Written April 25, 2019

Dear friends, 

I met Razia and her sister, Zulaika, in 2014...

Refuge was a little more than an idea, an idea that needed funds to get off the ground. So, a few of us decided to do small coffee pour-over events in people's homes, tell the story, and ask for money. Simple. And—drip by drip—it worked.

Razia and Zulaika joined us in that effort. They had been here 25 days, after a transition from Pakistan (not their home - no refugee makes it here directly from home) to Savannah to Clarkston. In the process of learning how to do a pour-over, making coffee for generous friends, and stamping cups at my kitchen table, we became friends. 

Like many of our refugee friends, both Zulaika and Razia eventually found work, went to school, got busy supporting their families, and moved on. We lost touch. 

And then a couple of weeks ago, Razia reached out. We met a week later at Refuge. And, as always, I was stunned by the beauty of the life Razia and Zulaika have created out of the ashes of their incredibly painful refugee experience. 

Back then, none of us knew what was ahead. I ignorantly posted a photo of them and got a kind but swift message from a friend explaining that posting their photo could, at that time, endanger them. They could not talk about the pain they'd been through. 

Today, both young women share their stories openly, not so much as a release but more as a way to recycle their hard experiences to benefit others.

When Razia and I reconnected recently, she came with a gift: this painting. She asked me what I saw in it. 

"I see a struggle to rise," I said. 

"Yes, the climb is unsteady and even when you reach the top there can be darkness," Razia said. 

"But what does the red flower represent?" 

"That is Refuge. It's a soft place to land. A place of hope."

What astonishes me most is the very little we did to create a refuge for Razia and Zulaika. In fact, they did more for us: they served with those beautiful smiles, they invited us to their home, they understood exactly why we were doing this coffee thing, and they cheered us on. 

This week, two things have occurred to me:

First, it doesn't take much to create a soft place to land for someone. Mainly, it just takes being present, maybe even for a short season, in that person's real-life and allowing them to be present in yours. 

Second, those little fundraising parties in people's living rooms were a good idea, after all. We got to tell our story and introduce people to our refugee friends. I think we need to do a few more of those from time to time. We can drink some coffee together, tell the story, and, yes, ask (nicely) for money. If you're interested in hosting that kind of event in your own living room, simply email me and we'll figure it out. 

Turns out, the best things in life are simple. 

Yours for others, 
 

Kitti