Author: Adventures

A few days after Christmas, while serving in one of the larger refugee camps on the island of Lesvos, something happened to me that left me spiritually and physically speechless. Thousands of refugee families filled every square inch available on the property with their tents and belongings, where they waited for days — or even weeks — for legal documented approval to continue on. A large portion of my eight hour shift that day was spent picking up trash. This meant I got to be outside in the sun while walking around the camp, picking up trash, and interacting with people. During...

A few days after Christmas, while serving in one of the larger refugee camps on the island of Lesvos, something happened to me that left me spiritually and physically speechless. Thousands of refugee families filled every square inch available on the property with their tents and belongings, where they waited for days — or even weeks — for legal documented approval to continue on. A large portion of my eight hour shift that day was spent picking up trash. This meant I got to be outside in the sun while walking around the camp, picking up trash, and interacting with people. During...

I went to Lesvos prepared to cry. I’d read the news, seen the pictures, heard the stories. I imagined the perilous, sometimes fatal sea crossing from Turkey to Greece and the collective mourning of thousands of families passing through chaotic refugee camps. I expected my heart to be shattered. I expected to be broken by what I would experience, broken in a way I’d never been on the World Race, broken to a depth that would cause me to question the goodness of my God. By all rights, Lesvos should be a place of despair and mourning. The refugees passing through have lost everything...

I went to Lesvos prepared to cry. I’d read the news, seen the pictures, heard the stories. I imagined the perilous, sometimes fatal sea crossing from Turkey to Greece and the collective mourning of thousands of families passing through chaotic refugee camps. I expected my heart to be shattered. I expected to be broken by what I would experience, broken in a way I’d never been on the World Race, broken to a depth that would cause me to question the goodness of my God. By all rights, Lesvos should be a place of despair and mourning. The refugees passing through have lost everything...

It was my first day working at Sikaminia, the transition camp run by Euro Relief on the island of Lesvos. I didn’t know what to expect, but I do know what I imagined- hundreds if not a thousand refugees walking through our gates. Flickr photo courtesy of CAFOD Photo Library cc We didn’t even see half that number. Only fifty refugees made the 10km journey across the Aegean Sea that day. It was a slow day at camp. I thought it was a blessing. Low numbers meant only fifty people needed to cross the sea that day. Maybe, the end of this crisis is in sight. Only fifty people meant...

It was my first day working at Sikaminia, the transition camp run by Euro Relief on the island of Lesvos. I didn’t know what to expect, but I do know what I imagined- hundreds if not a thousand refugees walking through our gates. Flickr photo courtesy of CAFOD Photo Library cc We didn’t even see half that number. Only fifty refugees made the 10km journey across the Aegean Sea that day. It was a slow day at camp. I thought it was a blessing. Low numbers meant only fifty people needed to cross the sea that day. Maybe, the end of this crisis is in sight. Only fifty people meant...