Enduring Joy: What Serving Refugees Taught Me

Our city’s Catholic Charities recently held a Wellness Fair for its refugee clients. I was able to take a day off and volunteer for it. As part of the fair, refugees received education about various community resources to help support their health and well-being, and were also offered a little pampering.

I was on the pampering crew with a few other young adults. Some of us were responsible for bathing and soaking the feet of the refugees, many of which were women from Africa.

This had to be one of the top 5 experiences of my life thus far. I had never encountered a refugee, yet the refugee situation overseas has been a burden on my heart throughout the last year or two -- one that I have often prayed about, but felt helpless to impact.

It was such a privilege to serve these people who endured unimaginable persecution, in a humbling way, by washing their feet, like Christ and the disciples would have. They have harder lives than I ever will and for most of them, this was a completely new experience to have their feet bathed and soaked in sweet smelling, comforting salts. They loved it.

They struck me with their constant beautiful smiles and inner joy. One of my volunteer partners exclaimed, “I can’t believe how happy they are!” They obviously had hard lives of suffering, with most of them living in refugee camps for 10-20 years before resettling, having to learn a new language, and start their lives over in a new country. It was even vulnerable for them to take off their shoes and socks.

You could see their resilient life experience in their faces, and yet, they had this joy and gratitude. These people were so appreciative of our small service to give them a few moments of relaxation.

It made me realize: Joyful people captivate us. They draw us in. We want to know what makes them joyful because joy is uncommon. How can I be a more joyful person? 

I had the opportunity to talk one-on-one with an older man for a few minutes. He ran a family business in Congo prior to coming overseas. He has eight children and a wife. Now, he works in a factory and lives in a poor area of the city. He showed me a severe burn on his leg that he got at work, and my eyes filled with tears. The guy had no complaints about his life. He even told me that he likes snow, and I laughed.

Afterwards I thought, anyone in my family could have been that man if we lived in a different country. Working in a business. Having to flee from persecution and start over, and now, working manual labor and unable to use his skills. Life completely changed.

Coming close to refugees humbled and swelled my heart. It taught me that true, enduring joy is possible even in the hardest of circumstances. It taught me that we are blessed to have religious freedom to practice and experience our faith, and not be harshly persecuted for it. 

The bathing of their feet taught me that humble service does in fact lead us to joy. Turns out Jesus was right. Who knew washing feet could drive a girl to smiles and happiness. I don’t think I stopped smiling once during that time of preparing, cleaning, and washing basins of warm water, and interacting with the clients. 

Like many acts of service, you learn so much more than you give. In this time of Advent and Christmas, I thank them for teaching me an unexpected lesson on joy.