The refugee crisis continues to rage in Europe. Germany offers payment to rejected asylum seekers to return to their native countries. Upon their return, they will receive the equivalent of a few thousand dollars. Some of France's smaller cities in the warmer south are in despair because of the thousands of people who are arriving daily. The mayors of these cities have banned together and cried out for help and relief.
The United States too is embroiled in our own conflict concerning refugees. We have sanctuary cities, court orders, fears, and a recent Supreme Court decision to back the most recent travel ban. We are a world in crisis without a perfect solution to a very human problem.
A friend recently flew into LAX international airport at the height of the travel ban conflict when people gathered at major airports to protest, offer help and legal counsel to the people stuck in immigration limbo. He wanted to yell out, "How many of you are actually helping refugees? What are you doing to alleviate suffering besides protesting?"
Thousands of people have not embroiled themselves in the conflict. We have not marched in protest, engaged in hostile conversation, ranted on Facebook or posted anti-government commentary on twitter. Though some of these actions can be important, instead, we've found a need and we've gone to work. With our limited resources, we've found a way to help in a very personal way: we volunteer to teach English, help with homework, volunteer to raise money, donate household goods; we adopt refugee families.
As I've written many times before, refugees need acceptance and assistance in our cities and towns. Not from the government or an overburdened charity organization. This is a job that cannot be relegated to someone else. It has to be us: you but more especially me. Regardless of how you feel about immigration, the people who've made it to America have already suffered immense loss, hardship, and trauma. They are here, they can't go home. Can we make it just a little bit easier for them?
It will not only change their lives, but it will change your life.
Last night, we took our refugee family out for tacos. They'd never had tacos. Their diet consists mainly of meat, vegetables, and beans, so the odds of success were in our favor. Previously, they did not like ice cream.
When we arrived at their home, they weren't expecting us. Making appointments is an easy mix-up, and they thought it was next Monday, but just a few minutes passed before they were dressed and ready to go. The temperature was in the 30s and so I asked our daughter and her mother, "Where are your coats?" It was a question that couldn't be answered; they didn't have coats and didn't have the language skills to connect the question with an answer. They shrugged their shoulders.
That afternoon, I'd bought a new coat for myself. I'd been wearing a hand me down from two daughters, and the long black coat was warm but it had a broken zipper. It was looking its age. I didn't need to wear a coat with a broken zipper; it was just warm, cozy, and easier than shopping for a new coat. But there I was in my new warm coat with women I love, who were protected only by light jackets.
I wouldn't have been able to sleep that night if I'd ignored such an obvious need.
They loved the tacos.
I whispered to Tony, "We need to go coat shopping." He nodded his head in affirmation. We needed to figure out where. We bantered back and forth as to the best place. My idea won out as Tony demurred to my shopping experience. Now we had to ask our family.
"Can we go coat shopping?"
Our family is gracious and appreciative and they do not ask for even the simplest of needs, but thinking about leaving the warm taco shop, their work tomorrow at 6:00 a.m., there was not a shred of protest. "Sure," our daughter responded.
Thank you JCPenney for a huge selection of beautiful women's coats, and an unexpected blessing; 60% off every single coat in the entire store.
The first coat both mother and daughter tried on never came off. They slid on like gloves, the warmth was imminently realized and appreciated. Both women looked beautiful and more important they looked warm. The cashier scanned the coats while reaching over the counter. They didn't have scissors to cut off the tags, so we walked out of JCPenney with tags on, with warmth, with gratitude, with smiles.
What a privilege it was for me, to sleep well on a cold winter's night.
The United States too is embroiled in our own conflict concerning refugees. We have sanctuary cities, court orders, fears, and a recent Supreme Court decision to back the most recent travel ban. We are a world in crisis without a perfect solution to a very human problem.
A friend recently flew into LAX international airport at the height of the travel ban conflict when people gathered at major airports to protest, offer help and legal counsel to the people stuck in immigration limbo. He wanted to yell out, "How many of you are actually helping refugees? What are you doing to alleviate suffering besides protesting?"
Thousands of people have not embroiled themselves in the conflict. We have not marched in protest, engaged in hostile conversation, ranted on Facebook or posted anti-government commentary on twitter. Though some of these actions can be important, instead, we've found a need and we've gone to work. With our limited resources, we've found a way to help in a very personal way: we volunteer to teach English, help with homework, volunteer to raise money, donate household goods; we adopt refugee families.
As I've written many times before, refugees need acceptance and assistance in our cities and towns. Not from the government or an overburdened charity organization. This is a job that cannot be relegated to someone else. It has to be us: you but more especially me. Regardless of how you feel about immigration, the people who've made it to America have already suffered immense loss, hardship, and trauma. They are here, they can't go home. Can we make it just a little bit easier for them?
It will not only change their lives, but it will change your life.
Last night, we took our refugee family out for tacos. They'd never had tacos. Their diet consists mainly of meat, vegetables, and beans, so the odds of success were in our favor. Previously, they did not like ice cream.
When we arrived at their home, they weren't expecting us. Making appointments is an easy mix-up, and they thought it was next Monday, but just a few minutes passed before they were dressed and ready to go. The temperature was in the 30s and so I asked our daughter and her mother, "Where are your coats?" It was a question that couldn't be answered; they didn't have coats and didn't have the language skills to connect the question with an answer. They shrugged their shoulders.
That afternoon, I'd bought a new coat for myself. I'd been wearing a hand me down from two daughters, and the long black coat was warm but it had a broken zipper. It was looking its age. I didn't need to wear a coat with a broken zipper; it was just warm, cozy, and easier than shopping for a new coat. But there I was in my new warm coat with women I love, who were protected only by light jackets.
I wouldn't have been able to sleep that night if I'd ignored such an obvious need.
They loved the tacos.
I whispered to Tony, "We need to go coat shopping." He nodded his head in affirmation. We needed to figure out where. We bantered back and forth as to the best place. My idea won out as Tony demurred to my shopping experience. Now we had to ask our family.
"Can we go coat shopping?"
Our family is gracious and appreciative and they do not ask for even the simplest of needs, but thinking about leaving the warm taco shop, their work tomorrow at 6:00 a.m., there was not a shred of protest. "Sure," our daughter responded.
Thank you JCPenney for a huge selection of beautiful women's coats, and an unexpected blessing; 60% off every single coat in the entire store.
The first coat both mother and daughter tried on never came off. They slid on like gloves, the warmth was imminently realized and appreciated. Both women looked beautiful and more important they looked warm. The cashier scanned the coats while reaching over the counter. They didn't have scissors to cut off the tags, so we walked out of JCPenney with tags on, with warmth, with gratitude, with smiles.
What a privilege it was for me, to sleep well on a cold winter's night.
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