Meet Selena // Tearfund

There was a moment in Malawi that I won't forget. A moment that makes me cringe at the thoughts that went through my head. 

We had been filming and gathering stories all day, it was hot, and it had been a really frustrating start to the day and I was feeling it. When we first landed in Malawi we wanted to find a story that best told of what we saw. We saw huge devastation to the land and lives of the people who relied on it. However, over the first few days, we couldn't find the right jigsaw piece; the story that would best translate what was going on, on the ground. 

As our final day of filming was coming to a close, Trywell, our amazing Malawian host [man at the start of the film] brought us to see a lady that he knew. Her name was Selena. We got everything set up for the interview on camera. A secondary camera had been set up and it was good to go.  As I set up the main interview camera I set the frame of the shot and paused. I looked through the camera at Selena who was sitting there composing herself.  For some reason I knew this would be our story even though I had no knowledge of this lady. We rolled the cameras and below is the story we got. 

Selena was incredible. Her story speaks for itself and as we listened to her it was clear just how strong and determined she was even though she was fighting against the odds trying to make things right for her family. 

As I finished up the shots of Selena and prepared to head out two things happened.

First I had the immediate sense of outrage like a pressing sense of the injustice, followed shortly [too shortly] by a sense of that if I just forgot what I saw then my life didn't  have to change one bit. 

I can remember being horrified at myself as we packed up the van and said our goodbyes to the village. I closed the door on the van as the kids surrounded us and I remember the weird sense of relief that I felt when I closed the door and got back into the air conditioned van. There was now a physical barrier between me and the horror that I had experienced. 

It's not the first time I have been faced with stories and realities that I struggle to process, and my reaction has been cold. 

I can remember filming stories of people on the Syrian boarder telling us how their children had been killed or other family members and I felt nothing.

I have thought about this feeling long and hard in an attempt to understand it. There is clear evidence that I am deeply affected by the stories and realities that I have experienced during trips to countries around the world, but understanding this numb feeling has brought me to the conclusion that when I experience something in life where I have the option of putting distance between me and the reality, I will pick that. My reality was that I was getting back into a air conditioned car and was able to fly home to the comfortable life that I had created around me. 

The comfort I have created in my life is like a drug. A drug that I have become addicted too. A drug that is robbing me of true connection with the world around me because surely if I wasn't so addicted to the comfort around me, when I experienced the realities of the people that I met in Malawi, my life would be forced to change? Do I really want that? 

The differences between Selena's reality and mine are VAST. However, what I have found is that the source of a lot of the differences are choice. I have the choice to jump into a car and forget about what is going on. I have the choice to ignore that people's lives are being destroyed by violence in Syria. I have the choice to go wrap myself up in comfort. Selena and millions of people around the world through no fault of their own have no choice but to live the life that they have been given, so whenever her crops fail due to unpredictable weather patterns caused by climate change, the only choice is to find, something, ANYTHING, that will give some sense of nutrition to her family.

The choices I make in my life might be good choices for me and for my family, but how can I make choices that affect the people around the world whose choices are extremely limited? How different would my life look if for one year in 2017 I challenged myself to make smarter choices, choices that go beyond my need for comfort but seek to change the lives of others around the world. Not to be a hero, far from it, Selena is way more of a hero here, but if I start to get my head around the fact that I have choices in life that negatively affect people around the world like Selena, SURELY I should be trying to do something about it. 

In 2017 the choice I will be making is to live my life in a way that positively affects others. Challenging myself out of the comfort, challenging myself to show true care, not just the sort of care that sounds good. 

““A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.” ”

— Albert Einstein

Malawi // Tearfund

In April this year I travelled out to Malawi to document how the changing weather patterns across the world are effecting the poorest communities. 

I went out to shoot a film about what I saw and come back with some stories. I will post the film in tomorrows blog but here are a number of stills that I got from all too short time in the beautiful country of Malawi. 

