Tonight I went to a middle eastern cooking demo. There are some new families in our neighborhood that are refugees from Iraq. While we were waiting for the soup to cook, they told us a little bit about their journey to our part of the world.

Nada was getting lasik surgery when a terrorist bomb blast destroyed her home. Her daughters were safe in school, but her husband was killed. Her daughter couldn't tell her what had happened because the doctor said that tears so soon after the sugery would blind her.

Fustab, her husband, and her two sons were kidnapped by a militia group for speaking out about women having to wear veils. When we asked her what else you could get arrested for, she said, "Anything. Even buying the wrong vegetables." After they killed her husband in front of her and her sons, Fustab and one of her sons escaped and eventually made it here. They now live just down the road from us.

Rose did most of the talking. She is 17 and speaks the best English. She said the hardest thing about American high school is the people. "One day they say hi to me and the next they act like they don't know me." I wished I could be her best friend.

It's hard for me to understand exactly what is going on in Iraq. To be honest, I haven't tried much. I spend most of my time in a mommy bubble. Listening to their stories about pulled my heart out (and popped the bubble for a little while too.) While I was eating my soup, I thought about of a lot of "at leasts" in my life. At least my family is together. At least we feel safe at night. At least I am not in danger of being arrested if I buy the wrong vegetables. "At least" equals a lot that I don't often think about.  

 

When I left, I thanked these women.  I loved them for sharing their soup and their story with us.  Sometimes a place can seem so far away that it is almost pretend.  But tonight Iraq became a real place--a place with real mothers who work hard, cook meals and love their children.