Immigrate is to come into another country to live permanently.
2003- I came to your country without your language, but Steven came and patiently taught me.
I came without car, house, bed for my disoriented head, but Tim and Lorna graciously received me in as one of their own.
I was one of three people with my skin color in the town. The other two left and I was not afraid. I was safe from hate, safe from fear, only an object of curiosity.
There was a young lady from Sudan who wore a black covering over her head and face. She befriended me when I was alone.
2013- I came again to your country a second time with my everything worldly packed in some suitcases and 4 hearts full of a dream. A husband, a wife, 2 children, and "no home little sister, we are free in the wild now". We went on faith and they took us in. They gave us a wild and free chance to live our dreams. It was more than we could've asked or imagined.
2018- The inverse
They came to my country not speaking the language, so I offered to tutor. No safe neighborhoods to sleep for them, no car or navigational device for deciphering this insane Leviathan of "American Health Care". Their dad found a job at a chicken plant, a job nobody wants, but it's a job. He has five children to feed and one on the way.
They came to my country with a few suitcases and hearts full of dreams we can't yet know about because we don't speak the same language yet.
But
something made them want to leave home for all this.
2019-
Their baby was due, but we weren't confident of when. We went to the doctor's
office. I was facing the gate keeper who wanted a $100 entry fee.
No insurance. No means to acquire insurance either. There was the
symbolic glass ceiling, but it was really a window. Would we get
discouraged and overwhelmed and quit? I recall all the hospitality and
endurance of African mothers I know so I press on. My God breaks walls
down into windows all the time.
The
first year OB resident is the very fist American physician my friend ever
sees. She is kind and courteous and treats her like every other patient
she sees. Thank you!
My
friend was referred to a high risk clinic, no charge. 4 of her 5 children
were born at home in Sudan, with low birth weight. Number 6 does not need
to be like that. The mom is not worried though. She says "They
were all fine before. This one will be fine too".
The
OB in America tests, sticks, scans, screens, and labs her into culture
shock. American health care feigns at control. But every week I
took her to get that ultrasound I was amazed at the black and white image of a
tiny human packed full of hope and heart beats and amazing awe that was like a
first face-time encounter with a child. They eventually determine the
child's due date will be Easter and guess when she came- Easter night!
Healthy and ambitious in her outlook on leaving the tiny safe womb to come out
into all this wild world.
A
few weeks later, I am at the pediatrics clinic with the siblings from
Sudan. They have been vaccinated now against polio, measles, tetanus and
other things people back home die from. The 5 year old girl asks to
listen to the stethoscope. The nurse lets her hear the child's own
heartbeat, and then puts the chest piece on her own chest. The little
girl catches the heartbeat in her ears and her face lights up with wonder and
awe and exclaims "Is like me!"
