It’s happened on two different occasions recently that we’ve evacuated people, only to have their houses get hit by some kind of artillery a few hours later. One instance stands out to me because the family lived in what we considered a relatively safe area. We had just been to a really hot zone, and the chaplain we work with looked at us and said something about this place being so calm compared to where we had just been.

We went up to their apartment to help them carry their bags down. As we waited for his mom to finish packing, the son was snuggling his kitty one last time and completely melted my heart with his charming smile! We brought them to our shelter and then got the news a few hours later that the house we had evacuated them from had been hit. Some might call it luck; I call it God’s perfect timing.

We took them to the train station the next day. As we said our goodbyes, I couldn’t help but pray that God would protect them and hope they could build a new life—one that’s better than what they left behind.