Dreams speak to us sometimes if you are willing to listen...
I woke up this morning very confused.
Confused because I was still in my bed, in my home, in my country...
We take those things for granted, at least most of us do.
I had a dream that I had to flee Lebanon, chaos... war... very loud noises.
My age:15 years old at least, still a teenager ... today my daughter's age.
I did not have responsibilities, no family, no husband, no children.
My parents were vaguely present in the dream.
I remember we had to flee to a neighboring country: Syria.
We were not welcomed. We were treated like dirt, like cattle in a crowded field of animals.
Our car, which is the one I own now, a 4-wheel was packed with comforters and clothing.
We passed the borders with resilience.
I arrived wearing a summer dress. The village looked crowded.
A woman came to me and said, "hurry the supermarket shelves are emptying by the minute, don't forget to buy peanut butter."
Strange!
I felt so insecure for I felt unwanted, lost and confused.
What future did I have here or anywhere else?
I was a refugee in a foreign land.
Unwanted.
Sad.
Miserable.
Was this dream God's way of giving me empathy, quietly in the middle of the night?
I am not a refugee.
Yet, I can relate to those who are living as one today in my country.
May God give me and others the strength to make a difference in their lives: men, women and children alike.
It was a horrible feeling to be in this situation.
I felt it.
I have empathy.
I can walk in their shoes.
Can you?
Showing posts with label Being a War Refugee. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Being a War Refugee. Show all posts
Monday, January 27, 2014
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