Immigration Status

I have to admit that my mind’s felt dull lately.  School is definitely a priority in my life right now, and other things, though still important, are squirming under the squeeze of less time and less attention.  Of all the great changes and good that’s come from this semester, I have to say that I’ll need to re-think and re-tool how I got about living life.  It has been a struggle to really get a grip on what life looks like, what each different part requires of me, and how I’m able to respond well.  With all that said, I feel like my mind had been really dull, and kind of sitting dormant.  Halloween’s one day a year, but it’s felt like it’s owned Fall and into Winter.  
 
Immigration has been a topic that’s seem to spur me to think more, and it’s actually really touched me more lately.  I can go on and on about my own cultural identity, and the struggles I have with my different conflicting and interweaving identities.  
 
Ethnic Chinese.  
American Life and Culture.  
Artist.  
Student.
Christian.  
Servant.  
[ and the list continues on ] 
 
For Thanksgiving, our church had an interesting celebration practice.  We spent time sharing our immigration stories with each other.  It was pretty amazing.  At my table, people were from all over the place, and had such interesting stories of how they’ve come to sit in front of that same table in front of each other.  
 
A White American man from whose Grandmother immigrated from Ireland during the potato famine by way of adoption.
A French – West African White American man whose parents came from France, but lived in NY and Cameroon by way of working with the church.
His mother, a Frenchwoman, visiting her American son.
A Vietnamese American woman who fled the war to come to America for “a future.”
An African American man whose parents came from Sierra Leone for education.
His wife, a Nigerian woman who came to the USA for education.
An adopted White woman who grew up in Central California.
A Chinese American man whose parents came from China for education.
 
I think we could’ve gone for hours hours talking about who we are, and where we’ve come from.
 
Today I spent time with a friend in our neighborhood.  He’s a great young man, 20 years old, creative, intelligent, funny, and talented.  I’ve gotten to know him through our church’s tutoring program, and now, he’s graduated, and kind of going to school, and kind of working.  Kind of.  Kind of means he is, but he isn’t.  You see, he’s undocumented.  His parents came here for a better life, and he was brought here as a child.  So, he doesn’t have citizenship, and in short, he can’t get a decent job, he can’t seem to see the point of getting a degree because he won’t have the paperwork to get a job, he can’t get a CA ID or a driver’s license, etc.  It’s hard.  I’m humbled by his circumstances, and it’s been a good shock to my system.  All that I take for granted is all that he thinks about everyday.
 
I prayed today for my friend.  I thought about how hard it is to live without hope, and how hard it is for me to be content with life.  I’ve thought about all the things I put my energy into, and I wonder if I’m really living out a life that really has substance and meaning.  I wonder if I get the point of it all.  I don’t think I’d have the guts to go to an under-the-table minimum-wage job each day I’m scheduled.  I don’t think I’d have the will to keep going to school, knowing that my lack of a Social Security number means that I can’t have a choice for work.
 
This might be a crazy statement, but if the Gospel is the good news, and the Gospel is about redemption, I wonder if my friend’s story of redemption will be about citizenship.  I wonder if my story will be about redemption in my family between my mom and dad. 
 
This is the season of waiting.  Advent is about waiting for our deepest desires, our long – lost hopes to come true.  The hopes that we dare to think about and tell other people, because they’re so hard to even fathom.