Rose and Nael Tohme sit on a couch in a quiet room at Westwood Church, their hands touching in the space between.
For the past three Sundays, they have worshipped with the Ospika Boulevard congregation that sponsored their journey to a new country and a new home.
The Tohme family arrived in the wee hours of the morning Jan. 8 on a delayed flight, while an excited Prince George crowd waited to meet its first Syrian family to the city.
Three weeks later, over and over again, the couple thanks Canada and Prince George residents for their kindness.
"It was marvelous," says Rose, 50, of the airport reception and the welcome signs in English and Arabic clutched by so many.
"It touched our heart. You received us with dignity as queens and kings," she says, often turning to Nael, 55, as he murmurs quietly in Arabic, adding what he can to her comments about what their new lives are like in Prince George.
"We feel like we're now already part of this community. We feel home, really," says Rose. "We feel home."
Small gestures have made the five feel welcome. The Save-on-Foods manager who bought their groceries. The hugs in the street.
The church ladies who drink her Turkish coffee and eat the Middle Eastern food she prepares.
"Evening or night we have people helping us, giving us a ride... teaching us what to do, loving us, loving our children."
Their oldest son, 27, is in Dubai with his fiance but the rest of the children are in Prince George: Sara, 24, Samuel, 20, and Barnabas,16.
Listen to the couple sing and Rose speak of leaving Syria, living in limbo in Lebanon and finding a home in Prince George with their three children:
Finding a home
After three years living in Lebanon as refugees, Rose says finding a home for the whole family felt like a godsend.
Twice, they were close to splitting up the family, just so their children would have a chance for a new life.
"Never, never would we accept this, but you can sometimes come to the point," she says, trailing off. "It was so hard for us, you know, to take this decision but there was a chance for Barnabas to go somewhere... but (the sponsor) can't help us as a family.
"It was so hard for us to accept this."
In the end, they didn't have to make the decision. Westwood Church would sponsor the whole family.
"It's God," she said, her laughter rising with her voice. "This is what we feel."
But sometimes a new beginning can feel like starting from the beginning.
Sara has only eight more courses to complete her degree in English Literature, but none of her post-secondary is transferable.
"She is disappointed," Rose says. "She has to start all the process again."
Her daughter's international driver's license isn't valid, but Sara has already passed her first driver's test and can't wait to get on the road.
Her youngest son, Barnabas, was out of school for two years during the transition. Now, thanks to help from Cedars Christian School, which is sponsoring him, she feels he is back on track.
"It was a dream to be in a school like this. Now he has a chance to continue," says Rose, adding Barnabas' dream is to attend a musical college.
Everyone in the family is searching for that new start, she says.
"We like to serve, we like to help, we like to work, we are looking for job, to start life again - a new life. We don't want to be sitting and receiving help. We thank for everything."
That approach has been what the family is already known, said pastor Mark Wessner.
"That attitude of wanting to give, not to take and take and take, but to give - that's infectious. I think we as a church congregation, even as a city can gain from that," says Wessner, adding having the Tohme family has made the transition easier for the second Syrian family the church sponsored - a mother and her two children - who arrived soon after.
"One of the things I hear constantly is once people get to know the family... how warm, and loving (they are). You're blessing us," says Wessner, addressing Rose. "We're together and that's really what it feels like."
Before, the congregation had no connection to Syria.
"It's helped our church have our eyes be bigger beyond Prince George or Canada," he says. "It's community, is really what it is - it's a big world community now kind of collected here in Prince George."
Making memories
Rose's eyes light up when she speaks of the memories she's already made in Canada.
She recalls watching her first local basketball and hockey game. But it was the snowmobiling that has the couple most animated. They had no idea it was possible to drive over a lake.
"We didn't think it was a lake," says Rose as Nael chuckles beside her.
The culture shock has not been too bad, though, mostly because they often crossed paths with foreigners in their previous life.
"We are used to living in a Western culture," she says.
Rose speaks strong English and she should because back home she would teach westerners Arabic. She keeps that legacy alive, teaching the odd word to anyone who is interested in Prince George.
Nael was an engineer assistant and while in Lebanon worked as a foreman. Rose used to work as an English teacher and loves writing and drawing. Nael, too, has taught Arabic and enjoys fishing.
The family has a great love for music and each carried an instrument the day they arrived. Nael plays the lute, Rose the Middle Eastern drums and the kids each have a guitar.
There are still some surprises, though.
People in Canada like to keep space between each other, she notes. Canadians are fond of email, whereas she's used to texting with WhatsApp. She was shocked that Canadians buy groceries in bulk, and often only once a week. Everyone pays with credit card. They're used to cash.
"I'm learning," Rose says.
Before the war
Even though they've left their Syrian city by the sea, the country will always stay with them.
"I think all my life it will be part of me because it's our identity," she says. "We love our country a lot and we feel so sorry for what's happening, but praise God we're hoping peace will come back to Syria."
It used to be an affordable place for poor and rich alike.
"We (had) safety," she says, and the ability to walk outside late at night, call a taxi from the street. "Transportation was so easy, very cheap. Medication, hospital for free. Education for free. We used to have 24 hour electricity, but not any more because of the war.
"We used to have freedom to worship God, even as Christians."
She likens looking back to opening so many doors behind her.
"You go out from that place and it's not easy because you lived all your life there, so all your memories, all the people that you loved, as if you are closing the door behind you," she says. "Sometimes you feel you need to go back and get something from each door.
"I'm always in touch with people, my sisters, my brother, my friends."
Sometimes she searches the Internet, looking at photos of that former city, that former life. The street where she used to walk, where she used to go to school - they are no longer the same.
"It help me to do this, but at the same time it hurts. It's painful," she says. "Sometimes, some days I feel a little bit down, but as I told you praise God that we have Jesus and people behind us, holding us, encouraging us - not alone."
