Welcome To Moria.
November 1st 2017, I ventured out to Lesvos, Greece. A small island rather close to Turkey. On Lesvos I volunteered in a Refugee camp called Moria {More-Re-Uh} [for those of you who I know have been pronouncing it like Moriah] Through the course of 3 months I ended up working and eventually becoming the manager in the New Arrivals section of this massive camp. New Arrivals is the section where each P.O.C. is given essentials, such as blankets, sleeping bags, mats, hygiene kits, clothing and the daily food and water before being housed into outer camp.
Though pictures are forbidden inside Moria, they never said anything about drawling what I see. Below is New Arrivals. The RUB hall to the left, and common area in the middle. Every shift I looked out the window of the ISObox and saw this. The first place every Moria Refugee experiences.
Nov. 17. 2017.
Though pictures are forbidden inside Moria, they never said anything about drawling what I see. Below is New Arrivals. The RUB hall to the left, and common area in the middle. Every shift I looked out the window of the ISObox and saw this. The first place every Moria Refugee experiences.
Nov. 17. 2017.
Greece as whole is beautiful. Yesterday my fellow volunteer and I walked home, from Moria to Panagouida, which is about a relaxed 40 minute walk. There are loads of olive trees on the Lesvos Island, shadowed with Rocky beaches and shorelines. Kind Greeks fill the streets and you can always find coffee or pastries at any of the many bakeries lining the streets in these towns. Greek time is a real thing, thankfully in most restaurants you are supplied with a game of checkers and or good conversation to make the long wait more bearable.
Dec. 3. 2017.
The kids here are relentless. Stubbornness sears through their veins with a swarb of persistence and opinion to follow. My eyes see my own reflection of when I was their age. I wonder how my parents kept their composure, as I was a very strong willed child, which is the perfect description of Morias youngest members. Some days my head wants to explode with emotion and anger as I face these tiny terrors. I have been dubbed a "child hater" by many i58 team members from all the horror store I come home with and pour on them during debrief. Rest assured, I am not a child hater, though the thought has crossed my mind. I rather like children, despite my vulgar actions. I like children that I see walking across the street eating their ice cream and wearing yellow rubber boots... Sure, secretly I may be wishing they trip and their ice cream lands in a puddle next to them, but all in all, i don't mind sitting there and gracefully enjoying their silent giggles and happy chirps as they pass by. With all that being said, my patients has raised from 2 to 20 on a scale from 1-100 in the past month here in Greece. I appreciate that. God knows exactly what He was doing, plopping me full time in the New Arrivals position at camp, where interaction with kids is probable and unavoidable. I have literally had my moments of chasing them down to retrieve a stolen anything, to hiding under a tarp, pleading to escape their rampage and enjoy a few bites of lunch. Which only worked for about 2.5 seconds before they reached through the gate and knocked my nicely stacked TP over and began chucking rocks at me. Such is life.
Dec. 18. 2017.
The adults are weary. I can't imagine going through what all of these people have, my only thought is they must be so worn out. Emotionally, physically, mentally...Literally, in every way imaginable. They are survivors.
Dec. 26. 2017.
Yesterday was Christmas. I was able to run the evening shift. A quarter past 12:00 pm, I looked out the gate. To the right of me, classical piano music added a tender effect to what I saw. Swarms of people lay outside, covered in nothing but a sleeping bag and blanket we had just given them. Like lumps of a rolling hill, people squished close to one another conserving heat and space. There was literally no room for them in the inn. I tuned my ears to listen into the faint sound sound the night. The cries of a 12 day old baby, shivering in the night air. The chatter of friends separated by a fence, locked and barred. The snores of a little girl, laying in a pile of siblings as her father sat contently and watched over them, cold air biting at his face.
Tonight, I sit. There is a peace in my heart that is severed with a true sadness. To the left, there is some acoustic guitar playing, doing my heart wonders of good. I have my notebook open and being used to keep my mind functioning. Outside in the nipping cold, the rain drips occasionally as it pleases, with people searching for dry ground to rest their weary selves on. My heart cries for those sleeping outside tonight. In the cold, in the rain... In a strange place such as Moria.
