Art projects, with a lesson in humility

Hello friends!

 

Today was day 3 in the refugee camp in Bicske. There have been gallons of coffee and tea prepped and served, hundreds of sugar cubes given out to sweeten those cups, and 12 full hours spent teaching and learning and growing and loving these beautiful, amazing people. As we approach tomorrow, our last day in the camp, we are steeling ourselves for the unavoidable heartache that will come with having to leave these souls we have come to know.

 

The English classes have been incredibly successful over these past 3 days. Blake and Liz took their beginners class on a "field trip" today, walking around outside and pointing out objects such as trees, streets, and buildings, giving their students a real-life application of the words they've been learning. Ken and Jay have been building relationships with the students in their advanced class, discussing everything from job interviews to internal organs, giving the students the tools they need to participate in an English society (with a little extra instruction on "Texan English"). Cathi and I, however, have had a different role during the past 3 days.

 

She and I have been running the "art table." We've laid out paper, colored pencils, markers, and crayons, to provide a place for the women and children to be and participate while the men are in class. Having this table was a new idea, because although we offer the classes to everyone, culturally it is the men that take the classes, and the women and children do not participate. We wanted to provide a place where the women and children could feel invested in and could feel like they were a part of things. But you know what they say about best-laid plans…(here's a hint: they go awry).

 

Each day has been slightly different. For day 1, our table was full of adult men, each one carefully and purposefully drawing their country's flag, or drawing symbols of peace. Day 2, we had mostly children, some that drew whatever their hearts desired, but others that followed the pattern of the older men, painstakingly and proudly drawing symbols of their countries. Today, day 3, we had a mix of both, as well as a mix of subject matter. I could write pages and pages on these 3 days, but instead I'm just going to talk about what stood out to me the most, otherwise I would have to write y'all a novel.

 

Honestly, these 3 days have completely shattered the cultural expectations that I had coming into this trip. Because the refugees are predominately Muslim, I expected them to fit the stereotype: extreme, dismissive of women, haughty, and fiercely religious. However, the time I've spent with them has completely changed my understanding. These people are respectful, gentle, kind, modern, and open. They just want to live a life free from persecution and fear. I expected that they would look down at our art table, seeing it as something that was for children, and I definitely expected them to be dismissive of me, a young white American girl. It has been the opposite. I've been so surprised at the amount of interest they've shown in the art. They all want to draw, color, and write stories. Each one then wants to show me their work, and receive affirmation from me that I like it, and that it was good. These 3 days have been incredibly, incredibly humbling for me. Spending time with these people and realizing that they are like me. They want the same things I do. They have to fight for liberties and life that I just take for granted every day. It's so easy to distance ourselves from this refugee situation from the safety of our homes and country. But after spending time with them, talking to them, drawing with them, laughing with them, how can I ignore this? How can we separate ourselves from these people? They're real people, with real hearts, and real hurts. They've spent months walking across countries, risking death every day, being robbed over and over, being told by country after country that they're not wanted. And then, as they end up in a camp in Bicske, Hungary, thousands of miles from home, with nothing, and all they want from me is affirmation that they've created something good. That their pictures are good. That I, a young white American woman, likes their pictures. That a person would take the time to compliment them, affirm them, let them know that someone cares. And I can do that, just by drawing with them. And giving them a thumbs up when they show me their pictures.

 

There is so much hurt here, so much pain, so much heartache, and it's easy to be discouraged. To feel like we can't really make a difference, that we're not really helping. But that's not true. God is here. He's bringing joy to this camp. He's bringing love. I'm so blessed that I get to be a part of the amazing team that God chose to use for this. Anything we can do, no matter how small, can be monumental for God's kingdom. That is what I'm trusting in. That I am merely a tool, being used by God to bring life to a place of darkness and heaviness, even if I can't see past that sometimes. It is so humbling, and such a blessing. God is so, so good.

 

Thank y'all so much for your continued prayers! We love and miss you!

 

- JM