by Jen (New England Outreach Team)

Two families crowded into a small room, trying to see the “foreigners” who had come to their Bhutanese refugee community in Massachusetts.  (These refugees had been “evicted” from Bhutan because they were not ethnically  Bhutanese. They had been living in refugee camps for years and are being resettled in the United States and other nations by the United Nations.)

A middle-aged woman in a brightly colored skirt sat next to me. I tried to speak every word of Nepali that I could remember.  Even though she was beautiful, her face looked sad and worn.

One of the men in the room explained to me how she, Mishori, had been depressed for ten years and experienced pain in her head and stomach.  As soon as I heard the word “depression” I knew that I should share my story with her and pray for her.

I told her that when I was younger, my father lost his business. He struggled with depression to the point of not being able to get off the couch for one year.  Then when my parents divorced when I was a teenager, I fell into a deep depression and even wanted to take my life.