The Light From God

Saturdays are fresh in my world. They always have been, and I try to keep them that way (incidentally, I love Sundays and Tuesdays too, for other reasons I may write about later). But Saturdays are extra cool these days, because I have an opportunity to build with a set of super dynamic young folks at the community center where I have volunteered for several years: Refugee Community Center.

I have come to expect madd interesting conversations, whether they unfold with students, other volunteers, or staff at the center. Such is the case, I think, when a small group of folks engage in innovative projects where all the participants are expected to shape it. What I don’t presume to expect is how the conversation will unfold, with whom, or about what. Yesterday was no different.

When I asked one of the students, Nurea, if she knew the meaning of her name, she smiled and told me “Ah yes, there is a story to that actually.” We sat down together, and she organized the papers in front of her, as though she was gathering her thoughts about where to begin. “I asked my father about this, some time ago. He told me my Grandmother had named me, and he told me that she told him that ‘Nur-’ the first part of my name means light in Arabic. The rest my Grandmother just added on… I guess she thought it was pretty or something,” she said and shyly looked down at her hands.

“It sure is,” I told her, and I wanted to clarify what I had heard her say the first part of her name means. “So, the first part of your name means ‘light’ as in…” I asked as I motioned up to the florescent classroom-style lights above.

At this, she laughed briefly and then seemed to check back with me to see if I had been serious. “Well, light, yes, but not this kind of light Ms. Jillian!” I raised my eyebrows as if to say, “Oh? Do explain.”

“No, not this kind of light. I’m talking about the light that shines from God. I mean, you know what I mean, right? The light from God, Ms. Jillian. We all have it.”