Malawi was one country I had heard LOTS about but never been too, as my mum did part of her study in her academic journey to move from being a nurse to a midwife. At the time, Mum being in Malawi meant one thing to me... I had unlimited access to her car and I could treat it like my own. A few days into having this access, when I had parked the car on a street to head into my work to complete a shift in a local clothes store, I get news that the car had been burnt out. So the memory of Mum being away is a vivid one. I also remember when she came home I would wind her up [nothing strange there] that if anyone spent longer than 30 secs in our house, she would get the Malawi pictures out. 

A few hours after landing I started the see why it had such an impact on my mum. First thing I notice when I get to a place are the people, they are what interest me, not always the landscape or the surroundings. The Malawian people we met as soon as we arrived made it clear the trip was going to be a memorable one. 

In tomorrows post I will share more about the specific stories of how the changing weather patterns are having a negative effect on the ground in especially the rural communities in Malawi. 

Foy Vance // Ulster Hall, Belfast // 5th December 2016

My first full time job was a youth worker in a church in Bangor. I remember being there for a week or so whenever I heard a song come on someones iPod that I recognised but had never heard the voice before. 

'She was more like a beauty queen, from a movie scene'

I was mesmerised and kept hitting repeat. When I enquired about who this guy was singing Billie Jean, I felt like I was being let into a Bangor secret. 

Don't know if this mans' talent was ever a secret or I was just late to the party but I have been following and loving the music of Foy Vance ever since. 

After being in touch with his management I was invited down last Monday night to the Ulster Hall to photograph the whole night from start to finish including getting photos of the band with their final Movember efforts [well done lads]

This was the first of a two show run in the Ulster Hall, the second being tonight of  Foy's three studio albums; his latest, The Wild Swan, is the one I have given least attention to. I don't know why. I just wasn't getting it.

When Foy plays live, he creates an energy in the room that few others can. I have experienced this energy many times. One of my favourites was a surprise Christmas gig he did in a brilliant small pub/club in Belfast called The Menagerie. It was once owned by local DJ and producer David Holmes. During the build up to the gig there was music being played over the sound system that really moved me, I remember going up to the sound guy [who I then later realised was David Holmes himself] and asking what the music was and he, full of animation told me it was a small singer songwriter from America he had been introduced to called Bon Iver. He told me to go buy his new album 'For Emma, forever ago'. So the night after I called into HMV in Belfast and picked up the CD and it has been one my most played albums ever. 

Both Bon Iver and Foy have moved their music careers forward both in the creation of music and in public recognition.

Monday I was honoured to witness the best Foy show I have ever seen on almost every level. The size of the venue [sold out over two nights], THE BAND, the production, the arrangement, song selection, support acts [Dana Masters & Ryan McMullan], crowd... etc etc.

People who are heading into Belfast tonight to see the final show of a long tour leg are in for an early Christmas gift. A gift FULL of emotion, passion and traditional Foy humour. 

The Wild Swan has been an ever present sound in my ears this week, with a feeling that the trick that I missed on its initial release, I have finally caught the heart of it at this show. I now with slight embarrassment say, I get it! 

“Let me carry your burden
Get you back on a high when you’re feeling low
When the weight’s too heavy but you won’t let go”

— Foy Vance - Burden

[Make sure you are there for the support, as its been hand picked by Foy due to raw talent]

Credits & thanks to...

Foy Vance - Headline Act

Dana Masters - Support Act

Ryan McMullan - Support Act 

Lee Mitchell - Tour Manager 

Ulster Hall - Venue

A deafening silence.

When you are a photographer you get asked to be present and capture some of the most important moments in peoples lives. In these moments, you become acutely aware of the emotions in the room, you are looking for verbal or more often than not, non verbal cues to give you the opportunity to be in the best position to take the picture that most poignantly captures what is happening.

Towards the end of October, during a wedding I was photographing, I sat down to dinner, with most of my days work finished, my mind started racing with all the last minute things I'd yet to do before flying to LA the next morning with work.  My whirring thoughts were interrupted by a text from my sister Victoria. She was wondering what I was doing. Not realising I was getting on a flight first thing, she was contacting me to see if there was any chance of me coming down to her work in Belfast to take some photos of her friend.  

