Crossing the line and the border

I'm not one for joining the commotion of obvious public and national disputes, one that is a little more personal than most I feel I need to pipe in my 2 cents on though.
Immigration... yep, I went there.
Like a large amount of our successful population I work hard for the things I have, I give when I feel the need and urge to give, I am patient to wait my turn in line, I follow the laws and I pay my taxes. Immigration is its own planet of issues, it is a diagram with one big circle and in the middle it reads immigrants than little lines draw from the middle circle to other bubbles around it that display other topics/issues and those have lines with bubbles breaking down those issues. I wont go near the Presidents approach to handling this, as that will only distract me to in the wrong direction. I do however want to address how immigration affects me on the smaller scale, the personal level.
If you look in the top right hand of this blog there is a picture of my 2 favorite things... Kace is almost 9 and Cris is 7. My children are American, they were born and raised in America, as was I. Their father however was not. He came to the states at the age of 17 from a small city approx. 3 hours away from Guadalajara... his documents all the way down to the birth certificate were a fake. I met him when we were both 18. We married at the age of 20. We went thru the process of legalizing his status in the United States. He has applied for his citizenship this year.
Last night the boys were talking to me about their side of the family that are at risk, who did not complete the appropriate steps to be legal. I don't want to go as far and say they are innocent or that they don't deserve to be here, as that side of the family has been here for 10+ years and their fear and procrastination have them hiding in their homes now. It is obviously more difficult to get legalized, regardless of how long you have lived here, how long you have worked and up held status to be a good member of society. They have not committed crimes to their fellow neighbors, they have learned English and work just as hard to put food on their table and a roof over their heads. I know them, I know that they embrace their lives and the blessing of being able to live a little bit better and offer better for their children in the USA. The past few months they have had to sit their children down, their children who are also American citizens by right of being born here, and explaining to their children that one day their jobs or the store they are shopping at could be raided and they may not see them for a long time if ever again. It is a harsh reality for them, it is scary and devastating. They like Martin Luther King have dreams of being just like us, they messed up by not getting the proper paperwork, they know this... But it is hard to say that the ones who speak English, who work hard and pay their bills are being punished for those who sell drugs, rape, steal, and murder.
The United States is an accepting home to many cultures and walks of life, allowing us to share this with those who want to give back and make something for themselves and a good name for their culture. We have white trash, we have gangs, criminals and we have individuals in leadership positions who have taken advantage of their power and the freedom they have all the way from politicians to businessmen to religious leaders. We cant do anything but lock them up, but we do not make the rest of society pay the same debt as them for their choices. So why are we doing this to our immigrants?

Desperate Delaware

I have a friend, an unsuspected friend... we are not 2 peas in a pod nor are we inseparable, as we have not seen or nearly talked to each other for over 10 years until 6 months ago. It seems as though we are a million miles apart in lives and worlds. It gives me a perspective how different every person is and how they choose to live their lives or even as much only know how to live their lives from what they were taught, brought up around and grew up in. I only know brief stories of my friend but she is still my friend and a person worth being a friend.

1o years ago I wrote a letter home from Alabama, in Boot Camp... The letter was to my parents and I was in my first week of Boot Camp, I was having a rough time adjusting and I wanted to describe in great details to my parents the things I was going through. The Letter explained that we are each assigned a "Battle Buddy" someone we train with, and do everything with to teach us to work as a team and rely on others... My "Battle Buddy" arrived. I felt doom come over me as I eyeballed her up and down and it wasn't a long way up as my descriptive words in this letter to my parents were pretty right on...."She is short, fat and I want to punch her" I knew the moment I saw her that she was the weaker link and for that, my days in Boot Camp were going to be hell. I was a city girl, she was a farm girl...there wasn't a more opposite pair. Funny how 6 months of training can make a person grow on you.

She is a friend more in my thoughts than most others, she left an unsuspecting mark on me that has changed the way I see people. 10 years ago I judged her for her appearance and where she was from, today She is the strongest, funniest and most spirited person I know.

So to the woman who changed my life, who sends me a text message every day checking up on me and who always keeps things interesting you are one amazing person and you will always have a friend way over on the other side of the states. Hang in there for what life hands to you, may god bless you for the things you do for others and continue to live and love life for what it is.