There are other people going through this, too

Have you ever noticed when your heart rate is up, you tend to forget about other people? Not their existence, but to think from their perspective. 

Two years ago, a Ukrainian girl joined my daughter's class whose family fled the war and moved around the USA. She was at our school for only one year before moving to an entirely new US city (again). I can't help but think about [name redacted] and how she and her parents had fled their war-torn homeland for a new country in search of safety, hope, and love. I think of her and wonder if she's found acceptance, love, and peace.

When life is calm, slow, and running smoothly, we have the capacity to consider what others are going through: their thoughts and even time and the ability to ask, "How are you? But really, how are you?" Contrast that to our rushing around — when we feel anxious or under a deadline. We narrow our vision and get it done. That focus is good. It creates advancements such as putting a man on the moon or developing the smartphone or planting a tree. However, it costs remembering other people. They have emotions, too — those emotions include anxiety, fear, excitement, wonder, anticipation, and dread. 

• Will they accept me?
• (For parents) Will my kids find great friends? Will they be ok? Will they be mad at us for taking them on this journey?
• (For spouses) Will my spouse find a great like-minded friend?
• What will ________ be like?
• Will I regret _______?

We're flying to Texas in July for a month of training and, while some may jokingly consider Texas a foreign country, it is a foreign country to many of the fellow Mercy Ships volunteers who are coming from Australia, New Zealand, the UK, the Netherlands, Germany, The Congo, Kenya, etc. Differences in culture, currency, weather, language, and time zones — and those are only the surface-level differences. What about the way we demonstrate respect, love, courtesy, and compassion? As we prepare for a three-hour flight, those down under must prepare for nineteen hours of flying. Do they know everyone has the same fears, excitements, worries, and anticipations as we do? Do they feel part of the community, or do they feel fear and loneliness as they are pulling up their long-established roots for a season of serving in Africa?

What would it look like to extend a hand like my daughter did to her Ukrainian friend?