of course you want to see them

I am not completely sure how i ended up in this tent.

 With this older couple that have recently fled their home. My mind slowly mulls around the thoughts that they endured 5 years of war up until this moment. I ask myself what was the breaking point. What moved them from leaving their homes and lives and everything they know after they have endured so much already.

  Surrounded by violence, controlled by a group that everyone fears. Constant threat of violence and death and punishment. Somehow it had risen to a boiling point and they fled. A small group of about 20 fled in the cars they could all muster up together, they went an extremely round about way, so they could avoid violence and abductions.

 Even so, one of the families with their caravan, got arrested at a check point. They have no idea why and they have not seen them since. They are using the words kidnapped. I am sitting with a couple who have lived through bombs, buildings collapsing in front of them, no food, militant groups raiding their homes for food and resources. And then a family getting kidnapped on the road as they fled. They are laughing and drinking tea and slowly, slowly recovering from this insane and other-wordly level of trauma.

 The mother, the matriarch, her voice starts to crumble and tears fill her eyes. They have been in Lebanon for three weeks but their sons have not been to see them yet. Their sons live in the South of Lebanon, hours away, but more importantly multiple check points. I am assuming that the son's papers are expired and they fear getting caught and being thrown in prison.

 I sit with my heart just broken for this mother who endured so much. She packed up what she could carry, traveled for 4-5 days on a  road full of militant groups that could steal, kill or take from  them for no reason. She risked everything, she watched a family be taken. One of her driving factors was seeing her sons, who she had not seen in 5 years. And yet they had not come.

 She keeps covering her face with her hand. wiping the tears and yet wiping off her whole face. It feels like she is trying to wipe away the disappointment and pain. the memories. the loss.

  My friend has brought me here to encourage her. To pray for her and release hope and assure her that her sons will come as soon as they can. I want to. But i feel myself reaching really deep. My heart feels so sad and heavy and broken for her. I am sitting, I am with her. I want to release hope, but not something flippant or dismissive.

  I am praying. Not valiant, courageous prayers,  but desperate and intense pleas to a God of hope who does not forget one of his sheep. Who sees every tear we have cried. Who sees the desires of our hearts. I validate how true and right her desire to see her sons is. And that God sees this. I pray for a miracle that her sons would be able to come that week to see her.

    She is so thankful. Tears are still filling her eyes, but she smiles and thanks me. I smile and tears fill my eyes too.  My heart wrestles with the reality that I will never truly know what she has walked through, and yet my heart also is so deeply impacted by the pain she is living in.