Who's the stranger?

Lately, I've been talking about justice and about some of the issues that garnered our attention during the recent election cycle.

I'm a Christian and as such, I have concerns for how we approach immigration issues in our country. I am aware that people of other faiths have concerns for "the stranger" as well; Christians aren't alone in that desire. So who are the strangers in our world? Our lives? And what are we to do?

In Matthew 25, Jesus talks about the stranger:

"...for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me. Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?' And the king will answer them, 'Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.'"

I certainly don't advocate a policy of letting anyone and everyone into our country with no rules and regulations governing such entry. Somewhere between that and completely closed borders, there must exist a space where we can stake our claim as Americans. With the exception of Native Americans, of course, we have all gotten here because someone in our family line entered the country through an immigration process. At one point, someone in our family was a "stranger" in this land. What's your family story?

What does that mean to you? What ideas do you have for bringing justice to this situation? 

Remember to laugh

A sense of humor. It's one of the qualities in life I definitely want to keep. How about you?

I've seen the saving grace of a sense of humor in so many others. My father is one example. He lived with cancer for 11 years, enduring radiation, chemotherapy and surgery multiple times as it moved around his body until it finally landed in his brain. That's what finally got him—although my sister and I think it really was the radiation focused on his brain that finished him. In any case, he kept his sense of humor right up to the very end. We saw it come through time and again in those final days we spent with him in a hospice facility saying our goodbyes.

I saw it again the other day in the Facebook posts of a friend who's been dealing with multiple medical issues for months and months. She exhibits that humor along with her faith regularly, so somehow I know she'll be OK, no matter what. Faith. Hope. A sense of humor. They are some of the things that will get us through.

What would you add to that list?