We bought two new paper burch trees yesterday as part of our promise to plant a tree a year around our farmhouse. Maria did most of the digging and planting I did the watering, moral support, and photography. The two trees look wonderful, we are planting a ring of trees around the farmhouse for future generations.
Well, this is a tad embarrassing, but the Naked Bedlam Farm Photography set out again in the morning dawn to try to capture the mist that shrouded the pasture this morning as a warm front began to creep in.
I’m not going to make a habit of this, I wrote about a naked excursion yesterday, but I looked out the bedroom window and saw the sun rising through the mist, one of my favorite shots and ran out to get it with no clothes on – the mist blocked the view from the road, mostly – and i was too late.
As I turned to photograph the Apple Tree, one of my favorite mist shots, I felt a cold nose on my butt, and I jumped about two feet in the air.
It was Zelda, one of our oldest and most independent sheep.
She never sniffed me before, mostly, she liked to butt me and knock me down if she could.
She seemed suddenly to be in a somewhat amorous mood with me, she was fascinated by this new thing, she got up close and kept pressing her nose against my body. I patted her on the head and kissed her on the nose, and tried to break the word to her that she wasn’t really my type, I had a girl, what would Maria say?
It seemed as if she wanted to get to know this new me better, so I waved goodbye, admitted defeat, and retreated into the house. I like to be close to my animals, but not that close.
I’ve been working with newly arrived refugees to the United States now for more than a year, and I want to thank many of you for your support of this work. We have done and are doing a lot of good.
My interest initially was selfish and personal. My grandparents were refugees, I grew up with refugees, it is has been painful for me to see them become so controversial and demonized. But rather than lament the way things are, I want to help make them better insofar as that is possible.
As I have come to know the refugees, my feelings have changed. I have come to love and admire many of these people and I want to help them establish themselves in safety and security in our country, they are my brothers and sisters and, I hope, yours.
They are deserving of better than we are now giving them as a nation.
My heart goes out to these brave and loving people, they are willing to sacrifice every comfort to give their children better lives.
And to these children, who are swimming upstream in a suddenly hostile world where people now tell them almost daily that they don’t belong here.
Helping the refugees is a much more difficult thing than I imagined, and also a much more rewarding thing. People who work with them affirm what I have already seen – it is hard, and their lives have rarely been harder in America..
Most of the refugees now in the United States were chosen by the United Nations and have been living – some for a decade or more – in refugee camps set up by the United Stations following genocide, civil war, brutal persecutions and natural disasters.
Some of the children we help grew up in refugee camps, and knew no other home before coming here. The refugees I am working with come from Asia, Africa, and the Middle East.
They were chosen to come to America via a lottery system that takes into account need, family, urgency and history. In past years as many as 100,000 refugees have been admitted to the United States each year, even though an estimated 65 million refugees are now homeless and in desperate need of resettlement.
In 2018, the number of refugees being admitted to the United States has been reduced to a trickle, a fraction of a percent. Of the six million Syrian refugees living in camps, the United States is expected to admit between 13 and 30 people this year.
The government says they will admit fewer refugees this year than at any time in the country’s history.
It has become clear that this administration does not believe either in admitting refugees, or keeping anything like the current immigration system. This has caused great suffering for the refugees, beyond what they have already experienced.
The refugees that are here are struggling with every aspect of their lives.
It is a creative challenge to figure out how to help them in meaningful ways.
The support of refugees has historically always been the primary function of our government, and today it is the primary function of some truly Christian communities and non-profit organizations and of people like me, who believe the refugee experience is the heart and soul of America.
And people like you, who support people like me.
But it is challenging, difficult, and painful, a part of one of the most significant learning experiences of my adult life, and a profound change in what I perceive to be core American values of generosity, empathy and justice.
The federal subsidies that gave the refugees support and time to find housing, learn English, get work, learn to drive, get a car have all been canceled or slashed. More and more, these vulnerable families are on their own.
The burden of supporting refugees regularly has fallen on state and local governments, most of whom are sorely pressed for funds. Mothers that brought their families here with the expectation of seeing their husbands again are beginning to grasp that they may never see them again and the refugee children tell me they will never see their uncles and aunts or grandparents again.
These are all people who often lived with them and were a seminal part of their lives.
Local and state governments are also slashing their subsidies to refugee families for food, rent and medical care. They have much less money than the federal government once did, and the recent tax cuts have left little money to support new Americans.
The refugees come here with absolutely nothing – that is what it means to be a refugee.
Almost all were leading middle class lives in their former countries, they had work, food, shelter and regular incomes. They have none of those things when they come here.
