A Tale of Two Childhoods

I had the pleasure of meeting a new friend last year, another mom in my homeschool co-operative. Over lunch one day, in the loud and rowdy church gymnasium, she told me that she was originally from Afghanistan and had escaped with her parents to America during the 1980s.  I confessed to her that I did not know much about Afghanistan's political history in that era, so she explained that the Soviets had invaded Afghanistan during those years, starting a series of conflicts (which I would later learn) that would be four decades in the making.  I peppered her with a few more personal questions, and she was very open and willing to tell me more about her childhood experiences of abuse and terror, and how, even now, it effects her as an adult.  She also told me that many of her other family members, like her uncle and cousins, were not so fortunate to flee from Afghanistan and died at the hands of the Taliban.

Months after our lunch together, I had the opportunity to carve out some dedicated time to learn more about the history of Afghanistan.  I was accompanying my husband on a work trip and had an unscheduled day to rest and relax before I met up with him for dinner.   So, even though this was not the lightest vacation reading material, I enjoyed the uninterrupted time to learn more and reflect.  That day in our hotel room, my heart just ached as I read for hours about decades-worth of war involving the USSR, the harsh rule of the Taliban in the mid-90s, and the current war which began when the U.S. launched the War on Terror after the September 11th attacks.  Other than reading a few novels and watching disjointed news briefs on television, I had never before stopped to piece together this nation's history, or process my friend's experience, in such a comprehensive way.

I thought about what my friend's childhood must have looked like in the '80s, and contrasted that with my own.  Here's what I came up with:

My childhood:

Her childhood:

But as I was processing all of this, a very firm conviction gripped my heart:
despite our drastically different upbringings and experiences, we both have the very same need--Jesus.

My friend comes from a war-torn country filled with terror, violence, and abuse.
I come from a place of  relative ease, safety, security, and comfort.
But we both need Jesus!!  My friend and I were both lost and alone, helpless and hopeless without the love of God and His forgiveness, redemption, and inheritance through Christ.

This struck me while on a mission trip to the Philippines (you can read more about this here) and it strikes me every time I scroll through Netflix and watch sitcoms, documentaries, dramas, and comedies alike.

We all need Jesus.

I am so glad that my friend was able to escape the terrors of war and live here in the United States.  She is married and has three children and recently converted to Catholicism from Islam (which also comes with new challenges from her family of origin).  She has a personal relationship with Jesus Christ and has a fresh new identity in Him.  I am grateful that the Lord placed her in my life to teach and encourage me in unique ways.  Most of all, I am thankful for Christ, that He loves us and saves us, despite who we are...no matter where we are on the globe.


(Photo sources, from top to bottom: 123rf.com; thegazettereview.com; liketotally80s.com; warisboring.com)