At this point I should mention my sister is a midwife and this friend had just given birth to a little baby boy called Padraig earlier that day. 

Two days earlier the family had been given the devastating news that they couldn't find a heartbeat. 

Briege, Padraigs very brave Mum still had the unimaginable task of delivering him. 

He was delivered the afternoon and I said to my sister the only time I could do was late that night. So after finishing the wedding in Bushmills, I jumped in the car.  The whole 50 miles I spent trying to get my head around how Briege and Mario must be feeling. 

I was acutely aware of the privilege and the pain of being invited to photograph the wee man before his Mum and Dad had to say goodbye to his little body. 

The moment I stepped into the room, the silence was deafening. 

Vicky and myself spent the next hour with him and his amazing Mum and Dad. I sat and listened, trying to understand how they must be feeling and only coming inadequately close as I tried to place myself in their shoes. On a couple of occasions the silence was pierced with the faint noise of a baby waking in the room next to the private room we sat in, bringing into stark contrast the silence of our room. 

I have always been a big fan of the work my Mum (who is also a midwife) and sister do, aiding new life into this world everyday. That night though I swoll with admiration & pride for the amazing work they (that is often unheard and unseen) when things don't go right for new parents.

I often get to be part of the very best and brightest days in people lives, the family reunions, the first dances, the vows, the smiles and I get to share a little in their joy.  And that stays with me.

But etched in a deeper part of me still, is the honour of being allowed into that sacred silent space of saying goodbye, to capture the courage of loving parents to face into the unimaginable.  And what a privilege to have got to see with my own eyes, little Padraig.

David C. Clements // The Empire Music Hall // Belfast December 2015

The week leading up to Christmas I continued working with David C. Clements in the lead up to his album launch in February at a very memorable  gig in The Empire Music Hall.

I had the opportunity to document the whole night and a lot of fun doing it.

Massive shoutouts have to go to:

Thomas at Old Fang.

Ian Jordan and everyone who fought against a temperamental in house sound system all night.

Jaime Niesh for his beautiful support performance.

and 

DCC and all his team. Incredible night. 

This debut album 'Longest Day in History' comes out on the 19 February, you can pre order it by clicking on the album cover below. He will also be playing an album launch show on the 11th March in Belfast click HERE for more details.

David C. Clements // Waterfall Shoot

David C. Clements is one of the finest singer songwriters around. In early 2016 he releases his long awaited debut album, The Longest Day in History. 

I feel privileged to be working with him and his team on photos. 

I look forward to sharing other photos from this campaign. 

On a mild summers day David & I came up with the concept of being submerged in water and put our ideas into action. We managed to come out in one piece, even after I slipped and nearly fell into the water, cameras and all, and then during the underwater shots, David nearly collapsed with the cold but was all good in the end. 

Location: Glenariff Forest Park, Co. Antrim, Northern Ireland

My Dear Mother EP has been released on a free download HERE if you want to hear a teaser to the album release. 

---

Pete Waugh // Half Irish

You know what? When I come to think of it, in most places in my life, I am very fortunate.

Not just because I am on the balcony of a bar in the south of France having had the most relaxing week of my life with nearly another week still to go [I am ignoring the horrible Karaoke going on inside the bar, yes you guessed it, Let It Go is being screamed by 4 or 5 seven year old girls]. 

If you scrolled through my phonebook you would find some of the best people this world has to offer. Some take a bit of getting used to before you can truly appreciate them. Others are so warm on the outside, it has you question whether its an act. I have to be honest with you, growing up in school there was a guy in the year below me that was like that. His generosity of spirit was so vast that I thought something was up. Something didn't seem right. He has to be covering up something. But I knew his sister and she was just brilliant too. So for the first wee while I held this character at arms length. Over fifteen years later, this same person has me sitting in the warmth of an evening in France, just briefly wishing I could be back in cold rainy Belfast.

Pete Waugh was this young man in school I just couldn't understand. Surely nobody could be this kind and positive. Over these last fifteen years, Pete wore down my cynical heart. When that happened a few months into our friendship, I knew I had someone that was important I held onto. I had a friend that was special.

