Storytelling
Reflection + transformation
WAIT.
Pheros isn’t waiting for anything anymore.
Pheros is a hollow-eyed 19 year old Syrian living in his family’s temporary housing in Marj, Lebanon, near the Syrian border. I met him on a recent trip to Lebanon. He lives with five siblings and mother and father in an unfinished concrete structure with two rooms amidst rows of tents full of other Syrian refugees.
My Syrian friend Yana* got married to Farid* just three months before she was resettled in Houston. Farid was unable to come over with her because he has not yet been approved for resettlement; they met after she had already started her application process with the United Nations, and were consequently on different timetables. Yana felt heartsick leaving Farid behind in Turkey.
Of my experiences with refugees, one of the most definitive was waiting in the emergency room with one of our friends. I received a text late in the morning that she headed to the ER, but we knew neither what hospital she was in nor her condition. After maybe an hour of trying to get in touch with her, we finally discovered—to our great relief—where she was. Apparently, she experienced so much pain the night before that she could not sleep. I headed to the hospital, and prayed that I would locate her quickly.
Often, while we are waiting, our mind is fixated on that moment in the future when the waiting is over. When you’re expecting a child, you spend hours daydreaming about seeing them face to face for the first time. If your spouse had some tissue removed to be biopsied, you just want to get to that moment when the results are in and the waiting is over. Refugees who have languished for years in camps long for the day that they receive the news of where their new home will be. We want the days to pass quickly. We want to rid ourselves of the anxiety of waiting and the feeling of helplessness.
Advent is a season of waiting, anticipating the coming of the Messiah and preparing ourselves to celebrate God’s presence among us. Probably because of my recent move to Texas, this year I find myself focusing on that last part: When will God make his home with us?
Since leaving my childhood home, I have lived in three different states, even another country. Every time I moved, whether for school or work, I had to start over. After each move, I hoped and waited for the time each new place would become home. At the same time, I mourned the loss of my old home, wondering when I would get to return. Even now I hope and wait and mourn.
My friend Eric fled West Africa to relocate to South Africa. Eric loves music and one of his favorite songs is called "Africa" by Toto. One day I asked Eric why he loved this song so much. He explained that the woman they are talking about in the song was to him a metaphor of his home being a distraction and the rest of Africa the place where he will find more beauty and salvation.
The immigrant experience is of course diverse but one theme that I have seen firsthand in my own network is that of waiting on the American immigration system. Two of my friends from church got married, Ashley* was documented and Mike* wasn’t. They had a beautiful wedding and they purchased their first home together.
Working for justice by building empowered community among refugees, immigrants, and local Houstonians
through practices of hospitality, mutuality, storytelling & inclusivity.
FAM Houston is a 501c3 nonprofit organization.