Back in November, the 6th, I had my first shift in New Arrivals. Now it is December 26th. I have been pulled into New Arrivals full time, running my own shifts, watching as those who trained me in prepare to leave. It's a bittersweet. thinking of the friendships I have gained and knowing I too will be leaving this place eventually.
Tonight, I sit. I hear healthy laughter exploding outside, and the hum of a mom cooing her children asleep. One day they will get the chance to leave as well. To create a life again somewhere else. Where they go and what they become is totally in the hands of Christ.. but tonight, it's hard to imagine them anywhere but here. Taking one day at a time, one hour by each minute and living life the way they know how.
And yet, tonight, I sit. I pray God raises up the minor boys to become fearless leaders for Him. I pray he uses each Section C lady, to live victorious life of a Christian, spreading His love. I pray every pair of dirty feet that stomps through the New Arrivals gate, grow to walk the world jumping with joy and teaching Gods goodness to all. And through it all, my heart cries for those outside tonight. Sleeping in the cold, the rain... In such a strange place as Moria.
Jan 2. 2018
In with a new year has brought many New Arrivals, tracking into Moria. Filled with a curious excitement and exhausted cry for freedom.
Today I looked into the hollow eyes of a mother who's last ambition for life was lost at sea. She told me how hours earlier, her precious two year old baby fell into the Aegean Sea and drowned within minutes. The piercing pain of loss ripped straight through my heart as I heard the panic in her voice, and the shock that began to set into her eyes. An image of a crammed raft, and a frightened mother flashed through my mind. The thought of her screaming desperate cries for her baby, as she watched it float in the ridged waters.
It's too much for my heart to hold. Too much for any heart to attempt to feel that grimacing sick feeling of loss. And yet, there she stood. Gasping for air. Loosing all composure. Questioning all purpose for life and goodness.
Today was rough. I listened to the shouts of angry men, accusing me of not treating them as humans. I watched small children cry for water we did not have. I prayed for strength as I wadded through the middle of camp, carrying a sobbing baby to find it's mother who was just as desperate to find her child. I inwardly wept with those who wept, I spoke out of anger, I laughed, I stood firm, I smiled, I breathed...a great gasp of Moria filled air. Today was another day in Moria. Another day serving these people. Another day of crossing line between my own emotions and frustrations. Another day of watching nations gather in one common space and continuous praying the freedom is stronger than the feuds.
In with a new year has brought many New Arrivals, tracking into Moria. Filled with a curious excitement and exhausted cry for freedom.
Today I looked into the hollow eyes of a mother who's last ambition for life was lost at sea. She told me how hours earlier, her precious two year old baby fell into the Aegean Sea and drowned within minutes. The piercing pain of loss ripped straight through my heart as I heard the panic in her voice, and the shock that began to set into her eyes. An image of a crammed raft, and a frightened mother flashed through my mind. The thought of her screaming desperate cries for her baby, as she watched it float in the ridged waters.
It's too much for my heart to hold. Too much for any heart to attempt to feel that grimacing sick feeling of loss. And yet, there she stood. Gasping for air. Loosing all composure. Questioning all purpose for life and goodness.
Today was rough. I listened to the shouts of angry men, accusing me of not treating them as humans. I watched small children cry for water we did not have. I prayed for strength as I wadded through the middle of camp, carrying a sobbing baby to find it's mother who was just as desperate to find her child. I inwardly wept with those who wept, I spoke out of anger, I laughed, I stood firm, I smiled, I breathed...a great gasp of Moria filled air. Today was another day in Moria. Another day serving these people. Another day of crossing line between my own emotions and frustrations. Another day of watching nations gather in one common space and continuous praying the freedom is stronger than the feuds.
Jan 5. 2018.
The 3rd Lis and I flew into Tel Aviv, Israel around midnight. Dragging our exhausted beings, we curled in a corner of the airport. We used all our clothes to make a soft bed on the freezing floor and a blankets on top of us. We slept until 9 A.M. when Sarah and Beulah were scheduled to fly in. After a breakfast of Israeli "fast food" we met up with the girls and caught a bus to Damascus.
