Headed to Holland

Our last family was a large group of seven:  Young parents, Ahmet and Riva, with a five-month-old son, Hamudi, and two-year-old daughter, Canan.  The mom's sister, Rama.  The dad's brother and his pregnant wife, Samer and Omay.

From what we could piece together in their broken Turkish, two of them had been in Istanbul for quite some time, very likely working to save money for the trip to Europe, and all of them had been traveling from Turkey for about a month.  They were incredibly grateful for showers and beds and blankets, for privacy.  For undergarments and socks.  For lotion and soap and deodorant and razors.  Of course, for food as well.

The three ladies and I sat around the table late at night sharing social media profiles, smiling at photos, and just connecting as women.  When Gregory went to bed, they took off their scarves and relaxed.  One of the women showed me a picture of her in Syria and pointed out her nice long coat in the photo; I think she was a bit embarrassed about the shorter coat she was wearing out of necessity (a donation from the train station).

I spent about an hour with them back at the train station the next morning, helping them get medical care for the little ones.  Once again, the clinic was impressive.  I was thankful.

I got to stay with little Hamudi while his sister and parents were in the clinic.

They were all headed to Holland, they thought.  From what I can see on Facebook, I think they may still be in Germany.  I can't help but wonder how their story has continued to unfold.  And I wonder if they have continued reading the books we gave them...  They are in our thoughts and prayers.