For Wilshire Baptist Church
I was out mowing on the morning of July Fourth and looked up to see Orlando, our Cuban refugee neighbor, giving me a thumbs up from across the street. I call him a “refugee” without really knowing his story. I know his daughter came here some years ago, met and married a man from Mexico while they both worked at a large downtown hotel, and eventually brought her parents over. Refugees, immigrants, migrants, legal, illegal — I just don’t know. They’re our neighbors and good neighbors at that, and like many of us home-grown types they are mostly private and keep to themselves.
Continue reading “Strength for the Journey”