The year was 1993. The two gray-haired women standing in front of me were petite, their shoulders rounded, and their posture slightly stooped. One of them leaned on a cane.
With my youthful, 6-foot frame, I had no trouble peering over their shoulders to see the artifacts they were looking at in a glass case.
The woman with the cane gasped and said, “I had no idea this was happening.”
Her friend replied, “I knew, but I didn’t do anything about it.”
It’s easy to think of war in the abstract. As a culture, we seek out violence in our movies and video games. But there was nothing abstract about the situation I entered: tracers lighting up the night sky; whole cities burning; people lost; and people who were thought to be lost, found.
My stomach, which was already in turmoil from looking at the Holocaust artifacts on display, clenched and rose towards my throat. I’d heard reports of the horrors taking place in Bosnia at that very moment. I knew. And I wasn’t doing anything.
Doing Something
I decided right then that I would not be the person who had known but done nothing. I banded together with two friends. Our goal was to collect medical supplies and hand deliver them to Bosnia.
My parents, not expecting 3 high school students to succeed, gave me permission to go if we could raise the money. I am forever grateful that they kept their word and allowed me to spend the summer of my seventeenth birthday in a war zone.
Although my friends and I traveled alone, many aid workers and organizations took us under their wings once we arrived in country. Honestly, I think we were more hassle than help, but the value I received from their guidance was priceless. The experience I gained there informed the very fiber of my being and forever shaped my worldview.
One day I woke up to the fact that I’d become the person who knew but wasn’t doing anything. It was then that I tripped across an ad for Preemptive Love… And I fell in love: with the mission, the approach, the messaging.
It’s easy to think of war in the abstract. As a culture, we seek out violence in our movies and video games. But there was nothing abstract about the situation I entered: tracers lighting up the night sky; whole cities burning; people lost; and people who were thought to be lost, found.
And then, there was the refugee camp.
Entire families were living in 10×10 foot garden sheds; all their worldly possessions and bedding stored on the floor. They had so little, yet they welcomed me with open arms and offered to share the little bit of food they had. I was supposed to be helping them, but they were serving me.
Even though I had witnessed the terrible things people are capable of doing, that’s not what stuck with me. I left there in awe — in awe of how resilient, adaptable, generous, and kind people are.
When I returned home, I used to give talks about my trip and what was happening in the war. But soon I became wrapped up in my studies, went off to college, started a career, and had kids. In a blink, 20 years had passed.
Creating a Better Tomorrow
One day I woke up to the fact that I’d become the person who knew but wasn’t doing anything. It was then that I tripped across an ad for Preemptive Love… And I fell in love: with the mission, the approach, the messaging.
I think one of the most prominent myths about displaced people is that they want to leave their homes. Those on the outside don’t understand that leaving home is a last resort, only considered when all other options have been exhausted. For me, the critical difference between Preemptive Love and other organizations is that they work to eliminate the roots of problems. They work to create options. They work to change the way we see our fellow humans.
So, it was with gusto that I made my first donation and started shopping at their online store. Then, it wasn’t long before I wanted to do more and looked for volunteer opportunities. I was thrilled to become an Encourager, tasked with hand-writing letters to donors. It was something I could do that fit into my life as it is now.
Not only do I appreciate being part of such a welcoming and purpose-driven community, I feel such hope and satisfaction when I sit down with my donor list and see so many different names from so many different places. I am sure that if I could meet these people, they would be of all races, religions, and political beliefs. Yet, here they are, united to bring about peace.
My heart swells with this tangible reminder that people are resilient, adaptable, generous, and kind. And I am confident that together we will create a better tomorrow.