When Pete started to pursue writing I thought it was cool. Lots of people I knew were trying their hand at new skills, I wasn't long into being a photographer myself. He took a chance on me. He asked me to do his wedding photos. It was without a doubt the hardest wedding I have ever done. Not because Pete & Kerry are hard to take photos of, I think the camera loves them as much as they love the camera, but it SNOWED! Not just a pretty dusting of snow, but the sort of snow storm that means you have to cancel the evening party of your wedding. As I drove up the the beautiful Lisanoire Castle that day, I dont remember passing anyone else on the road up from Belfast. No one else seemed daft enough to be out on the road. When we got there, the beautiful couple couldn't wait to get outside to taken some photos in the blizzard. Kerry had prepared by finding gold Ugg wellyboots online and popped them on and was good to go. It was so much fun. 

Since their wedding I had a few photo shoots with Pete, but the latest was without a doubt my favourite. Not because it was my best work, or anything like that. But it was the finish line to a project I had been involved in for a while which included making a video. Seeing one of my best mates standing there with a book that represented a distant dream a number of years previous was amazing. 

There has been a push within the photography world to remind everyone of the origins of photography in this digital age. #filmisnotdead appears on my instagram feed quite a lot. Photographer friends of mine who where photographers before digital became the industry standard or new photographers wanting to push their skills and learn the valuable lessons film photography can teach the trigger happy digital photographer. People ask me did I start with film, and of course I 'started' with film. I was born in 1984, I didn't have a digital camera til I was 20. But I had never got into the processing in a dark room or anything. I applied in school to be part of the photography [film] club but was turned down because it was oversubscribed. However, I can say with a great degree of confidence that I only became interested in being a photographer when digital cameras came into play. I could even go as far as saying, even though it may be offensive to my craft and profession, I have zero interest in film photography. This doesn't mean I dont have the utmost respect for people who do, or think I can appreciate the different skills involved and can even conceded that people who use film, are better technical photographers than me, not a problem. It just isn't for me [famous last words]. It took me 19 years to realise that I have a different way of learning. It has then taken me near ten more years to be confident enough in my learning style to rely on it. I am an experiential learner. I learn by doing. The immediacy of digital photography gave me the understanding to learn at a pace that kept me interested. I got into photography just as social media was kicking off too. So instantaneous learning and then pseudo instant feedback from people online gave me the confidence to push myself further. This has held true in my whole career as a photographer.

Now take writing a novel. Getting up each day, carving up words to paint a world that up to this point in time only existed in your mind. Now repeat that for days/months/maybe even years on end. Only taking a couple of pit stops to show people to whats going on to see if you are on point. Then you show your work to some people who tell you what changes need to be made. 85,000 words or so later, you print the book up, tell your friends and family about it, set up a Facebook page, and open a shop for pre sale. You then watch as orders come in for it. You then throw a party to thank everyone for buying the book and what to expect [which was tonight].

AND.

THEN.

YOU.

WAIT. 

I have not read Half Irish although a copy will sit proudly on my bookshelf. I am also not much of a reader, I have told Pete that I will help him release the audio book. I am sure there are some people who will try and poke holes in the book, some will not get it, but others will allow themselves to  'quantum leap' into the story and live the lives of those printed on the page. 

I am told by my wife I don't suit hats, I tend to agree with her, but if I did, and from time to time wore one, I would use this time to take my hat off in appreciation not just for the talent of my good friend Peter but for the inner drive and confidence to get to today.  

Today I am more aware than I was yesterday that dreams can come true. Not by sitting back and wishing upon a star but by taking steps forward and allowing them to fly. 

Mr P J S Waugh, congratulations sir. You have one very proud friend here. You inspire me everyday, looking forward to seeing where this path leads you to. Half Irish? Nah, Full legend! 

DREAMS

-dc

Strandeen B&B

One of the best things about living on the beautiful North Coast of Ireland is the scenery and beaches. 

