Last November I made a difficult decision. I left a high-pressure and rewarding job because I couldn’t put in the time required and still adequately parent my three young kids. My plan was to spend the next month recovering, reflecting and enjoying rich, quality time with my kids. I thought I’d do a deep clean and make our household less chaotic.

So it doesn’t make a lot of sense that my husband and I then chose to invite a family of six to share our home for a few months.

But we did. And I’d like to tell you why.

Years ago I listened to a radio show about a refugee family in the Middle East. No, I don’t remember which country – that’s how much I know about world affairs. The mother’s voice moved me to tears from across the world. She didn’t feel safe and she couldn’t keep her children safe. I thought about what it would be like to be that mother. How easily that could be me. How her children are as precious to her as mine are to me.

I decided that day that I wanted to do something, some small thing, to help refugees displaced from their homes. In fact it was less of a want, and more a feeling that this is something I need to do as a human being with extraordinary privilege on the planet.

Sponsoring a refugee family never seemed to be in the cards of our family’s household budget. That commitment – which others in New Westminster are making – calls on the sponsoring group to cover a family’s costs for a whole year. But when we saw a call online for temporary housing, my husband and I decided to pitch in. We looked around at our messy, chaotic home. It hasn’t been baby-proofed for years. We’re close to the line of eligibility for that hoarding TV show. Our children, arguably, could use a lot more attention from two distractable working parents.

But like having your first child, we decided the time is probably never perfect to add six people to your home.

The Edom family has been living with us now for two months. And no, we weren’t ready. Yes, the kids complained after the initial honeymoon wore off. The baby knocks their toys over. The boys had to be banished from my kids’ bedrooms after a series of disasters. The smell of spicy goat meat cooking took some getting used to. It’s remarkably challenging to go ice skating with seven kids and one adult who can’t skate.

But it’s been an unforgettable experience that we don’t regret for a moment.

We got to watch four young children experience snow, snowballs and sledding for the first time.

We are learning about life for regular folks in an African country – much more than we learned during an expensive family vacation to South Africa.

We learn anew every day that children are all the same. They don’t like seeds in their bread. They want to be pushed on the swings. They don’t like having their hair done. They like any playground, anywhere.

We are walking beside a courageous, resilient family as they face the reality that they can’t return to their home, their families, and their business. That this cold, rainy place is their new home. This family gets up every day and takes the next step whether large or small – applying for refugee status, getting the kids into school, figuring out the Compass Card, getting immunizations. Every day a challenge that involves a stack of paperwork they find confounding.

A couple of weeks ago was a turning point. One of my kids climbed over the wooden baby gate to the Edom’s space in our loft to get some time with baby Mandela. It was the first time my kids had gone to their “home”. The other kids soon followed, and a sleepover was held in the loft. It was a small but important power shift.

Yesterday’s triumph: Dad Emeka made a Nigerian dish that my kids adore and is their new favourite meal (indomie – noodles with egg). When we started this adventure, I never thought they’d be asking for Nigerian food by name. Who knows what other surprises are ahead for us.

If you have felt the urge to walk beside refugees, but talked yourself out of it because you don’t really have the room, or it’s a little too disruptive, I urge you to take another look.Like having a child, you’re never ready. The Edom family also wasn’t ready to leave their life behind. But they’re here, they’re doing it, and they could really use a hand.

 

Written by Maya Russell