What If It Had Been You.......

Hi,




Let me tell you a story.


There was this woman. A wife, a mother of three small children. She existed within four walls, paralyzed by fear. Her husband ruled with a heavy and abusive hand. At one point, he raises one of those booze-fuelled, hatred-filled hands to one of the children, they had made the mistake of walking in front of the tv while he tried to watch the game.

She knew she had to get out.

In the dead of night, she gathers her children, facing the cold dark dangers of the unknown, filled with hope, and faith that where they are going can only be better than what they were leaving behind.

After blurred days and nights spent hiding from headlights, deflecting, protecting, going without sleep, without food, battered, weary, they reach the shelter.

The light beckoning through the windows promises warmth and safety. They made it.

As they cross the threshold a horrible reality awaits. The tear-stained, terror-filled faces that depended on her for everything growing smaller in the distance. Their destination not considered pertinent information for the person who birthed them by those who wrenched them from her arms.

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Of course, I write this as I can't seem to escape the gut-twisting, grotesqueness that has been taking place at the United States' Southernmost border, as of late.

I make this analogy because the justifications for any of this are irrelevant to me.

I have been the caretaker of children for most of my life. I've had to love countless toddlers through the anxiety they feel when their parent drops them off for the day, to go to work. For the day. Over time, they come to understand that they always come back, and they are fine.

This was in a situation where they were being cared for in my home, they had warm hugs, lots of snacks, songs to sing, games to play, naps in soft, safe places. Loved as though they were my own.

My heart breaks for the torture these poor littles are going through in a place where they are stripped from the arms of their parents after a perilous trek to escape a situation dangerous enough that those who love them most were willing to risk it. The life that led them to the border carries enough trauma for 6 lifetimes.

Then, to be taken away, to an unknown place, not understanding the language, by strangers, put into cages, pens, structures confined by wire, whatever you want to call them.

I think of my grandbabies. None of us decide where we are born, nor do we decide the situation we are born into. What if these were my grandbabies disappearing into the mist. My kids.

What if I had had to, as a young mom of four little girls, what if I had had to leave to save us. What if I had had to run. What if the very place that was to be our refuge, became a whole new nightmare.

What if it had been you...


I've heard the calls to "fix this."

It's too late for that. There is no "fix" for this. These kids are permanently scarred by this, there is nothing that will "fix" that. You might be able to help them deal with the scars, give them tools to deal with the monsters that will now follow them throughout their lives, but please don't kid yourself.

If your goal is to foster future criminals, just go ahead and keep stripping kids from those who love and support them. Take away their safety nets, their kisses goodnight, the only people on the planet that make them feel safe. Do that. That will help create the criminals you so desperately want everyone to believe these people already are.

If that's the "win" you're aiming for, looking for, longing for, congratulations.


There is plenty of room for everyone, we have enough to share, I promise.


Now, before you begin to stroke your keys in hopes of informing me of how naive I am and how not all of these people are legitimate asylum seekers, how bad guys are trying to use kids as tickets tof entry, and so on, let me preemptively answer your messages.

I don't care. Kids are kids are kids. It is up to the adults of the world to care for them, ensure they have the love and support they need to thrive. I don't care if they are white, black, brown, pink, purple, yellow or green. I don't care if they speak 7 languages or none at all. I don't care if they come from halfway around the world or next door. I don't care what brings them to my doorstep. All I know is this. They are human beings who need their loved ones and help, that should be enough.


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That about does it for now.......


May we get to the other side of this hatred and fear with some of our conscience intact.
May we get to the place where we, once again, have each others' backs.

May we work toward a place where trust replaces fear, wherein there is an absence of intentional pain.
May we truly understand that by doing this, we really have nothing to lose, but everything to gain.

May we allow ourselves to love beyond our borders, beyond our race, beyond our beliefs.
May we see this can only expand our joys, and share the burden of our griefs.


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