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New ADAA Blog Post: Three Syrian Refugee Children on the Streets of Istanbul

“My name is Omar. I came to Istanbul in the summer of 2012. I lost my mom and toys in Aleppo. I was eight and my younger brother, Aziz, was seven when we crossed the border with my dad. Dad received a back injury during the war. We are both working at the textile factory; we weigh threads and carry them around to different departments. I earn about $110 monthly, and my brother—he is younger than me—makes about $100. My dad is still struggling with back pain and the language, but we are taking care of him. We are men, we are the breadwinners.” Dr. H. Yavuz Ince authors this blog post on trauma in Syrian refugee children. adaa.org/learn-from-us/from...

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When I was around 8 years old my parents bought me a melódica. It’s like a piano keyed horn. I learned to play a song on it and played in front of Sunday School this hymn song called-here are the lyrics:

“Rescue The Parishing”


Rescue the perishing,

Care for the dying,

Snatch them in pity from sin and the grave;

Weep o’er the erring one,

Lift up the fallen,

Tell them of Jesus the mighty to save.

Rescue the perishing,

Care for the dying;

Jesus is merciful,

Jesus will save.


Though they are slighting Him,

Still He is waiting,

Waiting the penitent child to receive;

Plead with them earnestly,

Plead with them gently;

He will forgive if they only believe.


Down in the human heart,

Crushed by the tempter,

Feelings lie buried that grace can restore;

Touched by a loving heart,

Wakened by kindness,

Chords that are broken will vibrate once more.


Rescue the perishing,

Duty demands it;

Strength for thy labor the Lord will provide;

Back to the narrow way,

Patiently win them;

Tell the poor wand’rer a Savior has died.


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