INNOCENT.
The word kept repeating in my head.
INNOCENT.
We weren't even sitting in the tent for ten minutes before this beautiful little girl nudged my arm and made the international sign for "take a picture." I immediately obliged and then showed her herself before looking at the captured moment. She giggled and skipped away towards the other kids. I looked down at this picture, starting to re-enter into the interpreted conversation between my teammates and the Syrian teacher, and cried. "Why am I crying??" I thought. "No, seriously, Lord... Why am I crying right now??" I earnestly prayed. No answer. I wiped the tears away and tried to fully reengage.
The next day we were back in the Syrian refugee camp. This time we were set to have tea with one of the patriarchs of the community. As we took our places inside the tent, sitting criss-crossed on the clean cement, Munnah came hopping in followed by her older sister and a tray of tea. In just a few minutes, Munnah was parked next to me, shoving an English book in my hands and gesturing for me to read to her. My heart swelled and I again prayed, "Lord, why do I feel this way??"
INNOCENT.
The word kept repeating in my head.
INNOCENT.
This beautiful, innocent little girl has lived six of her eight years of life in a refugee camp in Lebanon. She doesn't deserve this. This world is broken. This world needs the hope of Jesus Christ. I pray Munnah does not lose her joy, her sweet, innocent joy. I pray she remains as innocent as one can in this world. And I pray she finds the eternal hope found only in Jesus.