“Thank You”: The Tale of a Syrian Refugee

SOMETHING beautiful happened the other day. I was running late and suddenly, one of our former students burst into the room. I remembered her – a tortured soul, a Syrian refugee. Two of her four children were missing, somewhere in Syria, and she had no food (I had met her at the foodbank).

“I wonder what she wants?” I thought, but she was beaming.

She didn’t want anything - only the opportunity to say “thank you” to me.

“This is the third time I have come looking for you!” she said. “You prayed to 'the God' from your heart and your prayer is answered. I can stay in the country, I have found my daughter. I have come to say 'thank you'.”

We prayed again, this time to say “thank you” to God and pray for her missing son in Syria. It was a loaded moment, a timeless, never-to-be-forgotten moment: who felt more moved? Her? Me?

It reminded me of that account in Luke's Gospel, relating how Jesus healed ten lepers, and one returned, so thankful.

I, in my turn, say, “Thank You, thank You, thank You, God”, for the turning of this woman’s fortunes, thank You for answering our prayers – and thank You for the blessing this grateful woman’s words brought to me.

This post was originally published on Julesjotting, Julia Faire's blog