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As mankind, living in this world together, we are all "refugees." Because we are members of the same worldwide family, we should have empathy and solidarity for those who are forced to flee from their home countries because their lives are at risk. I help them because I am a refugee and had to flee from my home country with my family to survive!

Whether they come legally or not, people come here because they long to be free. They come not to destroy, but to build.

We received more than we gave — love, friendship, trust and they made me rethink my priorities in life. My work with the refugees affected my kids a lot. I could see their ability to love and their desire to share time with the refugees grow a lot. And they did so without prejudice.

It’s one of the worst things that can happen to you, everything that you treasure and it’s not just things, it’s community, it’s friends, it’s atmosphere, it’s the type of food, it’s memories, it’s all been forcibly left behind.

While out grocery shopping, I came across a family who caught my eye. I worried about putting them on the spot or making them uncomfortable. But when we serendipitously found ourselves in the parking lot across the way from each other, I knew it was my last chance and I'd regret it if I didn't go say something.

Seeing that so many people in the world are afraid of refugees, and are filled with misconceptions about what they represent, I jumped at the opportunity to work with other artists and tell these stories to the world. I wish that everyone could see themselves in these refugees’ faces.

I had so many questions… Why would someone leave their country, travel this far, only to end up homeless?

It then dawned on me that some of these people had been forced to leave their homes because of war, terrorism and other atrocities. Atrocities that my own country was perhaps contributing to. I felt an urge to help people and set off on a series of volunteer trips abroad.

Today, when I read and hear the stories of current refugees, I think of how their experiences parallel my history. To me, their story is my story.

For me, the refugee crisis of the last several years has closely coincided with a growing knowledge of and a strong sense of connection to my forebearers. My ancestors’ life experiences echo the stories of so many whose stories we’ve shared over the last two years.

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.