Beneath the flowy blue fabric of her long tunic, her belly is hard to miss.
The pregnancy is a miracle.
Wp Get the full experience.Choose your plan ArrowRight
“We’ve been waiting and trying for four years,” said her husband, a bearded man with unrelenting optimism, energy and sweet eyes that sparkle when he talks about becoming a father any day now.
It’s been four months since they began their journey through dust and deserts, through relentless heat and the kind of damp cold you can’t shake. They stayed in tents, slept on cots and moved between cramped hotel rooms.
All along, they followed the incandescent promise of a new life in America and a safe future for their child.
“Those were distressful days,” he said. “Some people gave up and went back to Kabul. We were told we’d be in the United States in three days. But it took more than a month.”
Story continues below advertisement
When Kabul fell after U.S. troops withdrew from Afghanistan and chaos took over, the man knew he was the only one in his family — the only one who made a career working for the United States as an engineer — who was in immediate danger.
Advertisement
(We are not naming them for that reason, and for the safety of those they left behind. And don’t worry, we won’t hit you over the head with “Mary” and “Joseph” pseudonyms.)
Four days before the start of freshman year, this Virginia teen was trapped in Kabul.
With their future in Afghanistan uncertain, the couple took a chance on what was supposed to be an easy, three-day trip to America — nothing too different from his many business trips to China or Dubai. Instead, it became a month-long slog between rain-soaked camps and cots, in some cases with barely enough to eat because rations were slim and no one was sure any meat was halal.
The journey ended Wednesday night in a Maryland suburb, on a frigid week that will finish with an unseasonably warm and sunny Christmas.
Story continues below advertisement
The two are happy about escaping, and they’re thrilled they found an apartment. They’re grateful that the United States kept its promise to get them out — and that they avoided places with dust and hot sun and the Islamophobia they’ve read about.
Advertisement
“That’s all I said is no Texas and no New Mexico. Maryland is good,” the man said. “But I never, never imagined my son would be born here.”
The couple left behind everything they know and love: the huge family, the multigenerational house with Baba Jon’s overflowing flower and vegetable gardens, their good jobs and all of their plans. He defended his master’s thesis the day Kabul fell. She has spent years in medical school studying to become a cardiologist. They’ll have to start all of that over. Alone.
Story continues below advertisement
“In Afghanistan, there would be 100 people in the house the day he comes,” the man said, allowing the first sag in his seemingly unrelenting pep. “Now it is just us. Just two people and a baby.”
But lo, the coming arrival of the new boy was announced to certain inboxes around the region. And the people came. They came from Bethesda cul-de-sacs and McLean McMansions, bearing gifts.
Advertisement
And because most of them were wise women, the gifts were practical: baby clothes and kitchen utensils, linens, teacups and beds. Forget frankincense. What baby needs that?
All week long, they came to the humble apartment and knocked on the door.
“Each time I dropped off items, I was overwhelmed by their gratitude and calm demeanor,” said Wise Woman No. 1, Julie Garel. “Their courage and conviction that all would be well was a gift to me.
Story continues below advertisement
Garel, 60, saw the list her organization created that asked for kitchenware, bedding and furniture. It didn’t include baby items. Maybe they weren’t sure what they needed.
“We attempted to anticipate some of their needs,” she said. “I delivered lots of diapers, baby shampoo and a baby blanket used by my children many years ago.”
She threw in her father’s household tool kit and night lights — gifts less traditional, perhaps, but far more useful than myrrh.
As Kabul falls, U.S. military families face a painful question. Was it worth it?
Wise Woman Keryn brought the Afghan spices they would need to cook the food of home: garam masala, cumin seed, cardamom pods, cinnamon sticks. And she brought prayer rugs.
Advertisement
Wise Woman Karen donated dressers, a sofa, a dining room table and chairs, among other furnishings.
Story continues below advertisement
Wise Woman Susan brought large serving platters. Wise Woman Erica brought them a hot meal.
The wise women (and yes, there are men, too) connect through KindWorks, a Bethesda-based nonprofit that’s nothing like most of the gala givers of the Beltway,
The group, led by executive director Deb Lang, does immediate, pragmatic and impactful work. The organization’s signature action is refugee home setups such as this one. And the story of one — along with other suggestions for kindnesses throughout the year — is told over the months of its 2022 Kindness Calendar, the keystone to its fundraising. (And yes, I am hitting you over the head with this last-minute gift idea.) Because this right here is that true meaning of Christmas we moan for in our annual lament about the commercialization of the holiday.
Advertisement
Story continues below advertisement
The Afghan couple is watching their first American Christmas season unfurl and sparkle around them. All the blinking lights and red and green and the sales and the shopping are a little overwhelming for them, they admit, as we talked over green tea and a bowl of dried fruit and nuts in their new home.
They’re not Christian, but they know the basics of the original Christmas story, the one about the pregnant woman and the foreign land and the gifts.
And they know that this — the humble table, the knocks every day announcing more gifts, the welcoming hugs — are what the season is really supposed to be about.