"My girls went quiet. With each handful of words I read, genuine sorrow began to crease their faces. They were considering it all. The sting of loss. The darkness of despair. The wrongs of injustice. And the need for compassion."
Melissa Dalton-Bradford, co-founder of Their Story Is Our Story, had the opportunity while traveling through Utah last week to attend a reception and a lecture with Arthur Brooks, a prolific writer, remarkable public speaker, president of American Enterprise Institute, and a leading voice for caring for the vulnerable and needy.
At first glance at the material, I knew this was the book we had to publish. My hope is that it brings a greater awareness to this crisis and encourages all who see it to find a way to help.
I believe that Let Me Tell You My Story is now the most important book I have published in my nearly thirty years of publishing.
Brandon Stanton, author of New York Times #1 Bestseller "Humans of New York," has given his endorsement of our book, Let Me Tell You My Story.
A refugee is just someone seeking refuge. And a refuge is a place to survive.
I have come to respect the sacrifices refugees are making. To save their own lives they have willingly left so much of their comforts and traditions behind. They work to integrate their past into the present and must learn new traditions and languages in order to live in a better and safer place. They are remarkable.
Winter was approaching and the only explanation I can fathom for why these men were treated like they were less than animals is because people felt threatened by their presence and perceived them to be an invincible, menacing force. In reality, men are vulnerable precisely because we perceive them to be invincible.
Our camera has one lens, our clipboard one pen, and as we sit knee to knee and look into that one person’s eyes and focus for that moment in time on that one story there is no question that for him or her our efforts mean everything.
Whether they come legally or not, people come here because they long to be free. They come not to destroy, but to build.
Children are the first to see magic, the last to lose hope. Long after adults have given in to despair and cynicism, a child believes in that which is good and right. That is why in the middle of a dusty, abandoned factory-turned-refugee-camp in Greece, you can still hear laughs and cries, hear the patter of feet on the cement floor and feel a tiny hand slip into yours. Despite all that has happened in their short lives, they are willing to trust, to make a new friend, to hope for love returned.