For the last year I have been working with Debbie at Strandeen B&B - A beautiful 5* B&B with an amazing view. Debbie has poured her heart into this, topping it off with beautiful artisan organic and locally sourced food. 

My most recent visit was to get some images on the newly redecorated sitting / dining room, and the main guest bedroom suite. 

I love getting to do photos here as Debbie is passionate about giving her guests a relaxing and healing experience with while allowing them to enjoy the North Coast. 

Lebanon // Part Five // Final Day in Bekaa

Over the past week I have been sharing some of the experiences I had from my trip to Lebanon at the end of March.

I have tried to write this a few times hence the delay. Today is the final post. I want to thank you all for liking and sharing. I also want to thank those who have been kind and contacted me to tell me how it has affected them. As a story teller, all you want to do is tell your story, via words or images, in a way that allows people to experience some of what you experienced. So, part five, let's go. 

I knew very little about Lebanon before I found out I was going there. 

I was unaware of the social and political history. Upon doing my research and talking to people when I was out  I was even more amazed by how the Lebanese are reacting to the Syrian refugees. For over 20 years ending in 2005, Syria occupied Lebanon. From stories I have heard and things I have read, to say they occupied with a firm hand would be an understatement. So in 2011 when war broke out in Syria and the Syrians started crossing the boarder, you can imagine for a lot of people that this wasn't a welcome sight. 

I can only speak of the people I met and the organisation I was documenting the work of [Heart for Lebanon] but watching the reaction of Christians towards their Muslim brothers and sisters was inspiring. It's as if they read their bible  and started taking the challenging passages of Jesus seriously. For years the passage that has kept coming back to me has been:

“39 “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? 38 When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? 39 When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

40 “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’”

— Matthew 25: 39-40 [NIV]

This passage is one that I speak on but RARELY act on. However, over the few days I was on site with Heart for Lebanon, I not only saw these things being done, but the heart that they serve with is something I could only aspire to. I watched as people came to pick up their food package, every single time, they were engaged by at least one member of staff with a smile and a question. I then watched and listened when the staff were offsite and as they told stories of the people they came into contact with I saw their hearts break all over again. 

We conducted one final interview on our third day in camp. It was with a lady and her husband. Strangely the husband requested that his wife spoke on behalf of their family. One of the children was with them and she sat patiently as the mother recounted her story. 

Her demeanour was quite calm and unemotional. So it was with great surprise when the translator told us her story that she had just told to him. 

She was traveling with her family from one village in Syria to another. As they approached a check point the  guards at the check point opened fire. 5 of the bullets that were fired hit her 11 year old son in the head. Her son unsurprisingly died of the injuries inflicted upon him. Her father in law was also hit and he died too. So a simple journey from one village to another changed their lives forever. Her demeanour was misleading. Her grief, whilst still very fresh had made her numb.

Strangely I was numb too. When I heard the story I was disgusted with myself that I didn't have an emotional reaction. In the short period of time that i had been there, my heart had already started to become hardened to the stories I was hearing.  

I asked Bashir, one of the staff members how he keeps going. How he protects his heart whilst keeping it soft. He says he has one story that for him keeps him going. It drives him forward, the one he revisits. 

He tells of a grandmother who had to look after this small baby when they arrived in Lebanon because the mother of the child [her daughter] had died in the fighting in Syria. The grandmother couldn't produce any milk and she couldn't afford any. So for days she struggled to find milk with no prevail. Days later this little starving baby died and was buried in one of the camps. For Bashir, this broke his heart and drives him forward. It was his line in the sand. 

In 2011, in Northern Ireland one of the things that had people up in arms was Pop superstar Rihanna shooting her music video for 'We Found Love' in Belfast and surrounding areas. When the video came out  people were upset at the hook line in the song, as if there was a reason other than her touring schedule that made her shoot this video in Belfast. 

“We found love in a hopeless place”

— Sang by Rhianna, Wrote by Calvin Harris

Walking around the camps in Lebanon it definitely felt like the most hopeless place on earth. I have heard someone describe it like time is standing still. 

