A Poor Wayfaring Man

It’s been a while since I’ve sat down to write something that wasn’t an assignment. I’ll be honest, these last few months have been a challenge and the mental energy to do anything beyond what is completely necessary in the moment has eluded me.

Part of this lack of clarity comes from, in my opinion, some of the most horrific events our country has seen in recent times. I am speaking of the crisis at the southern border of our country. The reasons people are seeking to enter the United States are complicated and are ultimately a different post for a different day.

What is not complicated, or should not be complicated, is how we treat others.

Separating loving families should not be acceptable.

Keeping children in cages should not be something that even enters our minds.

Denying medical treatment because someone is not a citizen should not be a consideration for the wealthiest nation on Earth.

But here we are. Refusing to learn from the worst parts of our past. Here we are, perpetuating the cycle of violence that allowed Natives families and cultures to be destroyed, for slavery to flourish, and for the deep roots of racism to impact our every day lives.

One of the most difficult out things for me to come to terms with has been the harsh opinions from my friends and family who are members of the LDS Church. In a religion that inspired hymns with words like:

A poor, wayfaring man of grief
Hath often cross me on my way
Who sued so humbly for relief
That I could never answer nay.

Is it somehow acceptable to say that how we are treating those suing for relief “really isn’t so bad”?

Each night as I cuddle my babies, my heart goes to those little ones without a mama or daddy to cuddle them. Each day as I venture out into the world, I strive to fight to make the world better for them all.

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