Today is World Refugee Day. I want to share this painting I just finished of a friend I met in a refugee camp last year. She comes from a world where it is dangerous for a woman to be educated or outspoken. So I wasn't surprised by her apparent shyness. But as I watched her and learned about what she has been through, I understood the quiet depths in her eyes and was touched by her gracious kindness. I think there must be a certain pain that only mothers who have lost a child know. Is that pain worse when your child's mutilated body is delivered back to you by the kidnappers? Maybe someday I will be able to ask her, in a common language, and find out what keeps her going. In the meantime, I treasure her example and friendship.