Zarah comes home from school with a birthday invitation in her hand. Her face lights up, her eyes gleam, she jumps up and down: “everyone is vevited*!!”

The days goes on. I fold some laundry. The kids seem to explode after a day at school and the house explodes with them. Toys and laughter everywhere. Sounds of life fill every crack and corner of our house. They make it home.
We eat our dinner. The kids read some books. We cuddle, pray and kiss good night.

Later that evening before I go to sleep I read the news one more time.

I see this women.
She walks there with her husband and two children. In the heat of the day. Going from a house what once was home. Filled with the sounds of life and the air of safety.

How long have they been traveling? Where are they going? Do they know it themselves? Do they even count the days? Do they have a map? A plan? A passport?
Are they still called by their name?

I have to get up. One of the kids wet the bed. While I am changing the sheets my heart cries. For this mom. For the world.

This beautiful woman, this mom, wishes she had a bed to clean, I am pretty sure about that. She is willing to trade all and everything for a bed to put her kids down at night. For a place to stay and the luxury-worries I have (like: when and where am I going to wash those sheets, since the washer is broken again…).

My heart cries. And I feel hopeless. I have no answer. I wish I could say, full excitement and eyes lighting up: “everyone is vevited!”
To be honest, all the Syrian refuges is a far-from-my-bed-show. Here in the States not even a two thousand of them arrived this year. Where, today, my brother and sister share their city in Hungary with thousands and thousands of Syrians who fled their country.

But I do see my friend who can’t see her husband for months or the the one who’s marriage seems a battle field between two opposite gangs instead of a place where a team is playing and winning in love. I see the dying mom with cancer. The guy who’s only drive in live is his sex drive and own ego. The man who declared his father dead even before he died and starting taking over the lead. I do see the baby fighting for her life in the NICU. The mom grieving over the loss of her unborn baby. The kid searching for love and understanding in a world to big for him to even start to grasp. The sisters taking care of their mentally ill brother and the woman who can’t offer her children a safe home for the night.

I see them.
And I see this women.
I see myself.

I flee. For the pain. For the unsafe words. For the upcoming tread.

I go to my bed. My sheets covering me. The door of the house locked.
And so much space… To life. To think. To do.

Tomorrow morning we will be counting our days. Thursday September 3rd, 2015. The 12th day of school. We will be looking at the map. Spain and Portugal in Europe, from there Vasco Da Gama and Bartolomeu Dias traveled to the Cape of Good Hope in Africa and even further to India in Asia. It took them months. We will follow their route on the map. And know their destination.

I see the woman.
I see myself.
I see the broken world. The wounded people in it.

I have no answers. I have no hope. Not in myself.

I close my eyes. I open my hands. Together with my heart, my words cry out: Father God!
Come, Jesus come. Save this world.

Lord, I know You make a place for all of us. I know it is a home filled with love, safety and comfort in You! Come back, Jesus, to take us to be with You, that we will be where You are!
You mourn with those who mourn. You cry out over this world and the people You created. And You saved us! All of us! Your cry is full of tears. And of victory. Your voice booms with love and excitement, the world lights up as Your eyes gleam: “Everyone is invited!”

Mom on the run. Lonely woman without husband. Mom without kid. Woman without hope for health or shelter. Man wasting your life. Kid looking for love and meaning. God sees you! His arms open while He waits for you, longs for you! He exclaims: “YOU are invited!” Tears running down His face. Eyes filled with love. Love and pain. More pain than my heart will ever feel, because He loves you far more than I ever could.

On Friday when we rest from our week of schooling the kids will play dress up. With more clothes than this family has to take in their search for security.

And I pray.

Father God, In all Your love, You never grow weary! O yes, my kids will all their craziness and laughter and exploding energy, they will get tired and grow exhausted. Even those young life-filled bodies will stumble and fall. But You want to fill us with renewed strength if we hope in You. You promise us, You promise this woman on the run and the lonely friend and all of us, that we will soar on wings like eagles! That we’ll run, but not grow weary, we’ll walk but not be faint.
Please, God! Stop the thief! The one who steals, kills and destroys life. Stop him, Lord! Bless this woman with the real and eternal life You promised. Abundant, better than she can ever dream of. You came to give that to all of us! Everyone is invited!
Come again, Lord Jesus, come. Let the day come soon, the one You told us about: when all nations will beat their swords into shovels and rakes and their spears into pruning tools. When we won’t take up guns and bullets anymore and no one will be training for war. When moms and dads and children don’t have to flee anymore.
Father, don’t You see the world filled with brokenness, trouble and sorrow? You conquered the world! Come back to celebrate the victory. The victory You bought with Your own life.
You are a God of grace. But to be honest. I don’t see a lot of grace. I see brokenness. Dead. Destruction. Help me focus on You! On Your promise, that after the suffering here, which is temporarily, you will restore us and make us strong. Firm and steadfast. Forever! Give me view on this eternal life. Wholeness in You. Abundant life with You. Give it to this woman. To my children. To all those I see. Let them know they are invited. Let their faces light up and their eyes gleam, let them dance and jump of excitement, shouting out: “Everyone is vevited! I am vevited!” God, to You be the power forever and ever. Even if my view is blocked and my faith is small. You don’t change. You are the blessed and only sovereign Ruler, the King of kings and the Lord of lords. To You be all glory and splendid honor, both now and forever more. To the day of eternity. Amen.

* vevited – Zarah’s Dutch-English version of invited. Adding ‘ge’ at the beginning is sort of making it a Dutch verb, but pronouncing the ‘g’ is very hard for her. So it becomes a sweet and treasurable vevited.