Loving one another became a way of life for our family since I was a child, when, together with my parents, I started going to the meetings of the Focolare Movement. Knowing the life of unity and love of the Focolare has been an immense gift to me and my family. Let me share with you something about my life in Syria, especially during the war.

Before the war, life was normal and all was well for our family: my parents, my two elder sisters and me, the youngest. However, everything changed when the war began. All of a sudden, we lived under the constant threat of bullets, mortar shells and missiles fired from different directions. I remember how we reacted to the sound of gunfire, throwing ourselves to the ground, moving swiftly to the inner room, to the bathroom, or under the stairs. I also recall my mom bringing the rosary and praying until they stopped firing. The next day, we would see the obituaries of people who had died posted on the church wall. We would go to church scared and anxious to look at these sheets of paper with the names of our loved ones. We prayed there to share in the suffering of our community. Just going to church was dangerous because terrorists always targeted the places where people gathered. I remember one time, holy Mass was coming to an end and we were receiving holy communion. No lights were turned on inside the church so as not to attract attention. There were only candles and flashlights. Suddenly, we heard the sound of incoming missiles outside: when you hear one, you know there will be more. People were frightened, and you could feel that the places hit were very close. Without warning, a mortar struck through the ceiling of the church. Shrapnel rained down, breaking all the windows and one of the big chandeliers, also hitting the floor right where, a few seconds before, people were taking communion. Everyone started screaming and running. With a loud voice, the priest told the people not to run outside but to follow him to a safe way out. We were able to get out through small hidden doors. The mortar shelling lasted a long time and, every day, terrorists bombed us until they had surrounded the city. Those were the worst days.

We would come home at night and thank God for the day, despite everything! The next day, when we left home to go to school, university or work, we would say goodbye to one another as if it was our last moment together, because, at any time, we could have found ourselves before God.

This is how we learned to live and love in the present moment: to be ready and live each day to the fullest, and whatever each day brought me, I would live it to the fullest: to love today, not tomorrow, and to forgive now, not later. I couldn’t hold anything in my heart. Armed gangs and terrorists were present in my city for several months. They surrounded the entire city and cut off water, electricity, and food… There was only one way to get food, and it was dangerous: amid snipers and gunfire.

When people are struggling to survive, they turn into “monsters” who will go to extreme means to stave off hunger and feed their children. One time, a big car full of big, red tomatoes drove into the neighborhood. A lot of people were chasing this car because fruits or vegetables were something we couldn’t get every day. As I went to stand in line, I saw how some armed gangs were shooting in the air to scare people off and get as much as they wanted from that car. I pushed myself through the crowd to be able to get some tomatoes. Everyone was trying to drive me away but, after two hours of struggle, I managed to get a box of about 10 kilos of tomatoes. I was very happy with what I had managed to get. However, coming back, I couldn’t help but be affected by the look on the faces of the people I met, so I decided to give away a large amount to relatives and neighbors. I prepared bags of tomatoes to share with them. It was a simple act of love, but you can’t imagine how they reacted: They felt loved and later gave us other things they had managed to gather. We felt that we were not alone in these daily difficulties. At a certain point during the war, the time came to leave Syria. Everyone prepared and packed their important belongings to escape for good. In the Movement, I was with the teen boys, the Gen 3, and each meeting, the number of those who attended was less than before.

One of the focolarinos (consecrated laypersons living in a focolare household) started visiting us often in the morning to share breakfast with us and talk. There was such a strong relationship with him that he became like one of our family. Each time he visited us, the day changed for the better, and wonderful things happened that day. One time, for example, peace-keeping security forces came back to many areas of my city; another time, we received good news about the situation, and yet another time, my sister was accepted to medical college… We would talk for hours and forget the time. Once, explosives were discovered near the store where my father works. The bomb specialists were trying to defuse the bombs but were unsuccessful. They exploded, destroying everything, including our store. But thank God, my father wasn’t there! This focolarino made me experience God’s love, and the fact that the focolare center remained open during the war, even though the focolarinos were not Syrians, is one of the biggest reasons for our survival. This gave us hope to continue loving and living. So my sisters and I were able to continue studying, and last year, I graduated. I want to do my best to keep my eyes open, and be ready to share this love I have received with everyone I meet.

Bassel Najjar