A Fond Farewell at the Jordan

The third day of non-stop driving was to the Jordan border to sent off Azhin, Vanya, Donya and their mothers. This was my first real experience saying goodbye to kids and moms that I had gotten to know very well. Everyday, Azhin would call out my name incessantly, “Justiiiiin, Justiiiiin,” wanting to play. Um Donya (“Um” means “mother of”) had taught Donya (the baby) how to blow a kiss during her stay here, and all the Kurdish moms would laugh and joke with me because Donya would often blow kisses on command to no one but me. Azhin, Vanya, Donya, and I had many opportunities to bond through playing games and giving them attention in general, going with them to their doctor’s appointments, eating meals with them, and simply experiencing family life together. While I am sad to see them go, I am overjoyed knowing with full confidence that they will live normal happy lives and have been changed forever in many ways because of their stay here and that I personally had a part in it. I will cherish these memories of them, and will certainly ponder from time to time how they are getting on, and what they will be like when they grow up perhaps 10 or 15 years from today. When we loaded them on the bus to the other side of the border the mothers were crying but the last I saw of them they and their children were waving with smiles as the bus pulled away, certainly one of the most rewarding things I have seen so far.

Shards from above

Tell me is there a greater joy on this Earth than seeing sick and once dying children have the time of their life? Seeing shells of a childhood spring to life in vivacious smiles and laughter? Giving cherished gifts to those who have very little? Singing praise songs with those to whom the works of God are fresh and new? Seeing the faces of mothers who wept for weeks grinning ear to ear freely shouting their thanks to God? Sharing a banquet where citizens of opposing nations openly enjoy one another and 5 different language are spoken not with confusion, but unity, all with joy and praise on their lips? Being stuffed full of food around a table surrounded by new friends? Tonight I caught a glimpse of heaven.

Kurds at the Sea

The last two days we have brought nearly all of our Iraqi patients and their mothers to the Sea. Arazoo (16) and Hemin (21) the first day, and 4 of the young children, Azhin (3), Elaf (2), Vanya (9), and Wihaj (3) the second day when we found out the echocardiograms we thought were scheduled for them were in fact tomorrow. Rather than waste the 2-hour trip back and forth to Jerusalem we thought it would be a good opportunity to take them to the sea. You wouldn’t think much of an outing like this except that for people native to Northern Iraq have probably never seen a lake, let alone a body of water like the Mediterranean. It’s quite an experience to witness someone do something for the first time, in fact I think this must be the satisfaction parents get when they watch their children grow up. No longer enjoying the activities themselves so much but perhaps instead enjoying to an equal extent their children experience the same joy they did growing up. This time my joy was not limited to the children even, as even the mothers had a sense of awe at this body of water that to them is brand new. Watching very reserved grown women display such excitement can't help but make you smile. Neither Hemin nor Arazoo cared to even touch the water, but Hemin was happy to stroll the beach and take picture after picture, while Arazoo spent most of the time collecting sea shells to take back with her. The next day with the little kids was even better as both they and their mothers were even less reserved about having fun, getting their feet wet, and playing in the sand. Having never seen seashells before I had the pleasure of showing the little ones what they were. Vanya and Azhin enjoyed collecting them as well. In spite of all the difficult feelings I am processing it was a great day today.