My heart misses Syria, but not for the chic cafes along bustling streets and the virgin piña coladas and happy friendships. Its not the amazing historical significance of the black stoned architecture and cobbled streets or the children and their midday soccer games in the middle of the street with intermittent potato chip and cucumber breaks. Its not even because of my own relatives, lost amidst a world of cruel heartlessness and struggling to maintain lifes normality in the middle of a government onslaught. My heart aches for Syria because my heart aches for God, and this is the land that I, a broken teenager, was able to learn His language.
Posted on: Sun, 28 Dec 2014 19:53:23 +0000