For me, one of the biggest criticisms that is thrown at Christians that has the most sticking power is that Christians are known for what they don't do, rather that what they do do. The Christians I met through Heart for Lebanon, not one of them ever told me what they don't do. It was refreshing that the heart for service was one that didn't get tainted by arguments of church stewardship, conflicts over differences or even a bakery*. 

I have spent a lot of time thinking about the few days I had in Lebanon and the hours that we spent in camps. I have been searching for the thin line of hope that exists there. Then it dawned on me. 

Hope walks into these camps everyday with supplies.

Hope knows the residents names.

Hope touches the knees and hands of the broken.

Hope listens to the painful stories.

Hope weeps with the broken.

Hope shines its light in dark places.

Hope causes people to smile with its presence, even if only for a minute. 

Hope bandages up the scars of the past with its healing touch.

Hope waits with you. 

Hope takes the shape in extraordinarily ordinary people. 

Hope is relentless. 

Hope does the simple things like just getting up in the morning and being there. 

Hope strives for resolution even when the horizon line of change is nowhere to be seen. 

Hope has a name. 

Hope is Chris

Hope is Denise

Hope is Bashir

Hope lies in the faces and the in the actions of the rest of staff at Heart for Lebanon. 

As I left Lebanon, taking a last look at the sunrise over Beirut as we walked through the doors of the airport, I thanked God for people who take their faith seriously. Not in a way that gets upset when someone offends them through something they have said or done, but who are upset and offended when there is something that isn't being said or done. 

To that I say Amen [so be it]

*https://vimeo.com/123653742

Lebanon // Part Four // School of Hope

When I was 17 I was very fortunate. 

I had staggered through GCSE's and miraculously was allowed back into school. However, my joy of getting in only lasted a year when with the same lazy attitude towards my studies,and with a 'slight' preference to focusing on the social aspect of school, landed me with pretty poor AS Level results. I knew how bad the results were when the they literally spelt how I was feeling.

DUU. 

I remember as clear as I see the screen in front of me now, being called into the headmasters' office at school a couple of weeks before the start of the new school term. I went with my mum and to be perfectly honest I was hoping he was going to say that he would  give me another chance to improve and let me back in. But he didn't. He said I had two options;

1. Head on to technical college.
2. Repeat the year.

I had never thought about repeating the year and immediately in my head dismissed it and resigned myself to thinking of what options I had at technical college. To be honest, something more technically minded seemed like a better call. For the majority of school I felt like I was my friends'light relief when it came to results, they would all be challenging each other for the most amount of A's and I was perversely winning by being the best at being the worst. 

Whilst in a day dream of what my life in technical college was going to be like, I was jolted out of it when I picked up the second half of a sentence he was saying. He said 'because a year out of my life, at my age was a big thing, however, a year out of your life, at your age wasn't that big'. Wait a minute I thought, he is trying to convince me to repeat the year. 

During the next 20 mins of a conversations, my life literally turned around. Yes, that seems extreme, but let me explain. 

He told me that he believed in me.

He believed in me so much that he personally wanted to explore the subject options that best suited my interests and skills. He believed in me so much that he would also meet with me every week and check in with my teachers to see how I was getting on.

Wow. 

Having that level of encouragement spoken into your life by someone who had no blood relation to me or had nothing to gain from me left me speechless. If I left school no one would have been surprised. No one would have pointed any fingers and said that I should have been given another chance. 

I agreed to repeating the year. Over the next two years as I finished off my secondary level education I lifted my game. I still enjoyed the social elements of school that I still miss to this day, but I remember the day opening my final A Level results and seeing the letters

C

D

E

The youth work course I wanted to get onto only required me to get DD, so I knew I was in. 

Now, this is not me saying how important in life it is to get good [ish] exam results and go to university. There are lots of examples of people who have left school to go onto technical colleges etc and have done really feel from it. No, I am saying that a senior figure in my life who I respected took the time to believe in me. He was FAR more interested in me as a human being than the exams results I could deliver, but could see how my lack of effort was not me being the best I could be. When no one else believed in me, he did.