We booked an Air BnB earlier, that we eventually (through a series of many events) got to. It was a quaint, character filled apartment with immaculate stone walls and high ceilings. Despite the electric breaker flipping every 14 minutes, the lack of toilet paper, and dribble of a shower, we settled in.
Now we drive, to find an authentic Israeli meal and then find the West Bank Wall, in which separates Palestine from the rest of Israel and is a whole story in of itself. Today we walked through the remains of the City of Jericho, road camels, dipped in the Dead Sea, waded in the Jordan River and explored the deserted land of Israel.
The town of Bethlehem has cute, authentic streets to walk, lots of small shops to get lost in and fresh veggie and fruit markets tucked back in its further corners and tunnels.The center square was still decorated for Christmas, in which today and tomorrow is the Feast, where people gather and have live music, and festive gatherings. Quite the experience. To see grown men and women, prancing in circles, singing and dancing. And real live men dressed in gold and white with big turbans and titles such as the 'President of Palestine' walk among us. We enjoyed every bit of the culture and experience we could. Even to the point of sitting on the rooftop, overlooking the streets of Bethlehem, and singing, "Oh, Little Town of Bethlehem" with all the harmonizing and singsong voices we had. For those of you who understand how much of a Grinch I am when it comes to holidays and Christmas as a whole, it may be rather shocking that I free willingly chose to sing such a Christmas song, but such is life and such did happen.
The 3rd Lis and I flew into Tel Aviv, Israel around midnight. Dragging our exhausted beings, we curled in a corner of the airport. We used all our clothes to make a soft bed on the freezing floor and a blankets on top of us. We slept until 9 A.M. when Sarah and Beulah were scheduled to fly in. After a breakfast of Israeli "fast food" we met up with the girls and caught a bus to Damascus.
We booked an Air BnB earlier, that we eventually (through a series of many events) got to. It was a quaint, character filled apartment with immaculate stone walls and high ceilings. Despite the electric breaker flipping every 14 minutes, the lack of toilet paper, and dribble of a shower, we settled in.
Now we drive, to find an authentic Israeli meal and then find the West Bank Wall, in which separates Palestine from the rest of Israel and is a whole story in of itself. Today we walked through the remains of the City of Jericho, road camels, dipped in the Dead Sea, waded in the Jordan River and explored the deserted land of Israel.
The town of Bethlehem has cute, authentic streets to walk, lots of small shops to get lost in and fresh veggie and fruit markets tucked back in its further corners and tunnels.The center square was still decorated for Christmas, in which today and tomorrow is the Feast, where people gather and have live music, and festive gatherings. Quite the experience. To see grown men and women, prancing in circles, singing and dancing. And real live men dressed in gold and white with big turbans and titles such as the 'President of Palestine' walk among us. We enjoyed every bit of the culture and experience we could. Even to the point of sitting on the rooftop, overlooking the streets of Bethlehem, and singing, "Oh, Little Town of Bethlehem" with all the harmonizing and singsong voices we had. For those of you who understand how much of a Grinch I am when it comes to holidays and Christmas as a whole, it may be rather shocking that I free willingly chose to sing such a Christmas song, but such is life and such did happen.
Jan 13. 2018.
Last night was dreary. The rain sprinkled constantly forcing people to hid out in the Rub halls and Iso boxes. The only life in camp was 8 or 9 sopping wet, muddy little boys who were finding joy in breaking though fences and climbing gates into the New Arrivals area. The entire first part of my evening was spent hauling them out by their ears and lecturing them about the consequences of invading my personal space. With no avail, they continued their efforts until a kindhearted P.O.C stepped in and scolded them up and down. Grabbing a few by their arms, I watched as he dragged them into the Police Station and gave a few good spanks to whip them into shape. Through the dribbling rain, he came back to me, arms full of stolen children shampoo, the result of the rugrat renegades. He asked for pliers to fix the multiple holes in the fence, also the effects of the tiny terrors, and went on his way to make a wrong right again. My heart was reassured once I waddled into the back and saw the holes well patched and securely closed. A deep reminder of the good that still lies within people and the well sought out reassurance that kindness really does have an effect on others.
