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Grown men do cry
I’ve just gotten off the phone. My good friend, an architect. Grown man. Shi’ite. Crying. Seeking comfort with a friend not of his sect. And receiving it. He’s here. Safe. His mother is there. In danger. South Lebanon. Under a barrage. Supposedly taking refuge in a ‘Christian’ village with Christian friends. No refuge. Just bombs. Terror. Misery. And unity.
I’ve never seen our people so united. I just came back from a depot for humanitarian aid, organized by a friend of a friend. Within a 24 hour notice period, hundreds of Lebanese responded to the call. Over delivering. As usual. It was full of everything. From laptops to children’s toys. Food. Clothes (all branded of course). We may be displaced, but we’ll never look it. Car after car dropping off items. Offering assistance. I’ve never seen our people so united.
I’ve received news from family in Lebanon about how homes have been opened up for fleeing compatriots. Food is being shared. Love is being shown. And the bombs keep falling.
We take comfort in groups. Every day. Every night. Listening. Talking. Comforting. Planning for our re-emergence. We recount the dark days of our internal conflicts. And we know that those days have disappeared.
I haven’t cried yet. I want to. But I can’t. I take solace in our abilities. In our strength. And I see that our destiny has yet to be realized. But we will realize it, together. As one nation. Under one flag. With a shared history. A deep, rich, glorious history.
Today, Lebanon is united.
Tomorrow will bring challenges. And we are ready.