If my great grandmother, didn’t have the foresight to send her children (my grandfather) to America in the early 1900’s, I could be a Syrian refugee, fleeing for my life. I could be living in a refugee camp watching childhoods stripped away in unimaginable ways. This truth kept me awake many nights. So I asked myself, what could I do, to make a difference? What small act, can I do, that could spread joy to people in a refugee camp? These beautiful human beings, my brothers and sisters, need so much help and support. When kids are running around joyful and playing, it inevitably brings a smile to others faces. When you hear someone laughing in hysterics, you can’t help it, you naturally join in. It's contagious in the best possible way.
Then, the idea came. I would ask friends and families to donate a soccer ball and/or a pump and I would personally bring them to Greece. I would sit with families and share my heart through my compassionate eyes. I would play with the kids and show them a few tricks with the ball. I would pass out handmade cards from around the world to the families and let them know someone is sending their love and support; that someone took the time to draw pictures and share what brings their heart joy. Pictures transcend language. Soccer is a universal language. I HAVE to do this, now that it is a part of my consciousness. The idea is born.