Two very different life encounters touched my heart on the same day last week.
While the common thread was love, the two were in stark contrast…

A little boy’s love…

My daughter Liesel needed to be in the city until early evening and asked if I could pick up Flynn from care. When I arrived a very tired little boy was almost asleep on the floor surrounded by other children. His head was at the foot of a couch so I reached over from behind and tickled his hair. He turned around, saw me, and without a word climbed onto the couch and into my arms. He wrapped his arms tightly around my neck and gave me a hug that only a young child can give. He has given me many such hugs from a young age… the joy and deep love that surges through my heart every time never diminishes.

A little later, as we drove home, a voice from the back seat said, “I love being your kid (grandkid)”. Again he touched my heart with the innocent, uncomplicated, totally unconditional love of a child.

After we’d had a two course dinner (a bowl of Weetbix followed by a bowl of spaghetti!) my phone rang. Liesel was on her way home and we talked until she pulled up outside.

I said to Flynn, “Let’s go and meet Mummy at the front door!”. Flynn and I ran down the corridor and as we arrived at the door he said, “We can scare her!”. This was not quite what I had in mind so I suggested we yell “Surprise!” instead. Flynn responded with a precious alternative, “No, we’ll say ‘I love you!’” and, “You say it when I say it Grandad!”.

I squatted down next to him and we waited while Liesel got organized to come in. A car door closed outside. I looked at Flynn and said, “She’s coming!”. Flynn focused on the door with frequent quick glances in my direction. I’ll never forget the look on his face. He was glowing with excitement, his eyes were bright with joy, and his body was shaking as he could barely contain himself.

Soon a shadow crossed the window next to the door and the door opened. We both yelled, “I love you!” and Flynn wrapped himself around Mummy’s legs. I think Liesel melted on the spot.

How incredibly precious these moments are! The beautiful innocence and unfettered feelings of childhood pass so quickly… thankfully we have memories we can hold onto forever… provided we make time to be part of them.

An old lady’s sadness…

The other encounter occurred while I was visiting Mumma (Rosie’s Mum) at her retirement village earlier in the day.

While there I happened to sit next to a very elderly lady in a wheelchair. We got talking and she shared a little of her story over the last few days… She began with a smile, “My family came to visit on Sunday (Mothers Day) and we had such a wonderful time!”

Her face began to fall, “But since then I’ve been feeling flat.” I gently enquired why and she replied, “When I lived in independently in the village I had so many friends. Now that I’m in The Manor (the high care facility) and I’m restricted to a wheelchair I can’t move around on my own. The staff take me to the daily activities but I no longer see my old friends and it’s been difficult to make friends here.” I suspect her apparent deafness had a lot to do with this.

She continued, “Since Mother’s Day I’ve been feeling lonely and bored. I have a very nice room here but I spend so much time there alone. Very few of my family visit… most of them don’t come at all. I tried to contact one of my grandchildren two years ago but they never got back to me, so I thought I would just let them be.”

She was now quite sad. I had no words to relieve her sadness. Feeling very awkward the best I could manage was, “Yes, everybody is so busy these days, it seems they find it hard to make time to visit”. Knowing that all I’d done is tell her what she already knew, I added, “But that does not make it right”. I felt so inadequate and knew my words had only reinforced her sadness. But what else do you say??

The conversation continued a little longer but she soon drifted off onto a completely different topic.

My thoughts turned to what life must be like for Mumma, and the many other elderly people around her, all facing the same situation.

Isolation is such a problem for our elderly people. The wider family circle has long broken down in our broken society. Knowing I had no answers to offer left me with a sad heart and painful questions I want to answer.

I then thought about my own elderly years, still quite a way off, but inexorable in their approach… Will my experience be the same? What can I do now to make it different when I’m elderly?

And, food for thought… Will your experience be the same? What can you do now to ensure you don’t find yourself isolated with diminishing life quality in your elderly years?

The common thread…

All of us, young and old, have an inbuilt need to connect with others at a deep level; connection with family is especially important.

Deep connection is the essence of love and meaningful relationships. Lack of this connection stunts the growth of young children, causes elderly people to die, and creates a yawning vacuum within anyone in between.

But relationships cannot exist unless we are prepared to invest time.

We live in a society where everyone is under stress and time poor; there are so many demands, so many ‘important things we have to do’, and not enough time to do them all.

So what falls off the edge? Often it’s quality time with other people. Family get taken for granted, our children get displaced by our work, we put our elderly folk in ‘care’ homes where they risk becoming isolated and alone. Quality accommodation, good food and excellent medical care can never replace the one thing they really need… love in the form of deep connection with family and friends.