The rest of the evening went slow and steady. With no extra person on shift with me, I sat in the NA cage, attempting to make life decisions and doodling art work to tape on the empty, stained walls. Occasional people dribbled in and out, keeping me sane and in good company. Key moments of sitting around, eating fresh soft pretzels and watching OkGo videos gave me motivation to finish off the evening. As i walked out of camp that night, I felt the eerie silence wash over the place. A few young kids hung out in a couple common areas, whispering over the crackles of smokey fires. A baby let out a few stifled cries from inside a sagging tent. And there I was. Walking. Straightforward. I looked back and saw a small boy wave at me as he crawled in his undeniably small living space. My heart did a flop for these people. These dear, dear people. Hundreds of people, coming from all sorts of backgrounds, and stories. I felt an odd peace surge through me as I reached the front gate. Glancing back one last time I whispered 'Goodnight' and went on my way. Knowing that Moria was settling down for bed, and with the sunrise would bring a new day to give, serve and share with so many hurting, wandering hearts.
Jan 27. 2018.
Tonight is cold. Almost unbearably cold for some reason. My adopted kitten, Claudia is snuggled up on my lap, nose buried into my scarf, which she is getting more use out of than I am. Here i sit in New Arrivals, my steady location. The night is slow with few alibabas and no excitement. I contemplate my next step in life once my feet hit US soil. The reality of only 5 days left here is hitting, but not to hard. I've always been the first to jump at a new adventure.
Today Paul and CO. was building us a cage for all our stock of New Arrivals things. Currently, it is a crazy mess. Every bone in me wants to organize back there, but atlas, we wait for the cement to set and work to be finished before we can worry about such minor things as organizing.
This morning i sat in the sunshine. It was a crisp day and the sun reassured me all would be bright and good. I talked with my Creator, and felt He told me the same. Somehow, venturing back to the Untied States seemed less overwhelming, knowing the same sun rises here in Greece, and in the USA.
Feb 1. 2018
I am still packing. We are to meet at the Brick at 6:17 A.M. Its close to 3 A.M and here I sit. Suitcase wide open in front of me. I've been living out of this suitcase since 2015. Going non-stop ever since then. Living wherever my feet are, creating adventure for myself, finding people to socialize with. I realize this suitcase has been with me though it all, as i stuff it full once again with all I have. Alicia is scurrying around as well, packing the last few items worth taking home. My mind is so blurred from the obvious lack of sleep I've gotten in the last 3 or 4 nights. I will admit, i may have been partying a little to hard against my better judgment and adultingness, for i now feel the effects of it. Just about to tired to care i'm going to leave it at this and hit the hay. A new day awaits just beyond the horizon, waiting for a refreshed, clear-minded Ellie to venture out into it.
Still February 1st. But this time, I'm in London with the company of Lis and Emily. The cycle of tiredness is starting to hit me again, but it easily counteracted with the excitement of being in downtown London at 11:30 P.M. It is bitterly cold, and,being smart and not thinking ahead, i packed my faithful red leather coat into my carry-on which was thoughtfully checked in so I wouldn't have to haul it through the Londidian streets. Thankfully I have my faithful blanket on hand which is wrapped around me fashioning a poncho, sorta how you would picture a well off hobo. Our flight is at 8:30 tomorrow morning. The first Metro leaves at 6:00 I believe. So cheers to all night in London, let the good times roll.
