I volunteer with an organization called Gathering Humanity. We are just a bunch of moms... some older, some younger, some somewhere in between. But the one thing we have in common is we feel compelled to help those who are vulnerable. And some of the most vulnerable people in the world are refugees. So that is who we help. We literally gather love, kindness, resources, time, compassion, furniture, friends, and hygiene kits, meals, groceries, etc. and we distribute them to beautiful people who are arriving in our country from refugee camps. We don't know these people and often we never even meet them but we go to their little (I mean tiny) apartments, in areas none of us would ever choose to live, and we pepper them with as much love, kindness and goodwill as we can till it is no longer an undesirable apartment but a home full of as much love as we can leave behind.
Over the years, I have had different emotions overwhelm me as I have left each apartment. I remember leaving a single Afghan mom of 7 in a 2 bedroom apartment in an area that terrified me. The people mulling around that complex were harsh and scary looking. She had 6 little girls and a teenage son and I couldn't imagine them being able to go outside or play or explore. I felt scared for them. They didn't speak any English and though we left as much love as we could, I worried how long it could last... What would they do? Who would help them? How scary must it be to be that mom?
Another family, this one from Cuba, left me feeling frustrated and homesick for them. The young dad was a dentist and had been basically pimped out by his government to another country to work. The money he made went back to his government. Not to him or his family. He missed his wife and daughter terribly and eventually applied for asylum so he could be reunited with his family. Unable to return to his country and with the hope of a better life here, they had fled to the US. The father is working on a construction crew for minimum wage now because he isn't licensed to practice dentistry in the US. And the wife had to leave her 4 year old daughter with a lady she met in the apartment complex, all day, every day so she could work in a warehouse to pay the bills. And they desperately missed their family in Cuba but they could not visit them. Who knows when they would see each other again? And that is how their life is every day... frustrating, sad, lonely.
Some of these apartments are roach infested, some have waterlogged walls and mold. Most of them are fairly awful and rented to refugees who have no credit and no deposit because no one else wants them. Our goal is to make them a little less harsh. A little more inviting.
I have been trying to trust God more to help me help Him. It is hard sometimes to try to juggle all the things I do and then take on big projects like these. So I make deals with God and I move forward. The deals look like this: You tell me what you want me to do, I'll do it and You help me out with the things that are too much for me. And it works pretty well - most of the time.
I'll give you an example. I had signed up to do 2 setups in one day which is a lot but there were no other leads available. I was, so I agreed to do them but I was stressed about it. I moved forward with faith that God was there for me. I arranged 8 volunteers to do food - 4 for the Pakistani family and 4 for the Congolese family. 2 would buy groceries and 2 would make a hot meal for the day the refugees arrived. And I tried to gather helpers to set up the apartments. Apartment set up volunteers are harder to find because of the time and commitment it takes. Well, I could only find 2 helpers and my parents. And I was super stressed. My parents can't lift or carry heavy furniture so I was left with just a couple helpers when I really needed 8.
As I tried not to stress out, I said a prayer and 3 more volunteers committed to coming. Yay. It was great and I stopped worrying. The morning of the set up, those 3 cancelled... but at that point, I couldn't do anything about it. We just had to go and do our best with who we had to help. And, like always, we ended up getting it all done with no problem.
God knew we could handle it without those volunteers that day but I didn't. He gave me the gift of thinking we had help so I would not obsess about it all week. It just makes me realize that, over and over and over again, God knows us and loves us and is there for us when we lean on him. He knew I needed reassurance that we had enough help, so he gave that to me. Even though that help didn't end up coming, it was a comfort to me to think they were until I could see that we were ok without them. God sees up ahead and strengthens us and makes us more than we are.
Another miracle was when a Pakistani family arrived several days earlier than anticipated. I had to ask my volunteers to have their food ready the very next day and one of the volunteers couldn't swing it. No problem, we'll work it out. Not knowing how I could squeeze that into my day, I prayed and asked God to show me how to get it done. No sooner had I said amen, A lady messaged me and said her mom was in town and wanted to help. What could she do? Well, that was quick. Thank you God - and here is what she can do... : )
It seriously happens all the time like that with this work. I repeat to myself over and over that God Will Provide - and he does.
Another hard part of the work that I mentioned earlier is that I worry and worry about the refugees.
I worry about where they are and about the type of people who surround them.
I worry about their kids and what kind of life they will have in a place where they don't speak the language at all.
I worry they will be taken advantage of or neglected.
I worry if they will feel scared, sad, lonely.
I worry if they will be accepted and if they will be safe.
I worry and worry and worry.
God knows I worry and I imagine that He doesn't want that for me so he speaks peace to my mind so I don't get lost in worry. This happened so beautifully one day when I was setting up an apartment for a Congolese family of 8. The apartment complex bordered I-17 and was one big pile of rock. There was not a tree or bush or flower to be seen anywhere. There was a metal swingset in the courtyard surrounded by a sea of rock. It was so uninviting and stark. Like a playground on the moon... ugly and bare.
We entered the TINY apartment (the entire living space -kitchen and family room was the size of the entry in our home) and there were roaches everywhere. Coming out of the sinks, the cracks in the baseboards, in the fridge?!? - everywhere. The apartment was dirty and stinky and dark. And we set to work. Cleaning, installing, trying to paint those walls with some love. We had a chair for each of the 8 family members and we couldn't fit them all in the apartment. It was so small.
I couldn't stop worrying about the family that was coming... About half way thru, I was out front grabbing some supplies and 3 older kids and a bunch of younger kids came over to me. We started chatting and they began asking me questions:
"Who is moving in?"
"Where are they from?"
"Do they speak Swahili or Spanish?"
"Are there kids my age?"
"Do they know that we will teach them English if they don't know it?"
"We will show them around."
"We teach English classes at night with our parents."
"We collect old computers so they can come to our apartment if they need to use one."
"I help with an organization who helps refugees get computers to learn."
!!! And on and on they chattered. And God gave me the tender mercy of bandaging up my sad heart. And he helped me see. I began to see that God has not forsaken these people - he has put them in a place where they will be accepted and cared for by his children. Those little kids spoke peace to my heart and I invited them in (as if they couldn't see the entire apartment from the front door...) and showed them around and told them about the family who was coming.
And I thanked God for giving my heart a break from worry - I needed that.
And so it goes that God gives us what we need when we need it if we turn to Him.
I'm grateful for service and volunteering. It is like lifting weights. You lift and it hurts - and you break the fibers of your muscles as you strain - and you are sore and can't walk for a couple days, but when you heal, you are stronger and your muscles have more mass. Bigger muscles that can then lift heavier burdens than they could before. Volunteering creates something in me, in my heart, that is bigger and better and stronger than it was before. It is often uncomfortable and leaves me tired but I am ALWAYS happier and stronger because I did it. It is my drug. It is a gift from God to be able to see His hand, hear His voice, see as He sees, feel more than I felt the day before. As my heart breaks for others, the fibers of my heart heal and create more capacity to love.
My dad always laughs and says that I must love to volunteer so much because I am from Tennessee and it is the "Volunteer state"... Maybe he's right. Love you dad. Or maybe it is just selfish. I like to feel good and feel stronger and more capable of handling what life throws at me. And serving does that for me.