The bottom line is that all our loved ones, friends, family, young, old, need US.

I’m not aiming to create a sense of guilt or regret here. Neither of these help us resolve this problem. Instead we need to face the question of what (more correctly who… our children, the elderly, each other) is most important in our lives and how we can give quality time to those who need our time and our love.

Every relationship we have in life comes to an end at some point. The only time we have to invest in them is now.

Something worth all of us thinking about.

 

Ian James

© Copyright reserved
21-05-2017

Tomorrow would have been Rosie’s 60th birthday.
It’s not an easy time.

I’m keenly aware that Rosie’s facebook friends will receive a Birthday Reminder notification for her tomorrow. For many this will arrive unexpectedly and cause the grief of losing her to return.

I haven’t yet deactivated Rosie’s account as this would mean we could no longer access it. Rosie’s facebook page is a place where we can still share memories of Rosie and the feelings of joy and grief that come with those memories. It also captures the later years of her life… the tough cancer journey, important events with family and friends, funny life experiences, all wrapped up in her unfailingly positive, joyful approach to life.

Rosie’s page is an invaluable record of how she lived her out life motto…
“Live Well, Die Well”.

In the coming month I will arrange to have Rosie’s account memorialised. This will still allow us to post on her page but we will no longer receive birthday reminders.

This morning I unexpectedly came across Rosie’s address book.
I opened the first page and saw her written instruction at the very top…
A big asterisk tagged with “People to ring… when I reach heaven”.
She had then asterisked and highlighted peoples’ names throughout the address book to ensure I didn’t miss any of them.

It hit me pretty hard… this was one of the contact lists we had put together in the months before she died.

But it also reminded me yet again how much Rosie cared for so many people in so many ways… she wanted to make sure no-one was forgotten when the time came, including those with no access to email or facebook.

I was especially touched by the words “when I reach heaven”… Rosie’s unwavering faith in her God brought her deep joy and security in life. Death for her was not something to fear… it was not the end, but rather the beginning of a whole new life.

It reminded me of the quote she wrote out and stuck in the front of her Notebook…

For Rosie these were not just inspiring words, they were her guide to living life to the full… She indeed made her torch burn as brightly as possible… right to the very end.

 

Ian James
29th Sept 2016

 

 

A friend in need… Manaf…

I have a friend. His name is Manaf. He has been living with his pregnant wife, Qamar, and three young children in a Syrian refugee camp outside the city of Thessaloniki in Greece in terrible conditions for months.

The refugee camp is in a disused warehouse… broken windows, a concrete floor, lines of tents along the walls.

The warehouse floods in heavy rain. One night much of Manaf’s family’s bedding and their few possessions were saturated.

The camp facilities are rudimentary. A row of washbasins line an outside wall for basic sanitation and washing clothes. Waste water flows away in an open drain. A row of portable toilets line another outside wall. Overflow from the toilets runs across the concrete pavement.

The mosquitoes were very bad. Qamar’s legs were so covered with infected mosquito bites they feared their unborn child could be affected. Qamar is due in September. Manaf wants to take her to a hospital. They are hoping the birth is not difficult. They have no access to an ambulance.

In summer the warehouse became so hot that Manaf’s children were unable to sleep… now the cold winter is approaching.

Manaf’s youngest child, Minas, was born in a tent in an earlier refugee camp. Manaf feels sad that his daughter has never lived in a real home. He does not want the new baby to be born in a tent.

Why they left Syria…

Manaf and Qamar lived in Idlib, near Aleppo, a focus of intense fighting throughout the war. Manaf worked as a mobile phone maintenance engineer and a truck driver. When the communications network failed and his truck was destroyed he resorted to collecting scrap metal from the streets to survive.

One of Manaf’s brothers and 13 of his relatives were killed by aircraft bombing. Daily heavy shelling made work impossible and life intolerable. They left Idlib after their home was destroyed.

Manaf took his family to Turkey. Europe offered the hope of a new life for his family. It took three attempts to reach Greece by boat.

They almost drowned on the third attempt. The people smuggler said he would take 34 people. He loaded 40 adults and 38 children people on a rubber boat designed for 24. Part way across heavy seas flooded the boat. The engine failed, women and children were screaming, everyone was terrified, Qamar fainted. Then a large wave overturned the boat and dumped them all in the sea in freezing conditions. They thought they were going to die. After two hours in the water a German rescue team arrived and took them to safety.