I can tell you that almost to a one, they are good and honest and decent and hard-working people, they have all suffered, along with their children, some of the most horrific experiences life has to offer, friends and families butchered, raped, robbed, pursued, homes and families shattered or destroyed.
Everyyime I ask one of the refugees to tell me their story, I have to hold my breath and pray for the strength to hear it calmly and absorb it.
This work is fluid and confusing at times.
We got uniforms for the girl’s basketball team, but them most of the players decided they didn’t want to be on the team and play basketball after all. They are still trying to rebuild, those uniforms have not yet been worn. Sports is a complex cultural issue, especially for young women, in these communities.
I believe there will be a girl’s basketball team, one way or another. I don’t know when, and it is not up to me.
What makes this work difficult is that the things i can do about it are so limited.
Because most don’ t yet speak English and can’t afford cars, their employment opportunities are severely limited. In previous years, they were assisted while they learned the language and helped to find meaningful work so they could support their families.
Now, they are forced into minimum wage jobs shelving grocery store foods, or cleaning floors in hospitals and hotels.
They have little or no chance to advance, they cannot take the time to learn the skills necessary to functioning well in America, and the cost of everything they need is rising rapidly, even as their wages stagnate. Almost to a family, they owe money, and are falling behind in their bills.
Through no fault of their own, they need everything – food, clothing, rent, car insurance money, utilities and cable, microwave ovens, towels, plates and glasses, diapers and tampons.
Many of these families are single family homes, mostly mothers working two or three jobs to try to keep up with their bills. The fathers, grandfathers, uncles, cousins and brothers are so often dead or left behind in refugee camps, which they have little or no chance of leaving.
Helping them properly is both difficult and expensive. Here at the Army Of Good we don’t have the funds to help them in the permanent and long-lasting ways that they need. And I don’t want to be raising that kind of money. I don’t wish to get bigger.
So we try to help them in small and bounded ways. Small acts of great kindness. We are doing a lot of good.
And I will be honest, the true hope lies with the children, with the soccer team.
We help people with the deposits they need to find clean and safe housing; we help people get groceries for their families and clothes for their children.
We negotiate on their behalf with utilities and social service agencies to get them more time to pay their bills, more rent and food support.
We help their sons of daughters receive tutoring in English, equipment for soccer and other sports teams, we sometimes buy small television’s and pay for cable fees. On several occasions, we take families to Wal-Mart to get clothes and food.
And of course, there is the soccer team, a focal point of this work, we really can change these lives and affect the outcome. We supply clothing and community, trips and activities that keep them active, in school, learning and spending their time in productive, healing and important ways.
Every week, we offer them to chance for outings and learning experiences – and soccer games. When I first saw the soccer team, they were mostly wearing flip-flops. Now they all have sneakers and sharp uniforms.
My friendship with Ali has turned out to be a great boon in this work. Ali has connected me to this community, helped me to earn their trust, guided me to the people we can most help, and our work together with the soccer team has been nothing short of miraculous.
For these boys (and some girls) the success stories mount: scholarships, honor roll awards, pride, openness, social engagement, confidence, community and a sense of accomplishment and belonging. If you work with the refugee families, you see right away that many other children are not so lucky, they fall victim to gangs, social isolation, drugs, the streets.
We go to youth retreats, confidence building treks to the forest, movies, aquariums museums, on boat rides, pizza outings and trips to video game parlors. The trips are joyous and meaningful, and grounding for these children who have suffered enough.
Next month, they are going to the New England Aquarium to meet the giant octopuses they have read so much about.
Because many of these soccer kids do not have strong family structures at home, the soccer team provides it to them. I can tell you that is working, every penny spent on those children is changing a life. I’ve seen that unfold over the past year.
The children are, of course, easier and cheaper to help – and they are the future, as has always been the case with refugee children – so they will continue to be the focal point of my work with Ali.
The adults are in desperate need of help, but this work requires discipline and focus. I don’t wish to do any more fund-raising than I am doing, I don’t want to get bigger than we are.
So for all of the pain and frustration of it, I believe it is working, I am determined to continue this work, I expect life for the refugees, already hard, will be getting harder.
I will do what I can and share it with you openly. I am grateful for your support, without out you, none of this would be happening. We seek to go good and commit small acts of great kindness.
So I’m not writing this to raise or ask for money, just to share this experience with you and bring you up to date with my feelings.
I am committed to these small acts of great kindness, we can’t offer miracles, but we do offer comfort, support and help in a disintegrating and frightening and difficult environment.
I thank you for your support and I want you to know that Ali and I are absolutely committed to this work.
