Don't Forget the Greeks
It was Saturday. She doesn't work on Saturdays as she's a government employee with a "regular 9-5" job. But the refugees continue to arrive [by the hundreds] even on weekends, and the camp must continue to run. Besides, late Friday evening the office of the housing section for which she is responsible was moved in order to provide more housing for the vulnerable women and create space to include minors.
And so, though it was Saturday, Anna* came to work.
"Anna!" the women called over and over again.
They did not care that it was Saturday and that Anna wasn't supposed to be there. They called her to help with the broken toilet, they begged her for an extra apple, they interrupted her for new shoes and tried to convince her to give another blanket. She continued to work, building bunk beds, moving boxes of office supplies, verifying numbers with her countless lists, giving shoes and apples when she could.
I followed her into her office as we sought an answer together, a space just large enough for a desk with a computer, a small bookshelf and two chairs.
"How long have you been here?" I asked.
She started calculating. "Two years in March, I think," was her reply. "But you know," she continued, "One week here at camp is like a year somewhere else." I nodded, having just a slight understanding after just one week on the island and one day in camp.
"I started working in the section with minors," Anna continued. "The first two weeks were easy; I didn't have a specific job, so I played with the kids, I drew pictures, I basically had fun," she laughed. "Then the real work started. There was one boy, he was 16 and both of his parents had been killed in a bomb. He's the reason I came to work every day. He stood with eyes wide-opened, grasping the gate every day. He didn't sleep. Every morning I'd ask him, 'Did you sleep?' and every morning he shook his head no. He was too scared."
Sitting in Anna's office I was compelled to pray. Often we are heartbroken for the refugees when we think of the conditions at camp, the tragic stories of their lives, their dire needs and lack of Hope. I think of the other volunteers who labor day after day, hour after hour, seeking to love the refugees and care for them to the best of their limited abilities. But in this moment, sitting face to face with this Greek woman employed by the Greek government, I was reminded that it is people like Anna who [also] need prayer.
Day after day she works to alleviate a complex problem that has no solution. Hour after hour she is asked for things that she cannot give, no matter how badly she'd like. Camp is like a prison, legally it is a detention center.
Sometimes when I think of the refugee situation, I despair.
And yet, I have Hope knowing that "...this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison" (2 Corinthians 4:17).
But where do people like Anna find hope?
Pray for Anna. She works hard and does her job well, but this is an impossible job. May she find Hope and Peace in Jesus! Pray for the police. They, too, work hard to control an often tense environment where there are nearly 6500 people living in a space meant for 2500. Pray for the volunteers, all of whom are Christians at this particular camp. May we be a sweet aroma of Jesus, that the refugees and government employees alike would ask the reason for our Hope.
*Name has been changed for privacy
And so, though it was Saturday, Anna* came to work.
"Anna!" the women called over and over again.
They did not care that it was Saturday and that Anna wasn't supposed to be there. They called her to help with the broken toilet, they begged her for an extra apple, they interrupted her for new shoes and tried to convince her to give another blanket. She continued to work, building bunk beds, moving boxes of office supplies, verifying numbers with her countless lists, giving shoes and apples when she could.
I followed her into her office as we sought an answer together, a space just large enough for a desk with a computer, a small bookshelf and two chairs.
"How long have you been here?" I asked.
She started calculating. "Two years in March, I think," was her reply. "But you know," she continued, "One week here at camp is like a year somewhere else." I nodded, having just a slight understanding after just one week on the island and one day in camp.
"I started working in the section with minors," Anna continued. "The first two weeks were easy; I didn't have a specific job, so I played with the kids, I drew pictures, I basically had fun," she laughed. "Then the real work started. There was one boy, he was 16 and both of his parents had been killed in a bomb. He's the reason I came to work every day. He stood with eyes wide-opened, grasping the gate every day. He didn't sleep. Every morning I'd ask him, 'Did you sleep?' and every morning he shook his head no. He was too scared."
Sitting in Anna's office I was compelled to pray. Often we are heartbroken for the refugees when we think of the conditions at camp, the tragic stories of their lives, their dire needs and lack of Hope. I think of the other volunteers who labor day after day, hour after hour, seeking to love the refugees and care for them to the best of their limited abilities. But in this moment, sitting face to face with this Greek woman employed by the Greek government, I was reminded that it is people like Anna who [also] need prayer.
Day after day she works to alleviate a complex problem that has no solution. Hour after hour she is asked for things that she cannot give, no matter how badly she'd like. Camp is like a prison, legally it is a detention center.
Sometimes when I think of the refugee situation, I despair.
And yet, I have Hope knowing that "...this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison" (2 Corinthians 4:17).
But where do people like Anna find hope?
Pray for Anna. She works hard and does her job well, but this is an impossible job. May she find Hope and Peace in Jesus! Pray for the police. They, too, work hard to control an often tense environment where there are nearly 6500 people living in a space meant for 2500. Pray for the volunteers, all of whom are Christians at this particular camp. May we be a sweet aroma of Jesus, that the refugees and government employees alike would ask the reason for our Hope.
"I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord who made heaven and earth." Psalm 121:1-2
*Name has been changed for privacy
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