Not As Simple As It Seems

In 2018, I left my marketing job in Washington, DC and packed my bags for Armenia. I was searching for a break from the 9 to 5 DC grind, an overseas adventure and the opportunity to connect with my Armenian heritage. Seven years later, I’m still there.

God orchestrated my journey to this little country in the Caucasus to help me uncover the true meaning of calling. In the words of Frederick Buechner, calling is found at the crossroads of the “world’s deep hunger” and “our deep gladness.” That has certainly been true in my life. A new zest for waking up for work in the mornings blossomed within me. This happened once I had viscerally felt the immense needs in Armenia, walking alongside those facing them. I found incredible fulfillment in doing my part to meet those needs, and also spent many hours questioning why I was given the privileges I was given. I’ve determined that prayerfully wielding those privileges to make a difference is the key – and that looks different for everyone. For one person, it could mean sharing your home for food, fellowship and a warm bed, for others it could mean living among those in need, and for others, it is giving financial resources.

I’ve decided to do my part through the nonprofit development space, working alongside Fund for Armenian Relief (FAR) to empower local Armenians through programs in child protection, education, healthcare and economic development.

Armenia is a country of many firsts. In 301 AD, it was the first nation to adopt Christianity (prior even to Rome). It is the location of the first monastery. It’s the cradle of winemaking – a six-thousand-year-old practice. It was also the first nation to mandate chess as a required subject in school.

Gyumri, Armenia’s second largest city and my adopted home, is known for its artisans and architects. It’s a hub for humor and hospitality. But unfortunately, the world remembers it for a tragedy. That’s how our organization – FAR – got its start.

30 years prior to my arrival, on a bitterly cold December day, a massive earthquake struck Armenia. The epicenter was quite close to Gyumri. At the time, roughly 250,000 people were living in the greater area. The earthquake – quite literally – decimated the population. Many more people lost their homes. My dear friend Raya, who has become like a mother to me, lost both her home and her daughter. I know people still living in temporary housing so many years later.

Having lived in Armenia now for several years, I’ve seen with my own eyes some of the other devastating issues that can plague our fellow human beings. Obviously, many people end up homeless due to natural disasters, like the Gyumri earthquake. I’ve also watched two wars during my time in Armenia. In 2020, when Azerbaijan attacked a piece of land historically populated by Armenians, thousands of people were forcibly displaced from their homes. In 2023, Azerbaijan aggressively seized the remainder of the region, displacing another 120,000 people from their homes. Now, in 2025, many of these people are still without a roof to call their own.

Disability is also a huge risk factor for homelessness. For several years now, I have had the privilege of working with people with special needs in Gyumri. One of my acquaintances in the community is a man named Nver, which means “Gift” in Armenian. When he was born with cerebral palsy, his birth mother left him in a dump. It’s an ugly sort of irony.

A kind woman found him and adopted him, but can you also imagine the psychological load of knowing that you were discarded at birth? My own sister – who does not have a visible disability – experienced homelessness while wrestling with deep mental health issues in her early 20s.

The problem with homelessness, as with any grave issue facing a human, is that there is a whole backstory hidden away and wrapped up with the person it affects. Homelessness is always the outward facing expression of deeper issues at play. As much as we can imagine ourselves in the shoes of those we walk beside, the easier it will be to give them grace.