Imagine

     I want to take you on a little journey. Imagine. You're nineteen years old. You grew up in San Diego, California. Your parents immigrated to the United States from Mexico when you were just a baby. After moving to America, they tried to make life good for you and your three younger siblings. You grew up American. Your parents occasionally spoke Spanish, but you had no real interest in learning the language. You didn't want the kids at school to think that you were Mexican, because you are American.
     Now you are nineteen years old. A high school graduate, you are now attending college with the intention of becoming a doctor. Then one day you come home and find the police. They inform you that your parents illegally immigrated into the States and that you are not welcome to live in America anymore. You are being deported to Mexico, the place where they say you belong.
     But the truth is, you don't belong in Mexico. You might not be a true American, but you certainly are not Mexican. You've never even been there, apart from your first six months of life. You know nothing about Mexican culture or even much of the language. The Mexicans don't accept you as one of them, because to them, you are American. You can't find a job because you don't speak the language. You have nothing now. Your dreams of becoming a doctor have been smashed.
     What do you do? How will you survive? All you've ever known is now behind you. The fact is, you don't know what to do. So let me help. I'll tell you what you do.
     You find a dump on the outskirts of Tijuana, the Mexican city just over the border from San Diego. There, you spend your days rummaging through the trash, collecting plastic and anything else that can be recycled or sold. You live in a small village just outside of the dump, where all your fellow workers also live in little shacks built from metal scraps and other garbage. The rancid smell of trash never leaves the air. You long for fresh air. Your hands become black and encrusted with dirt. This is your existence now. You make the equivalent of about seventy USD on a good week. This is your life, day after day living and working in the dump. The days turn into months, and the months into years. Suddenly you are forty-nine years old, still living in the same dump, just hours from the American border and city that was once your home.
     Sound crazy? It is. But it is also the story of many people. It's imagined for you, but for some, it's real life.
     The thing is, they don't want your pity. I was there, in that dump. I saw those people. They aren't living what we would consider to be a good life, but they are still able to praise God. In the dump village, the first thing I noticed was the church. They don't have much out there, but they have a church. They praise God in spite of their circumstances. Can you?
     Blessings,
          Katie