When Darko arrives, there are hugs and handshakes. Everyone in this tiny living room in Jackson, Mississippi, is smiling and the affection seems genuine. Never mind that Darko is Serbian and these people are Bosnian. Never mind that their relatives were on opposite sides of the civil war in Bosnia.

"Back home," Darko says, "ffft," making a slashing motion across his throat. "We would have killed each other. But here, we are friends. We have love."

Darko Velichkovski has embraced his enemies, refugees from the conflict that destroyed the former Yugoslavia.

"When they arrived, Catholic Charities called me to interpret. There aren't many Slavic people in Jackson." And none as well-known as the president and CEO of the Mississippi Symphony Orchestra. The heavy-browed musician has the larger-than-life presence of someone accustomed to the stage. And though he seems sure of himself, Darko is modest about his work with the refugees.

"My first thought was how I could help them, how I could share the love of Christ. Much later, I thought about their being Bosnian," Darko says. "A lot has changed in 15 years."

His English is excellent. His accent is tempered by a slight drawl and he drops in an occasional "y'all" as he tells his story?how an atheist Serbian teenager found faith and fame in the southern United States.

Darko grew up in a world without God. His parents, like most of his countrymen, were atheists. They taught him to celebrate accomplishment.

At 15 Darko was a prodigy, the youngest student at the Belgrade conservatory. One day he met an American tourist at a coffee shop. Eager to try his English, Darko offered to show the man around town. The tourist took home a recording of Darko playing the clarinet.

Two years later, the man, Kelley Travis of Jackson, contacted Darko. He had arranged a full scholarship at a university in Louisiana, but Darko, at 18, was about to begin compulsory military service. The man promised to call again the next year.

He did.

Darko's parents sold an old upright piano to purchase a one way ticket to the United States, "the land of opportunity, McDonalds, and Hollywood." Arriving, Darko learned Travis had arranged an audition for him at the prestigious Juilliard music school in New York. In the two months he waited for the audition, Darko stayed with Kelley and his wife Jean.

"Miz Jean had Bibles in every room in the house?even the bathroom. I had studied about the Bible in anthropology classes, but to read the Bible, that was laughable, beyond the realm of possibility."

Jean invited Darko to attend church with them at First Baptist. "I fully expected to find a bunch of delusional, irrational people there. But I found such a feeling of warmth, of love, of belonging in a place where I had never been."

One evening after rehearsing, Darko happened to look through his papers, reading something he had overlooked before. He had been given 30 days to report to the school in Louisiana. Otherwise, he said, he had to leave the country. It was day 29.

The three rushed to New Orleans that night so Darko could plead his case at the immigration office the next morning. They checked into a hotel that was hosting the New Orleans Jazz Club's annual jam session.

"I had my clarinet with me and these Dixieland musicians invited me to join them. We played all night. It was great."

In the morning, the atmosphere at the immigration office was quite different. "The hearing officer told me Mexico was not far away, and unless I made it there first, I would be arrested, jailed, and deported. My world came crashing down.

"I remember thinking that there was no God, I was the master of my fate, and I had ruined my life. No scholarship. No Juilliard. Nothing."

But as he left the hearing, Darko learned otherwise. In the hallway a man said, "Hey, you're my clarinet player. Remember? I played the banjo last night."