Europe…

Manaf’s hopes for a new life in Europe were shortlived. Soon after they arrived the European borders unexpectedly closed leaving them trapped in the refugee camp in Greece.

Manaf is not allowed to get work and has run out of money. He can no longer provide for his family. He feels he has failed his parents and disabled brother back in Syria… they depend on money from him to survive. He believed he could get work in Europe to support them along with his own family.

Our response to other’s suffering…

The media constantly bombards us with images of war, devastation and human suffering. The number of refugees worldwide is estimated to be 65 million and growing.

When we see people suffering…

We feel pain… compassion is hard wired into us.
We want to help but we feel overwhelmed and powerless in the face of the magnitude of the problems.
We can’t bear to feel the raw pain of other people’s suffering indefinitely so we shut it down to protect ourselves.
We become immune to the plight of others.

But from time to time an image breaks through…

Like Omran Daqneesh, “the boy in the ambulance”, a 5 year old Syrian boy dug out of the rubble after his house in Aleppo was destroyed in an airstrike, his bloody face and clothes covered with dust… his stunned, blank expression tearing at our hearts.

We feel grief. We feel outraged. This little boy’s suffering grabs the raw nerve of compassion within us. But what can we do?? We know real people just like us are suffering but they are half a world away.

But when we turn off our screens they fade from our thinking.

But what if one day you woke up and Omran Daqneesh was sitting in your lounge room instead of the back of an ambulance?

What if you opened the front door and a refugee family was standing there? Homeless, no money to buy food, their clothes their only possessions?

Compassion breaks through…

The ‘front door’ to my home was a Facebook friend request. Normally I delete unsolicited requests but this time I was curious.

I ‘opened the door’ and found a refugee family standing there. Manaf and I started exchanging messages. I asked a lot of questions. It became very clear that Manaf and his family were in desperate circumstances.

How could I ignore them? They were no longer unknown faces of suffering in a remote country… I was exchanging personal messages with another human being living in inhumane conditions.

Nonetheless, I was wary. How could I be sure that Manaf was genuine?

I told Manaf I wanted to help but needed to verify his identity first. Manaf sent me a photo of his passport, other identity documents, and photos of the refugee camp. He also entrusted me with a copy of his wife’s passport and photos of her as well, asking that I not show photos of Qamar on facebook as this could bring shame on her family.

The photos of Manaf’s children showed the camp in the background. An internet search verified they were indeed in the Sondos camp.

I checked for aid agencies working in the camp and couldn’t find any. This was consistent with Manaf saying there were none working in the camp and their reliance on assistance from the army.

Taking a risk…

No amount of photos and documentation could be a 100% proof.

In most life decisions, the facts only get us so far… often our intuition is the final decider.

The more I communicate with Manaf the more I am convinced he is genuine.

Manaf’s grasp of English is not great… but his rudimentary use of words conveys a powerful message.
Manaf loves his family… this clearly shines through his facebook page and messages.
He is very reluctant to ask for help despite being in great need… he expresses both shame and a great deal of gratitude. (I’ve asked what he needs and how much it will cost before sending money… a couple of days later I receive photos of a smiling family with what they have managed to buy.)
Manaf cares for others despite his own circumstances… he bought two fans and gave one to his neighbour.
Manaf has a sense of social justice and openly campaigns against ISIS on facebook.

I have so much, Manaf has so little. I live in comfort and security. Manaf lives in terrible conditions with no security. My excess gives me security… but still it is hard to give it away.

The amount I could lose was minimal compared to the benefit I could provide.

What I’ve given so far has cost me one cappuccino a day for a few months, but it has provided Manaf’s family with life-changing essentials… nourishing food, a pushbike to save him walking 17km to town to get the food, mosquito protection for Qamar, and a fan for his children.

Out of the frying pan … into the fire?

Recently Manaf messaged me with a very tough decision. Four pregnant women in the camp had been offered small apartments rent free for 6 months by a benefactor with a big heart . Manaf desperately wanted to get his family out of the hell-hole.

But there are consequences….

They will not be allowed to return to the camp under any circumstances. So what happens in 6 months if he cannot pay the rent??

The camp provides food (subsistence level), some medical help and basic provisions. Manaf is not allowed to work so how does he feed and provide for his family?

They need basic furniture and bedding for the apartment .

They need to provide for the new baby (due very soon).

I asked him to estimate the cost of providing for his family… 7 to 8 euros (about $12AUS) a day. I doubt any of us could provide the basic needs of 2 adults, 3 young children and a baby for $84 a week!

