One month after Christmas and 46 days since Daniel left Argentina. This morning we had breakfast with about 20 migrants and prayed with them before they left for the border. It was a tearful goodbye and I really did not want to see them leave. As each one went out of the door, he would turn around and smile at us. It felt like seeing a platoon of young soldiers off to the battle front. Carlos with his cut hands. Hector with his torn coat. Both victims of last night’s failed attempt. But they each had to keep trying.
From there we went to the wall and had a memorial service for the ones who hadn’t made
it. One of the names I read was Roberto age 27 months old and I broke down crying again. Do people actually think that his mother or father intended him to die in the desert? Do people actually think that their crossing is anything less than the last desperate effort for survival?These are people, men women, boys and girls just like us just like Ari. How can we look at them and feel anything other than love and compassion? If I get nothing else from this trip, I will take home these two things:
Flesh and blood have no borders – we are all part of the human family.
Those who want borders for safety have it all wrong – it is in the moment we are vulnerable that we dissolve the fear, break down the barrier and become safe with each other.
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1 comment:
that was definitely one of my most profound lessons in Ecuador as well-- people are people, and the love they have for one another, the love we can have for each other transcends culture adn language and any other barrier we can imagine or construct. People are literally dying to get into our country, but what makes them less worthy to live here than we? Certainly not the beauty of their spirits.
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