Mariner cannot be found today so his wife graciously submitted one of her insightful essays. We get tied up in numbers and policies, growing insensitive to the fact that these refugees are individuals in the midst of their own lives.

I am a refugee.   Before you judge me, hear my story.  You may have been a refugee once, too.  When my husband’s employer laid off 400 employees in one day, due to a downturn in the economy, our family had to leave our home and travel a thousand miles to a new land and, we hoped, a better job and a new home.  Our children were in school at the time, but they had to say goodbye to their friends and teachers and travel by caravan, with all of our belongings, and the family dog and cat across half of a continent.

When we got to the border of our new country, there was not a wall in place to stop us, and no one questioned our documents.   The border was not guarded and we were able to cross it freely.   I was able to enroll the children in a new school without any hassle.  The children had the advantage of speaking the language and they were the same race as most of their classmates.   Still it was not easy for them to make friends right away, as we were strangers from far away.

We all missed our family and friends in our country of origin.  We grieved the loss of the life that we loved, but we were determined to make the best of our new surroundings.  Even though we looked like we fit into our new community, it took years to feel like we were part of it.  When I first went to the grocery store in the new town, I knew no one and spoke to no one except the checkout clerk.  I looked forward to the next trip to the store, when I could say hello to her again.  It was very lonely in the beginning.

The people in our new town kept to themselves for the most part, although we were welcomed at the local church.  Thank goodness for the church!  Other refugees had sought shelter there as well and helped us to learn the ropes of a new community.  It was wonderful to have a group of friendly people to meet with every week.  It wasn’t that the rest of the townspeople were unfriendly–they just weren’t aware of a new family in their midst who might have trouble finding their way.

We have lived in this new land for a number of years now.  The children eventually made new friends , grew up and moved away.  The dog and cat died and are buried here.  We have put down roots.   I don’t feel like a refugee anymore.  But I will never forget what it felt like to be a stranger in this land.  I hope I will never take it for granted how easy it was for my family to be accepted because we were the right color and spoke the right language.  We had the right papers.  We had resources.   We were never in danger.  I am very grateful that Iowa was here when we needed a job and a home, and there were no walls to keep us out.  We found good jobs and made new friends.  I wish the same for refugees everywhere.

Mrs. Ancient Mariner