Today’s guest post is by Kate Connelly.
My junior year of college, I had the privilege of studying abroad in Brussels, Belgium. I had so many amazing experiences, from attending a film festival at the European Parliament to seeing the largest collection of dinosaur bones in Europe. I traveled to the Netherlands to see The Hague and to Germany to meet one of my dad’s childhood friends. However, of everything I got to see and do, there is one experience that stands out.
I studied abroad through the ISA program and the directors, Matilda and Paula, or as we called them Ma and Pa, would sometimes set up activities for us around the city. One day they sent out an email inviting us to meet them at St. Catherine’s Cathedral for a service opportunity working with refugees. We arrived at St. Catherine’s and were greeted outside the doors by Ma holding a basket filled with oranges and cups of tea. She handed out the goods and told us to go pass them around and chat with those inside. She explained that the refugees were mostly from Afghanistan. The majority of them were young men who were waiting to see if they would be granted asylum. They did not have papers, so they could not work; they were completely dependent on the charity of others for food and shelter.
St. Catherine’s is no longer an active church but another one of the beautiful cathedrals of Europe that are preserved for tourists. However, no tourists would be visiting St. Catherine’s. The pews had been removed and had been replaced by rows of tents. We awkwardly began to walk around, passing out tea. Those that knew English greeted us warmly. Eventually a group of the refugees invited us into their tent. We were out of tea, but they insisted that we drink some that they had. They also offered us sugar-covered dates. As I took a date out of the box, I noticed that it was covered in Arabic writing and I wondered if they had brought these dates all the way from their home country.
One of the volunteers asked them their story. They told us about living in fear as a war that did not concern them was raged all around them. They told us about the journey from their homeland to Brussels, about watching their friends die as they tried to flee. They told us about the hope they had for a better life and the disappointment they faced at being seen as a burden. They explained how the authorities had taken their papers and how they wished they could work. Surprisingly, though, they were not bitter. When we were finished, we went outside to play soccer. Even though I missed almost every kick, they continued to pass me the ball. They clearly knew how to work as a team. After all, they only had each other.
That was the only day I saw the St. Catherine’s Refugees. I asked Pa what happened to them, but she never wrote me back. I think and pray for them often and thank God for the opportunity to meet them. They touched my life more then I possibly could have touched theirs. They taught me that no matter how difficult life circumstances may be, it is possible to hold onto hope. They taught me that even when everything seems to be against you, if you hold on to relationships, you can make it through. They taught me that even though the news portrays the Middle East in such a dark light, many people there are just like I am. They want to live a prosperous life and are not entangled with their governments.
I also learned to see the world in a more positive light. The St. Catherine’s refugees and the volunteers that work with them are not reported about in the news. They are not talked about in government circles (mind you this was before the Syrian refugee crisis). All over the world people are reaching out to each other. You don’t have to travel all the way to Belgium. Sometimes all it takes is offering someone a cup of tea and a smile.