He stood in the place between my doubt and my dreams and said, give me your hand, I trust you can do this. 

Mr Young, to this day is my hero. I have tried to explain to him how much his actions influenced my life, however, no words can explain this, I am just trying to lead a life that explains it better. 

Day two in Lebanon we walked into a school in Beirut. This was a slight detour on our planned trip, as our partner couldn't host us in Bekaa that morning, so he arranged for us to visit a school. The school wasn't directly supported by Tearfund, but Tearfund support a programme that aids the families of the kids that attend. 

This was a school that was set up by Heart for Lebanon to teach some of the Syrian refugees who were living in Beirut, the simple literacy and numeracy skills needed, as well as some other subjects. 

On the surface this school seemed like any other school. As we walked up the stairs towards the classrooms we got ushered into the staff room. Immediately we were greeted with such warmth by the staff. The embarrassing thing was that I wasn't really interested in the school, because I knew we had lots of work still to do in Bekaa, so my mind was elsewhere. 

Within 5mins of being in the staffroom my body language was  reminiscent to how I am whenever Julie has asked me to hoover upstairs in the house. I was sitting with my back in a sofa, not really paying attention, thinking of all the stuff I should be doing. There was a knock at the door and a little girl came through the door. She was visibly upset, and immediately engaged in dialogue with one of the ladies we had just met. The girl sat in a chair and through her tears and that sporadic breathing you have whenever you can't gather yourself, was putting her case to this teacher. 

My occasional glances at what was happening with the girl turned into a full stare of wonder as I watched this teacher comfort this pupil. She very gently placed her hands on the sides of the little girl's face and wiped her tears away, time and time again. She held the little girls head into her chest. I could image the still and steady heartbeat of the teacher as she was quietly soothing this little girl. My Tearfund college Stella then went and spent sometime with her. I could see that the interaction was moving Stella, tears visibly forming in her eyes too. 

This teacher who I hadn't given any attention to now suddenly  had all of it. 'Sorry, remind me of your name' 'Denise' She replied. I then explained that how she interacted with that little girl was really moving. She said that the girl was feeling unwell but didn't want to go home. I could see in Denise's eyes that home for this girl wasn't a place she enjoyed. I don't know many primary aged pupils who whilst feeling unwell would choose to stay at school. She explained to us that this girls story was tough and that was also the reason why she was upset.

Denise then asked if we wanted a tour of the school. 

She showed us round each of the classrooms introducing us to each of the classes and individuals in each class as if they were her own children. I can feel the glow on my face when I see my boys, and although I can't see it in myself, I can recognise it in hers. 

We walked past a wall of photos of the kids from the school and a few of the pictures showed the pupils at McDonalds. I commented on how happy they all looked. Denise looked at the picture in a way that took her back into that memory of the day. She smiled as she told us how much the kids loved it. Her face turned as she then went on to explain the heartache she felt when most of the kids wrapped up the majority of their food to take back to their families to share. 

Denise and the staff at this school are doing the same thing that Mr Young did for me. 

They aggressively refused to give up on them. 

Denise joined us for the rest of the morning as we visited a lady whose kids go to the school and we heard about the heartbreaking story of what led her to Lebanon from Syrian and the issues she is now left with. 

Denise and her staff seem to be cut from different cloth. Denise arrives early in the morning because some of the pupils leave the house as soon as they get up to get to school and Denise wants to be there to open up. She also stays late, when I say late, I mean into the evening time, allowing the kids to stay on to watch movies. Allowing them to be children.

Lots of times I hear about teaching being a vocation. I have lots of friends who take their vocation [calling] very seriously and the pupils they come into contact with are fortunate to have them.

Denise didn't see teaching as her vocation, she saw being there for these kids as her vocation. That even meant marching herself into the middle of a Hezbollah gathering because she heard one of her boys in school had got dragged into in. She marched into the middle of it and demanded the boy came with her. 

She didn't give up on him, at any cost. She left the many to go and get the one. 

I am sure I have heard that story before.  

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