We said goodbye to the refugees tonight.
It was rather sudden. They are moving to Pennsylvania, in hopes of finding jobs over there.
I always knew our time with them would be temporary. Last week when I learned that Samira and her dad were in Pennsylvania, I kind of felt that our time with them was coming to a fast close. The rest of the family joins them a week from today, July 7. We helped them look for flights today.
We didn't get to say goodbye to Samira and Said. In a way, that was almost better, because it would have been really, really hard to say goodbye to Samira. I really learned to love that girl, and toward the end she was really starting to trust me.
I started crying when we left tonight. Then Soher and Salima (the mother) started crying. We hugged a lot, and they called over Sara, who was at a neighbor's house, to say goodbye, too. It was extremely difficult. But it was such a relief, in a way, to see them cry--to know that they loved us, too. That it wasn't a one-way relationship.
Sometimes I think the cultural and language differences made our relationship even more meaningful than it would have been otherwise. They didn't hear our words; they saw our actions. We visited them faithfully every week, helped them with whatever they needed every week, and I think that spoke much more to them than words ever could, Arabic, English or otherwise.
I also think the cultural and language differences made the goodbyes more real. With them, there was none of this meaningless, "We'll keep in touch," said with a polite nod and smile and an anxious get-me-out-of-here-quick look behind the eyes. No--those American rules of etiquette were irrelevant here. We cried, and they cried. And we hugged, obeying the deepest, most honest desires of our hearts. It gave us closure.
Closure is something we all seek at the end of an era, a chapter, a friendship. So many times I think we obey the rules of society instead of the rules of our hearts, and we don't get that closure. America doesn't like goodbyes, I don't think.
The refugees are nomads; their time in Portland, and with us, was always temporary. In a way, their lifestyle better reflects the truth of our existence than the American way does. We are all temporary residents here. One day we'll all say our goodbyes.
I have lots more thoughts on goodbyes, but I think I've said enough for tonight. It's time to take my tears and rest on God, and sleep with peace in His arms.
