After a morning of being the payee representative, I finally got out that government office proving my son was real. Knowing good and damn well I’ll be back next week doing the same for my wife. After my dealings with bureaucracy, I actually felt a slight twinge of sympathy from the government employee whom I was dealing with. But such as the life for an unpaid representative for the disabled. Still looking out across that waiting room at all the broken souls with no one to represent them. At least both my wife and my son have me.
In a country that says, “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses…”, at least you'd think you'd get a fighting chance. While many of the same people that wave the flag also cuss under their breath when they see you come. Saying that all the huddled masses are just a bunch of intruder's. But they'll say, don’t you mess with my grandma’s check or deport “my Mexican” out there working my fields. We are so damn hypocritical unless it’s all about us. It’s such a zero sum game we play when it comes down to “the other”. That we would even deny ourselves freedom just make sure they don’t get a helping hand either. Well it’s time for all of us to quit crying and a bitchin’ like a pack of spoiled brats.
Right now there’s a steady breeze blowing the laundry on the line. So I sit here decompressing from my morning helping my son. Knowing good and damn well ain’t nobody else going to volunteer to do it. Yet for all those others hurting in that waiting room. I can’t help but think, does anybody really care about them? Are they someone else’s "other"?
In a land that prides itself on being the land of plenty, and statement only rings true unless it cost you a dime. “Truly, I say to you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the offering box. For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on” (Mark 12:43-44 ESV). So as you rest your head tonight where will your conscience be?
In a country that says, “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses…”, at least you'd think you'd get a fighting chance. While many of the same people that wave the flag also cuss under their breath when they see you come. Saying that all the huddled masses are just a bunch of intruder's. But they'll say, don’t you mess with my grandma’s check or deport “my Mexican” out there working my fields. We are so damn hypocritical unless it’s all about us. It’s such a zero sum game we play when it comes down to “the other”. That we would even deny ourselves freedom just make sure they don’t get a helping hand either. Well it’s time for all of us to quit crying and a bitchin’ like a pack of spoiled brats.
Right now there’s a steady breeze blowing the laundry on the line. So I sit here decompressing from my morning helping my son. Knowing good and damn well ain’t nobody else going to volunteer to do it. Yet for all those others hurting in that waiting room. I can’t help but think, does anybody really care about them? Are they someone else’s "other"?
In a land that prides itself on being the land of plenty, and statement only rings true unless it cost you a dime. “Truly, I say to you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the offering box. For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on” (Mark 12:43-44 ESV). So as you rest your head tonight where will your conscience be?
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