What if God was one of us?
What kind of God are you?
Dear God, I hope you get this letter. I hope things will get better around here. we don’t need a big reduction in the price of beer.
Please make the journey easier for people from Mexico to cross the border into Arizona, California, Texas – wherever they want to go, whenever they want to come. They get killed so fast and in horrible ways, because our government keeps trying to ‘save’ them by making it tougher and tougher for them to cross. They get dehydrated, suffocated in overcrowded box cars, crash in cars trying to outrun the border patrol. Such bad ways and sad ways and they are only trying to live here, which is not half as good as they think it is going to be, but probably twice as better as it might be for them now. I see the saints at the botanicas, the ones they pay homage to in order to secure safe passage, little amulets and bags of herbs that will protect them from the harsh elements, the police, the cruelty of false guides who will take their money and dump them when they get to the point of no return. I hope that this magic works, and You let them use it, and maybe if so, You could count their spells as a big, collective wish and grant all of them that. I hope that the people that would have them arrested and sent back, the ones that believe that the migrants are responsible for the unemployment crisis, who are not looking at who they are, just folks wanting a better life, people, real live people, with mothers and fathers and grandparents and children, friends and family and even enemies and acquaintances and the weird relationships in between where you know someone’s face enough to say hi, but more often than not you just ignore them because you are not quite sure where you know them from and you probably should know their name or they might know yours and it will be a situation where introductions will be in order and you might find yourself in a pickle – because even the word ‘migrants’ sounds like a problem that needs the exterminator dude with the big hammer. The one that lives in Silverlake. Make the word ‘migrants’ sound like ‘me’, or someone’s daughter’s name, or the name of the one that got away that you should have married but didn’t. I know that You are not a showoff, but it would be great if You could make some water when they need it, some food when they are hungry, some wings when they have to fly for whatever, from whatever, a nice Coleman stove, s’mores – You have guided people through the desert before, and I am pretty sure You know how. Because now it is just so shitty, and it has been shitty for a while. I remember that one truck, with a bunch of people in the back, going fast as they could, to get to the other side, and the border patrol ran them off the road, and it was all on tape Lord so don’t act like You didn’t see it. They were beating the people with the nightsticks, a small lady all crumpled up on the floor of the truckbed trying to shield her body from the blows. And for what? Their safety? And what are we afraid they are going to come in and do? Compete with Harvard graduates for brutal, non-unionized farm labor? I know that You have a plan and shit, but would You then try to explain Your fucking plan to at least one person so that maybe we could have a way to understand You and avoid all the death and mayhem? Needless death and mayhem in the name of.? Immigration? Isn’t that what America was made for? Didn’t we steal the shit anyway? I don’t give a fuck who lives in my town. I don’t. And I think that there are a lot of people who agree. If the entire world wanted to stay at my house for a couple of months, just until they find a place, fucking bring it. I gots mad blankets God, and an air mattress and all kind of dope shit for the discriminating sleeper. I don’t mean to brag, but I have higher thread counts than body counts, and I am not opposed to sharing. I don’t mean to take Your name in vain, but You never said that You didn’t like it, and I have secret feelings that You think it is funny. Anyway God, I am grateful for all the shit You done for me, You been there God, You my playa, aiiight? You know we boys and shit. I know that You left that single set of footprints from carrying my ass all over the place. So thank You for letting me be myself again. But seriously though, let them come over.
Oh yeah, in Jesus name, Amen.