Yesterday, October 29th, we traveled into the interior of the West Bank through Samaria and into the small villages of Aboud and Zababdeh.
In Aboud we visited a small Christian school that was started by an American woman over 40 years ago. My friend, John, took photos of all of the things that needed to be repaired, replaced or “refinanced.”
As we walked through the school and saw the children dressed smartly in their uniforms I was struck by how all wanted to be known. I would wink at one and all would wink back. I would pat one on the head and all would want that touch or I would smile and all would smile back.
As we walked out I noticed a piece of artwork on the wall prominently placed that simply said:
“I am not forgotten. God knows my name.”
I took note of this with the head of the school, Suhaila El Khoury. Her smile is infectious and she has reproduced that smile in the faculty and students. It is loving and kind and patient and gracious and courageous, but it also reveals her pain and her confidence: “Does anyone know me? Do I really matter? GOD KNOWS MY NAME!”
As a small child I remember my mother taking her three children in tow to a fabric store in downtown Tacoma, Washington… the BIG City. We were told to hold hands and stay close. I was three. It was more like herding cats.
As was common, I went one way while they all went another. In a moment I realized I was separated and lost. Too short to see over the tall isles of fabric I went to that place that all children go:
“I wonder if they will find me?”
