Sometimes Hope Looks Like a Wheelchair

When Safana fell and broke her hip, she lost hope.

Unable to stand or walk, and unable to purchase a wheelchair, she was treated as a burden. Her husband abandoned her.

When violence engulfed her community, forcing her family to flee their homes, Safana’s brother carried her through the desert to safety.

She was safe from ISIS, but still unable to free herself from the burden of immobility.

Then you showed up—with love, hope, and opportunity.

Over the years, you have showed up when no one else does. You have injected hope into hopeless situations and stood in the face of violence and fear, with your preemptive love.

sisterhood soap

Sometimes showing up looks like several hundred thousand pounds of food for starving families. And sometimes it looks like a simple wheelchair.

In the grand scheme of all the chaos and pain, a wheelchair can seem inconsequential. But you have long believed with us that love lies in the little things, just as much as it does in the big things.

Today, Safana and other disabled refugees have wheelchairs and crutches—thanks to you.

This is Safana today…

The picture may be blurry, but the impact is crystal clear.

This is what happens when you show up. Sometimes, hope looks like a blurry picture of a happy woman who was given her mobility back.

Thank you.