I understand Arabic a little, but I need help understanding Kurdish. I turn to Sarya, another Syrian woman who speaks English and is sharing the evening with us at Irem's apartment.

"She is saying you help us in so many ways; you are like our ---." Sarya pauses, searching for the English word.

"What is the word in Arabic?" I ask.

"Maybe Muhafiz?" She says uncertainly.

I google the word. "Ah, governor?"

"Yes. That's the word!" Sarya smiles triumphantly. "She is saying you are not like government agencies. You are like our benefactor because you do so much for us. You help us get settled here."

You are my friends.

"You are my friends," I say. "And I welcome you with joy because of Jesus in me. He is why I do this work, because of His love for me and you."

I cannot tell from Irem's response if she understands what is being translated or not. She looks a little bewildered, but I pray whatever may be lost in translation is communicated effectively through consistent love.

Open Door of Welcome

I pray that the displaced friends I walk alongside in Atlanta will understand the significance of Christ's welcome through our sharing of daily tasks like sorting mail, applying for jobs, translating documents, and spending hours in offices waiting for appointments and navigating complex government systems.

As I dance with them at weddings, accept their invitations to share pots of Syrian chicken sitting on their dining room floor, drink coffee late into the night, laughing and talking about life through limited shared language and Google translate, I pray that the way we love and welcome one another as neighbors would be an open door of welcome into the greatest Love of all.