We Are All Immigrants


Many years ago my ancestors came to this country. I don’t pretend to know why. I do know they risked much to get here. The voyage here was perilous. Malnutrition, drowning, and death were all possibilities. Whatever they endured in their own country, had to have been worth the risk to escape. Were they afraid of imprisonment, torture, losing their children, death? The look on their weary faces when they saw that beautiful copper statue greeting them on our shore; the profound words at her feet, words they could not understand but knew were meant for them. “Give Me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free…” the look on their faces, the faces of people desperate, a desperation born out of a fear we can never really understand today. Those who came before us understood, and shared their blessings. The blessings God intended when he created this big beautiful planet for us to share. I love the melting pot of diversity created by our ancestors all those years ago. I love that I have a choice of languages to speak when I make a call. The English language, a language, technically not native to this country is one of the most difficult to learn. And I have great respect for those who attempt to learn it. I am not posting this with any political agenda. My intentions are purely spiritual. Christ said, ” love thy neighbor”. His use of the word neighbor was far reaching in its meaning. This I know because he also taught us to treat one another the way we want to be treated. This has been weighing heavily on mind recently. Today a strange thing happened, laid up with a sudden fatigue, I turned the tv on and found myself watching a movie called The Visitor. It moved me to tears, it moved me to write, and now here we are…

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