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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.

Trisha Leimer was raising her family in Frankfurt, Germany when the global refugee crisis hit a tipping point in 2015. As she volunteered in and out of camps and continued to work with refugees, she developed personal relationships and realized how intertwined their stories are with our own. Together with five other people, she co-founded Their Story is Our Story: Giving Voice to Refugees, a group of artists and writers committed to sharing refugees’ stories in words and images. She talks about the “divine choreography” that pulled them together, as well as personal and gospel insights she has gained while befriending refugees and inviting them into her life.

My experience in meeting Bolaji, understanding the life of a refugee deeper, and knowing how I can help has completely transformed my world. It’s healed me in ways I didn’t realize it could. It’s opened my eyes to struggles in the world at large. And ultimately, it’s motivated me to seek ways that I can assist and light the world in my own unique and valuable way.

The question keeps coming to my mind: "Who will I give my life jacket to?"

In today’s refugee children, I see my grandmother. I see in their eyes the rich legacies of hard work and achievement that they will pass on to their families and communities, if they are given a chance to do so. At this moment, they need us. And we need them.

Now it’s my turn to give back. A few years ago, when I read accounts of the flood of refugees flowing towards Europe, I realized their security and dreams had been shattered by forces beyond their control like mine had been decades ago. Their individual stories touched me and helped move me to action.

The western world is facing its own cardiac stress test in the ongoing refugee crisis. The health of our individual and collective hearts is on trial.

In the two and half years since, this flood has mixed and pooled and slowly begun to sink in to the German soil. Like a wildfire brings renewal, this new mass of life contained within its depths the spores of youth, energy and know-how the German economy and social system desperately needs. As they have been worked into the system and nurtured with hope and security, roots are beginning to form and the tender buds of success are just beginning to sprout.

If we would really hear their stories, I know we'd learn something about suffering and loss, resilience and hope. We'd be united in our mutual sorrow, healed by our common humanity. Pain and grief become the common denominator that can bring us together to mourn together and to comfort each other.