Feb 2. 2018
Lis and I are sitting in Reno Cafe in downtown Logan Square, Chicago. Our circumstances leading up to this decision were mostly because the Chicago O'Hare airport recently decided to charge everyone for Wifi instead of give it free. Being who we are, we decided to catch the Underground into the city and wait out her 5ish hour layover in a cozy cafe rather than the uninviting airport. Illinois is cold. Oh, so bitterly windy and cold. And ugly, just how I remember the winter months being. Dry, brown, and snowy. None of which appeals to me. My heart sighs deeply. The thought of catching a ride back to Iowa and bunkering down until I find a car and a plan for my life seems miles away and yet right in front of me. The easiest option would have been just staying in Greece forever. But atlas, the easiest option, often is not the correct one. God often calls us to difficult situations and decisions, not to frustrate us, but grow us and teach us. We are constantly learning and relearning, weather we know it or not. Sitting here I feel reality seeping in more than ever. I've never been more reluctant to move on with an adventure. The next few days will be filled with people asking whats next in my life and if I plan to actually stick around this time. Though I know what answer I would like to give, I honestly am at a loss. It seems to always go this way for me, which is not a bad thing. I thrive on being a nomad. But I also thrive on having something in front of me to chase after and work towards.
Over the course of the last year, a main theme that God has been drilling into me is finding joy in everything. Some people may find it naive and fluffy of me to giggle happily in a canoe, smile for hours after receiving a letter in the mail, or dance around in my yellow raincoat, just because of the pure small glimpse of joy that each one of those things bring. Joy in the little things. Joy in the confusing things. Joy in the trials, joy in the joyful... joy in life. Every situation, every moment. God has been teaching me over and over to look beyond everything seemingly big and important and find small things to be joyful over. All that to say, I still sit here with Lis, cozied up at Reno, weary weather outside. And though its now becoming easy for me to find joy in the moment, a new struggle is approaching me. Finding joy in mundane monotone days. The days you sit with 1,000 things to accomplish and figure out and no one around to socialize or be with.
Tomorrow is the funeral of my dear great auntie, Norma. Every time, without fail, when i would resurface in Iowa, she was the first one I would go see. We would sit for hours chatting, cleaning, eating lunch, bird watching. She loved creativity and flowers. Her plants were the most healthy looking things i'd ever seen. And her heart, it was the biggest and brightest i'd ever know, despite her growing age. She was snatched from this earth following a long, hard fight with cancer. Thinking about going back hits a little stronger now than ever, knowing she wont be there to greet me.
Dear God, take my heart and prepare it for the mundane, monotone days ahead. Lift my voice, and help me find joy in every situation as it passes. Give my heart the creativity to make a grey day as sunshine across the earth. Point me where you want me to go, and set my feet running.
The last 3 months in Greece have taught and shown me so much. Patience, a huge lesson I was forced into learning. Taking constructive criticism with a smile and attitude of thankfulness. And searching for and gathering Joy in every moment of every day. I met friends who i'm convinced will follow me throughout life, I've have experiences that have grown and shaped me in way i have yet to discover, and I've met nations among nations of people that i will continue to pray for, weather or not i ever see them again on this earth. Its been real Greece, Adios, and Cheers to life.
Jan 27. 2018.
Tonight is cold. Almost unbearably cold for some reason. My adopted kitten, Claudia is snuggled up on my lap, nose buried into my scarf, which she is getting more use out of than I am. Here i sit in New Arrivals, my steady location. The night is slow with few alibabas and no excitement. I contemplate my next step in life once my feet hit US soil. The reality of only 5 days left here is hitting, but not to hard. I've always been the first to jump at a new adventure.
Today Paul and CO. was building us a cage for all our stock of New Arrivals things. Currently, it is a crazy mess. Every bone in me wants to organize back there, but atlas, we wait for the cement to set and work to be finished before we can worry about such minor things as organizing.
This morning i sat in the sunshine. It was a crisp day and the sun reassured me all would be bright and good. I talked with my Creator, and felt He told me the same. Somehow, venturing back to the Untied States seemed less overwhelming, knowing the same sun rises here in Greece, and in the USA.
Feb 1. 2018
I am still packing. We are to meet at the Brick at 6:17 A.M. Its close to 3 A.M and here I sit. Suitcase wide open in front of me. I've been living out of this suitcase since 2015. Going non-stop ever since then. Living wherever my feet are, creating adventure for myself, finding people to socialize with. I realize this suitcase has been with me though it all, as i stuff it full once again with all I have. Alicia is scurrying around as well, packing the last few items worth taking home. My mind is so blurred from the obvious lack of sleep I've gotten in the last 3 or 4 nights. I will admit, i may have been partying a little to hard against my better judgment and adultingness, for i now feel the effects of it. Just about to tired to care i'm going to leave it at this and hit the hay. A new day awaits just beyond the horizon, waiting for a refreshed, clear-minded Ellie to venture out into it.
