I want to tell you about 'B'.

It was my first day at tea house. I had spent the afternoon with the children, but as that room closed for English class just the main room was open. My only option was to sit with the women and drink tea. All of the sudden I felt like I was the new kid in the cafeteria...frightening. I took a seat along the wall where the women gather. After a short time, one woman (we'll call her B) took a seat next to me and began to converse with me in the very little English she knew. We exchanged names and places of origin, but that's really as far as we could go. Normally it would have been a completely awkward situation, but B continued to smile at me, caress my strange yellow hair and invited her friends to join in a circle with us. I knew from this moment that B would be a very special person within this journey.

B was a regular at tea house, but it was at showers that she and I were able to grow even closer. I enjoyed her two children, a 5 year-old boy and a 12 year-old girl, but especially enjoyed posing for the many pictures B insisted on taking with all her friends. There is a picture of B and her friends and B and me on my June 13 post.

Here's another pic with Ms Fran. [Her son got a new pair of underwear that day, haha!]It was Thursday, July 3 that B told us she had all the details in line to leave for Italy shortly. It's unclear how refugees find the appropriate papers or tickets in order to move along the Refugee Highway (it's best we don't know because it's likely illegal), but B had things together and was ready to begin the journey.

B had attempted to get out of Greece many months ago with her three children. Unfortunately, passport control stopped her and she was unable to leave. Her oldest daughter, only 15, made it through and was forced to travel all alone. She is currently in Belgium with an uncle and this will be B's final destination if all works out.

What a risk she is taking. As long as she reaches Italy she can attempt to receive political asylum and meet up with the rest of her family. If anything goes wrong she could separated from another of her children and the hope of uniting the family is again gone. The stress of this decision came out during showers. Towards the end of our time B began to weep. She wept because she was scared. Greece was scary enough, but traveling again meant even more new things to encounter. The weight became too much. She wept because she was leaving "all her daughters". All of the Helping Hands staff had become family for B, we all loved each other and would do anything for each other. There was comfort in this place.

In order to prepare for the journey B has cut and colored her hair and found the most modern European clothing in order to not stick out. I always thought B was beautiful, but you could tell that she never found joy in looking at herself. As a woman I've always felt beauty as a burden. In our society it is what keeps women in a constant struggle with others and ultimately within oneself. Defining beauty, either inward or outward, has always been difficult for me, but B showed me beauty last Thursday.

B had her hair colored and cut and her friend had given her some lipstick. "10 years younger, 10 years younger," she repeated with a huge smile. She couldn't stop looking in the mirror and I couldn't help but repeat the word "beautiful" because B was beautiful. It wasn't the fact that she colored her hair or painted her nails (although I've realized the intimate power you hairstylists [Megan, Sheri, Val] have). It was because she was looking at herself as worthy, confident and full of hope. B possessed the beauty all of us in this world can only dream of. She left the ARC that day without her headscarf...a seemingly insignificant detail that says more than any of us Westerners can grasp.

B is attempting her journey to Italy as I type. I miss her already. Please pray that she will be greeted with grace and that she never loses the beauty God has given her. And for us, pray that we all search for a simple glimpse of 'B' beauty.