At Saint Benedict’s Education Center, I am most often found on
the third floor. Home to refugees learning English and preparing to find a job,
usually in housekeeping, a plastic factory, packaging or laundry. I get to work
one on one, conversing with these people from across the globe.
At first, I was struck by the vulnerability it takes to take a
chance on speaking a foreign language. It is a constant struggle in the hopes
of being understood. One Syrian man opened my eyes to the struggle. While we
went over new vocabulary words in English, he would ask me to repeat them back
in Arabic. We would laugh with each other as we mispronounced and forgot
certain words in the other person’s language. I was self-conscious of my
pronunciation and concerned if I was saying the correct word. He opened my eyes
further to the everyday vulnerability it takes to simply speak.
As I get to know some of the refugees, we would talk about
where they are from, what life was like in their native country, their
children, where I am from, why I am there, what my family is like. We both have
our phones out, showing pictures to the other person of the people we love.
There would come a point when one of us would say, “Same!” We would recognize a
similarity in the other person. We would make some kind of connection. With one
woman from the Congo it was the little bit of French I could remember from high
school. I teach one man’s children at the Art House. One Bhutanese woman has three
children like my parents. Many of the refugees have not seen their parents for
many months or many years. They understand what it is to miss someone who is
far away. We found a shared experience of leaving home and leaving loved ones
behind. Those stories remind me that our homesickness is the same. We see each
other as people who have come from places with beauty and people to be missed. I
am in awe of their courage and sacrifice taken for their families. While I will
see my parents in two months, many people are unsure of when they will see
their parents or loved ones again.
Watching the news has become a new experience. Seeing images
of Syrian towns reduced to rubble have now become the places that someone is
homesick for, and will continue to be homesick for because of the destruction. The
refugees have opened my heart wider to humanity. The world is becoming smaller
and much bigger than I ever imagined.
Some other highlights for me from the last month include
participating in a Lakota Sweat Lodge with some of the sisters, hearing a
presentation by a Buddhist monk and enjoying the Erie Philharmonic. My phone
calls home are now prefaced with the question, “What did you do NOW?” I’m
grateful for all the unique opportunities I’ve been gifted with since coming to
Erie!
Thank you for the prayers and support. Erie is still
beautiful, but now with fall colors!
Peace and prayers,
Erin
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