to help out at the Samaritas office earlier on in the week, I learned of two New American (refugee) families who each needed transportation to Children's Hospital in Detroit. Being in between jobs right now I have more time available than usual so I signed up to help. By the time Friday rolled around only one of the families still needed a ride so I received their information and plotted my route. I was a little nervous about being able to communicate since I knew the mother only knew a little English, but I was excited to be able to help.
Upon arriving at their home I was greeted warmly by the father. The mother came to the door, small child in her arms, smiled and said "Jessica? Hospital?". I smiled and confirmed. By this time another young child is standing next to me, beautiful big brown eyes looking up into mine, sweet little smile on her face. I smile at her and introduce myself. She beams and does the same. 4 years old. My heart melts a little.
We head to my van and secure the appropriate car seats. It's now that I realize that the small child in the mother's arms is severely handicapped. Unable to even hold her own head up, tiny legs lying limp and unused, the only seemingly voluntary movement she's able to make is to bring her hand to her mouth to suck on it. I thank God I still have my 5 point harness car seat. I help adjust the seat belt as she is so small I need to tighten it as far as I can get it to go. I readjust her head and push her deep brown curls out of her eyes. 3 years old. My heart breaks a little.
We don't really talk much on the ride to the hospital as it's hard to beat the language barrier when you have to keep your eyes on the road and the mother (I'm going to call her "Gratitude") has to sit in the seat next to her 3 year old (I'm going to call her "Love") so she can keep her head from falling forward. I figure this is what an Uber driver feels like. We arrive at the hospital and I manage to park in the world's tightest parking structure without damaging any vehicles. It's a win.
I've been to this hospital before with one of my own daughters, so I remember that the elevator system is rather confusing. This does nothing to stop me from taking us to the wrong level immediately however, so there goes the illusion that I know what I'm doing! We figure it out with the help of a parking lot attendant however and make it inside the main lobby. I ask Gratitude if she knows where she is going, and she does not, so we head to the information desk. It's here where I start my role as advocate or, more accurately called, clumsy non-interpreter. I give the woman at the desk the family's name, she sends us on our way. We reach the appropriate office and I approach the registration desk. As the man behind the desk starts explaining the paperwork we need to fill out, he offers us a copy of one form in Arabic. One form out of five. "Better than nothing!" I say, then we sit down in the waiting room to try to fill the forms out. Surprisingly, we get it done with little trouble (The whole time I forget that I downloaded the Google Translate app on my phone for this day. I never think to bring it out. Not once.). Shortly thereafter a nurse calls Love's name and, Praise God!, this wonderful nurse starts speaking to Gratitude in Arabic. We establish what is going to be done and that I am going to be here to drive them back home when it is finished. I head back into the waiting room while Gratitude, Love, and the 4 year old I'll call "Light" headed for the MRI machine.
After about an hour and a half the family re-enters the waiting room, surprising as that was half the amount of time I was told it would take. Everything is all set so we head back out to the parking structure designed by a fan of Smart Cars and loaded ourselves back into the van. Light could not be more excited as she was gifted a purple child's tea set by someone at the hospital. She hugs it to her chest, giggling and smiling, chatting constantly. She's munching on graham crackers she also got from the hospital and Gratitude hands me an unopened package and says "Please, eat.". I'm touched she thought of me. We smile at each other as I thank her and take the crackers. My heart smiles a lot.
As we pull out I suddenly hear some Arabic man singing behind me. It's Gratitude's phone. I hear her speaking softly. A prayer. It's brief but beautiful. I have no idea what it said, but I love the sound. Sacred.
Upon arrival at the family's home, Gratitude invites me into their home for coffee. I excitedly accept, thanking God that the appointment took half the time it should have so that I still had time before needing to go pick up my own children from school. Gratitude's husband, who had been out on a driving lesson, was home again (I'll call him Peace), and we all sat in the living room drinking small cups of strong, earthy coffee and getting to know one another as best we could. Gratitude, originally from Jordan, had come here from Syria 2 months prior. As she spoke to me, insisting I eat another of the chocolates from the dish she had placed before me, she translated for Peace who speaks no English and repeatedly wiped and kissed the face of Love as she laid on the couch beside her. Light was busy delightedly serving everyone tea from her new tea set. Gratitude asked me something about breakfast, which I thought to be very random as it was after 1 in the afternoon. She says something to Peace in Arabic and he disappears into the kitchen. Shortly after he reemerges with a plate of chicken shawarma and a bottle of water and I realize she was trying to ask me if I'd like to have lunch. Gratitude smiles and tells me "please, eat!". I obliged her happily. So good. We talked about the food. She was so happy I liked it. Next thing I know she's bringing me a can of Hawaiian punch. It's like she knew how much I love beverages. I drink and eat and we talk. Peace was a auto mechanic in Syria, but he's having trouble finding work here. Light "paints" my nails with a bubble wand she's brought out to show me. We laugh and pretend to put makeup on each other. Everyone laughs. Children are one of our many common denominators. My heart nearly bursts.
The time comes when I have to leave. I'm overwhelmed by their warmth and hospitality. I feel I have made new friends and I make a note to let Samaritas know I want to help this family out again so we can build this relationship. Gratitude obviously feels it too, as I try to communicate that I hope to see her again soon, she says "you can come here everyday". Peace looks at me and says "thank you", yet again. Light giggles and waves, giggles and waves, then suddenly disappears into the house and comes running back out to hand me yet another can of Hawaiian punch. Gratitude and I both laugh as I thank both her and Light for their generosity. I think on how isolating being a New American must be, despite it being "much better" than the situation Gratitude's family had found themselves in before coming here. My heart aches for them.
The ride to get my kids was full of emotions. From joy to sorrow, smiles to tears. My world had grown again and I was struggling to process it all. Then I hear of what the now leader of my country has done to ban refugees, and I have to fight off despair. What will become of Gratitude, Peace, Love, and Light in this new and more hostile country? I struggle to understand how anyone claiming to believe in God could do such a monstrous thing. I wonder if he's ever sat down with a New American family and genuinely listened with a heart to find what unites us rather than divides us. If he's ever experienced the hospitality of people who want to share with him what little they have because they are fellow human beings, longing for connection, and understanding. I'm guessing the answer is no, as if it were otherwise, he wouldn't dream of signing that order. That's the danger of living in your own bubble. That's what happens when your focus is only on "your own".
We can't let our doors be slammed in the face of fellow human beings who desperately need our help. We can't be those people who turn away and choose indifference. Please, call, write, march, advocate, and volunteer to show this new leader that We The People believe in an America where there is justice and liberty for all, no matter where your country of origin may be. Remember, he works for US. Not the other way around. Make your voice heard and, more importantly, get up and make your presence felt. Help in anyway you can, and we ALL can.
Every choice you make determines the life you live. What will you choose to do now?
Sign a petition! http://www.unhcr.org/refugeeday/petition/
Volunteer! From office work to teaching ESL, there is something for everyone! www.samaritas.org
