I fought back tears recently as I sat at my desk.
I was searching for a picture to accompany a story about how Syria’s civil war has produced an astounding number of refugees. That’s when I came across this picture, and that’s when the tears came.
This family was fleeing their home, leaving behind everything they knew, and moving to a new country.
I, too, have moved to a new place. I graduated from Western Kentucky University in May and went home to Minnesota before moving here in September to work at the Catholic Courier.
But unlike this family, I’ve brought with me a lot more than could fit on the back of a motorcycle. As my aunt put it while helping to unload the U-Haul trailer, I’ve got the inventory of a 40-year-old man. I’m 22.
So as I looked at this picture, I began to cry. I cried because I’ve been blessed with so much, while it appears this family has been blessed with so little.
Since my move, I’ve thought quite a bit about my dreams and ambitions: traveling to visit friends and family; having a positive impact on society; marrying an amazing woman with a good sense of humor who loves God more than she loves me; and playing in the back yard with my future children.
My dreams don’t revolve around money or possessions. Throughout most of my life, I’ve taken it for granted that I don’t have to worry about having basic needs met. But for many people, dreams do revolve around those needs.
As I look at this picture now, I’m reminded how blessed I am to have the dreams that I do. I’ve been praying every day for this Syrian family, and for all other dreamers, in hopes that their dreams will be met, whatever they may be.