Still February 1st. But this time, I'm in London with the company of Lis and Emily. The cycle of tiredness is starting to hit me again, but it easily counteracted with the excitement of being in downtown London at 11:30 P.M. It is bitterly cold, and,being smart and not thinking ahead, i packed my faithful red leather coat into my carry-on which was thoughtfully checked in so I wouldn't have to haul it through the Londidian streets. Thankfully I have my faithful blanket on hand which is wrapped around me fashioning a poncho, sorta how you would picture a well off hobo. Our flight is at 8:30 tomorrow morning. The first Metro leaves at 6:00 I believe. So cheers to all night in London, let the good times roll.
Feb 2. 2018
Lis and I are sitting in Reno Cafe in downtown Logan Square, Chicago. Our circumstances leading up to this decision were mostly because the Chicago O'Hare airport recently decided to charge everyone for Wifi instead of give it free. Being who we are, we decided to catch the Underground into the city and wait out her 5ish hour layover in a cozy cafe rather than the uninviting airport. Illinois is cold. Oh, so bitterly windy and cold. And ugly, just how I remember the winter months being. Dry, brown, and snowy. None of which appeals to me. My heart sighs deeply. The thought of catching a ride back to Iowa and bunkering down until I find a car and a plan for my life seems miles away and yet right in front of me. The easiest option would have been just staying in Greece forever. But atlas, the easiest option, often is not the correct one. God often calls us to difficult situations and decisions, not to frustrate us, but grow us and teach us. We are constantly learning and relearning, weather we know it or not. Sitting here I feel reality seeping in more than ever. I've never been more reluctant to move on with an adventure. The next few days will be filled with people asking whats next in my life and if I plan to actually stick around this time. Though I know what answer I would like to give, I honestly am at a loss. It seems to always go this way for me, which is not a bad thing. I thrive on being a nomad. But I also thrive on having something in front of me to chase after and work towards.
Over the course of the last year, a main theme that God has been drilling into me is finding joy in everything. Some people may find it naive and fluffy of me to giggle happily in a canoe, smile for hours after receiving a letter in the mail, or dance around in my yellow raincoat, just because of the pure small glimpse of joy that each one of those things bring. Joy in the little things. Joy in the confusing things. Joy in the trials, joy in the joyful... joy in life. Every situation, every moment. God has been teaching me over and over to look beyond everything seemingly big and important and find small things to be joyful over. All that to say, I still sit here with Lis, cozied up at Reno, weary weather outside. And though its now becoming easy for me to find joy in the moment, a new struggle is approaching me. Finding joy in mundane monotone days. The days you sit with 1,000 things to accomplish and figure out and no one around to socialize or be with.
Tomorrow is the funeral of my dear great auntie, Norma. Every time, without fail, when i would resurface in Iowa, she was the first one I would go see. We would sit for hours chatting, cleaning, eating lunch, bird watching. She loved creativity and flowers. Her plants were the most healthy looking things i'd ever seen. And her heart, it was the biggest and brightest i'd ever know, despite her growing age. She was snatched from this earth following a long, hard fight with cancer. Thinking about going back hits a little stronger now than ever, knowing she wont be there to greet me.
Dear God, take my heart and prepare it for the mundane, monotone days ahead. Lift my voice, and help me find joy in every situation as it passes. Give my heart the creativity to make a grey day as sunshine across the earth. Point me where you want me to go, and set my feet running.
The last 3 months in Greece have taught and shown me so much. Patience, a huge lesson I was forced into learning. Taking constructive criticism with a smile and attitude of thankfulness. And searching for and gathering Joy in every moment of every day. I met friends who i'm convinced will follow me throughout life, I've have experiences that have grown and shaped me in way i have yet to discover, and I've met nations among nations of people that i will continue to pray for, weather or not i ever see them again on this earth. Its been real Greece, Adios, and Cheers to life.
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