Dear refugee woman,
I see you there, struggling with your children, wondering what might be next.
You weren’t Muslim enough for the extremists in your country. Or you refused to become Muslim and instead were threatened with your very life and the lives of your children.
You’ve probably already lost your husband. And if you haven’t you are afraid for his life, too.
You’ve been bombed by those fighting the extremists in your country. Your home and your homeland is in shambles.
I see the worry in your face. Every line earned.
You’ve seen and experienced violence the likes of which my privileged, white, self has never even had nightmares to rival.
You had no choice but flee. Flee the problem. Flee the arrogant supposed solution to it.
Run for your life. Run for your children’s lives.
Run to where? Nowhere. No job, no home, no money. Run away from terror into horror.
I’m sorry for your luck, really. Through no fault of your own you look like them. Whoever them is. You have the wrong color skin. You wear the wrong garments. We can’t help you.
To hell with you. We’re closing the door in your face.
I see you, but you are on your own. I will turn my head pretend that my country and others have no blood on their hands. I will pretend that we had no hand in empowering those who seek to do you harm. Your plight is not my problem.
I see you there, with your trouble on every side. You might just bring your trouble to me. I will close my eyes and hope it turns out alright for you.
I’m praying for you, nonetheless. I hope you find Jesus before it’s too late.
The United States of America
I am sad to see our country closing it’s borders to those in need. I have no idea how to help in any tangible and meaningful way.
If you want to help, even in a small way, please consider giving to one of these organizations: