I had a pedicure today from a Vietnamese woman who escaped
Vietnam. I’ll call her June.
When she was nine years old her mother along with thirteen
other people from their family fled. They lived on an island off Vietnam and
when the decision was made; her mother threw her and her brothers into the
water and told them to swim to the boat out from the shoreline. She had been
teaching them to swim previously.
There were thirty people in the small boat trying to get to
Thailand. Her mother had hidden food inside her clothing. There was no room in
the boat to even turn around. They drifted for two or three days to safety.
They spent two years in a camp where her mother learned some English, how to
write a check, shop for groceries and other basic skills.
They were sponsored by a church near Grand Rapids, MI.
Before they left, when they were living in Vietnam, they had
to declare the number of people living in their home and could only purchase
enough rice for that many people. Also they could only purchase enough material
or clothing for that many people. This was to deter anyone from hiding a person
from the authorities.
Oh, and by the way, her father was taken from their home
when she was four because he was working for Americans. They had no idea
whether he was alive or dead.
About 10 years after arriving in the US they were informed
he was alive and finally released from prison.
June was in fifth grade, knew no English and was the only “foreign”
kid in the school. She had to learn the language along with everything else
taught in the school. She was the “different” kid. She looked different, talked
different, totally different.
She has since become a citizen as well as the rest of her
siblings and her mother. They are all working in various occupations all over
the country.
I asked her what she thought about all the “stricken,
afflicted, suffering” people who didn’t get their candidate voted into office.
The pain and agony that has crippled these free Americans that need to check
out of life because it’s all too much to bear.
She said “send them to me. I’ll tell them what suffering is
all about. They have no clue what freedom really is.”
For too many, freedom has no value. How have we arrived to
the place where freedom is not recognized? Where have we failed along the way? How
sad that so many American’s have perished on foreign soil for so many who have
no regard or appreciation of that sacrifice.
Is it too late to change the direction of our future? Can we
teach those who don’t to do? Can we teach them to cherish, treasure and hold
dear the freedom they don’t even comprehend?
I have no solution to this problem. I have no way to wrap
this blog up into a nice tidy package with a feel good ending.
I hope June’s story will cause some to stop and think. Think
and react in an honorable way and to hold our freedoms to the high significance
it deserves.