I told him I could provide a third of this for a year and encouraged him to get his family out of the camp. A significant risk for him, but an opportunity that may not come again.

He chose to move into the apartment. A big step forward (hopefully)… but what of the future?

The Challenge…

Don’t let overexposure to suffering steal your compassion and make you immune.
Those who suffer are all real people like you and me.

Material wealth does not make us rich… it is the people we allow into hearts and lives. People in need may give us far more than we ever give them.

Am I asking you to help Manaf? Yes, but I’m not sure how best to approach it.

Yes, I want to appeal to your heart. If anyone is moved with a genuine desire to help then it will be greatly appreciated. A little from us can make a huge difference… it can even change other people’s lives.

However I don’t want to manipulate or pressure anyone. So if this not for you feel free to let it pass.

If you have questions feel free to ask. If you want to help please message me privately.

Manaf’s photos…

All the photos have been sent to me by Manaf or posted on his facebook page (except the Google maps image). They tell the story from his perspective.

I have tried to capture the essence of Manaf’s descriptions in the captions.
I’ve written the captions as if Manaf is speaking…

(Initially Manaf asked that I not share photos of his wife… he has now given me permission.)

Manaf and his family…

 

Meet my wife Qamar and our
youngest daughter Minas…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Qamar is pregnant… she is due in September.
I hope the birth is not difficult… we have no access to an ambulance…

 

 

 

 

My three precious children…
Yasser, Rose and Minas…

Minas was born in a tent.
She has never known a real home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why we left Syria…

The daily shelling in Idlib became relentless…
Our home and my livelihood were destroyed…
One of my brothers and 13 of my relatives were killed…

Idlib at night… these memories are distressing…

 

 

We left my parents and elder brother in Syria… there was no money to take them with us.

I am their only support but I am not allowed to work in Greece.

 

 

 

 

 

 

My brother has twin boys. He is disabled and in despair.
“They have stones and scraps to eat”…

The boat trips…

The three attempts were all made at night so Manaf has no photos of the trip. 

This photo was taken one hour before we left the Turkish city of Izmir. We were attempting to cross the Aegean Sea to Greece.

Part way the boat capsized in large waves. We were in the middle of the sea for 2 hours. We felt icy cold. We were terrified and felt on the verge of death.

We were saved by a German rescue boat and taken to Greece.

The Refugee Camp…

The refugee camp (bottom right) is in the industrial part of Sondos, outside Thessaloniki, Greece…

 

The front door of our home…
The shadows express how I feel…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rows of tents in a disused warehouse…
Broken windows, concrete floor…
It floods in heavy rain…

 

Our home…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Where our children sleep…

 

Our food…

 

Food provided by the camp…

Pasta one day…
alternates with rice the next…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One day the rice was rotten…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our health…

Manaf has an abscessed haemorrhoid from the camp diet.

 

My wife’s feet became so badly infected with mosquito bites… we were afraid for the safety of the unborn baby…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My children get sick too…
Minas suffers from asthma.
She was very hot…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was very distressing seeing her like this…

Facilities at the refugee camp…

 

Our washroom…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                       Open drains…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our toilets…

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chemically treated overflow…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our childrens’ bathroom…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                  “I love Minas so much!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Where do the children play?

 

Our children’s indoor playroom…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our backyard…

 

The children’s playground…
lots of safe, modern play equipment…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Providing help…

Manaf is reluctant to ask for help… he feels a great deal of shame.
When I have offered he and Qamar are incredibly grateful and send photos of what they buy…

Now I can feed my family with healthy food…

Fresh fruit and vegetables!

 

A fan to help my children endure the heat…

Sadly it was damaged when the warehouse flooded…

Manaf also has compassion for others. He bought a second fan to give to a neighbour.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thank you for my bike!
Now I don’t have to walk 17km to get food for my family.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Manaf’s call for justice and compassion…

Photos from Manaf’s facebook page… 

We could not stay in Syria…
We believed Europe would help… but the refugee camp is a hell-hole and we are treated like cattle.
We have found no humanitarian care in Greece…

Omran Dagneesh (left), “The boy in the ambulance” pulled from the rubble of his house in Aleppo.
Alan Kurdi (right), the 3 year old Syrian boy who drowned when his family tried to reach Europe by boat.

Meanwhile, world leaders keep talking…

Images that break through…

The images behind the “Choices for Syrian children” sketch on Manaf’s facebook page.

Omran Daqneesh and Alan Kurdi in real life (and death)…