I have no doubt at all the Devil grins,
As seas of ink I spatter.
Ye gods forgive my “literary” sins —
The other kind don’t matter.
by Robert Service
Not great theology, but a great way to begin asking your forgiveness for my “literary” sin (or is that literary “sin”?) of not writing for a while. If you follow me on Facebook, you’ll know my son was in a car accident, which led to some good bruises and contusions, which then led to an infection in his hand from what they thought was a minor puncture wound, which led to hospitalization for eight days, two surgeries, and four to six weeks of IV antibiotics. He’s on home health care now, and will not be working for at least the rest of the Summer. But he’s here. Alive. With four limbs, though his dominate hand resembles ground hamburger. More surgeries to come is my guess, but I’m holding out for perfect healing this side of Heaven with just two surgeries, many dressing wraps and re-wraps, and antibiotics. Sepsis is no joke. I knew that before they told me it was my son’s lot, and upon hearing the news, my Mama heart spun into turmoil. That turmoil resulted in the “sin” of not writing, as nobody wants to hear an emotional Mama go on and on about her troubles with her man cub.
Anyway. Whilst in the hospital advocating for said man cub, I updated on Facebook about the situation. I hate Facebook. But I love prayer, and posting seemed the most simple way to rally the prayerful troops. We had people all the way to Australia praying for us, and that meant a lot to me. I mean, hopefully people didn’t just say they were praying yet in reality went about their day watching soap operas or reading or washing dishes or taking care of patients. I hope they actually prayed. I’ve certainly been guilty of typing in a comment promising I’ll pray, but then going about life willingly oblivious to my friend’s troubles. I’ve learned, if I say I’m going to pray, to pray immediately, or not say I’m going to pray. Because that’s a true sin — not praying when I say I will.
Whilst the man cub was convalescing, the immigration outrage was also brewing. I’ve unfollowed almost every political outlet known to Facebook, because it was clearly not good for my psychological state. However, the news, when as uproarious as it has been lately, will still get through. The bigger the outrage, the more it comes through, but the unfollowing allows me to miss the every day yanging on President Trump, so that’s nice. Some days, I’m surprised Americans aren’t privy to the timing of his bowel movements. Although even if we were, the information would be wrong.
Wrong, like the information about the Honduran girl who supposedly was separated from her mother. Nobody stopped to let things play out before they let loose on social media with their “knowledge”, followed by their solution to the problem. And Trump bashing. Problem was, true facts were not presented. People who were not to blame were blamed. Leftists took the opportunity to “prove” the POTUS is the Devil, just as they’ve been saying all along.
Yet, turns out, in spite of TIME magazine’s cover photo claiming otherwise, the girl wasn’t separated from her mother. In fact, the mother separated the girl from her two sisters and from her father who claims he has a good job — all against the family’s wishes. Then she took six thousand dollars, hired a coyote, and attempted to cross the border illegally.
And so my questions are:
Why did the Mom leave her apparently supportive family?
Why did she feel it necessary or even wise to separate the girl from her father and two sisters? Is that not traumatic for a child?
Why didn’t she go through due process? She is welcome in the United States, as long as she migrates legally.
Why did she spend six thousand dollars on illegally entering the country, when she could have spent the money to enter legally?
And if she is so destitute, where did the six thousand come from in the first place? I don’t consider myself destitute, and yet, I do not have six thousand dollars. I don’t even have six-hundred dollars.
I’ve been fighting for my kid this week, too. Healthcare isn’t what it used to be, and I know this because I’ve been in and out of hospitals and doctor offices since I was ten. When I had open heart surgery at age 17, the total cost was $53,000.00. My Dad, who had what would have been considered good but not excellent healthcare, paid $500.00 out of pocket. That’s it. For everything. Blood work. Anesthesia. Hospital room. Everything. The insurance paid the rest.Now, my son is still on our insurance, but when his bills come rolling in, trust me, he will not pay anywhere near $500.00 out of pocket. No, $500.00 will just be the tip of the iceberg. And this is hand surgery we are talking about. Not open heart surgery, plus a pacemaker implant and a three week hospital stay. Additionally, thanks to ObamaCare, the quality of our healthcare is quickly declining. Hospitals are understaffed. Surgeons are in a hurry. They determine whether your son needs surgery via their PA’s iPhone pictures (not joking). And when they’re too busy to perform surgery, though it’s obvious even to the layman that surgery is needed, they simply push your son back a day or so, until your son’s thumb turns black and as a result, has to be skinned alive. And then? They skin the kid, but they don’t open up the hand and drain the infection, even though the hand is four times it’s normal size and obviously has a pocket of puss the size of a pint of buttermilk festering all the way up to his armpit, as indicated by the red, streaky veins. This leads to a second surgery to finally drain the puss from the man cub’s hand, which should have been done 36 hours before.
Life? Limb? Apparently not important enough to take a simple walk down to the patient’s room, actually lay eyes on him and his wound, and take a sepsis infection seriously. To rid a person of sepsis, you must operate, drain, and administer IV antibiotics. That is not rocket science. That is one notch above common sense.
So yeah. I know a bit about fighting for my child’s life, it just looks a little bit different than the Honduran Mom’s fight. Some news for anyone who takes her girl away from her home, her family, and everything she knows to flee here:
Sometimes, it’s not that great in America. We basically don’t like each other. Sometimes, we don’t like illegal immigrants, because they take away our jobs, and we the people are forced to pay their medical bills because they refuse to come over the border and work. They just want to come over and be taken care of. But the world doesn’t work that way – not the American world. If immigrants want to come here, awesome. The more the merrier, unless we’re talking about moochers. Our doors are wide open, but once someone walks through, provided they’ve gone through due process, it is their duty contribute to society by working, and they need to get their own health insurance – because I can’t afford to pay my medical bills plus their medical bills.
Nothing is free. Someone always pays, and in the case of healthcare, it’s me and a lot of other hard working Americans. Is the door to my country open to those who want to come be a part of the good ol’ US of A? Yes! But I’m afraid the true spirit of America gets lost on some immigrants, and even some American citizens. The US of A isn’t about being taken care of by the government, contrary to liberal thought. It’s about opportunity to care for yourself. Your loved ones. Not through welfare, but through hard work – whatever that looks like: waitressing, doctoring, plumbing … you pick.
Life is hard. People think it’s not as difficult in America, but the truth is that it’s difficult in it’s own way. Wherever one settles, there will be problems. America is no exception. If things don’t turn around, we may begin tearing one another limb from limb – brothers or not. It’s ugly. We are ugly. Perhaps we haven’t learned anything from the Civil War, or maybe we think we’re immune to something as horrific as turning our beautiful land into a battle field. Yet hate is hate, whatever century you’re living in, and hate often leads to bloody insistence on winning.
My admonition, then, is this:
Stop believing everything the media says before it’s confirmed as truth. Stop hating the President and pray for him instead. Love our enemies. Care for the widow and the orphan (which does not look like spewing hate on Facebook to those we feel aren’t doing the caring). Mind our own business. One of the most noble, loving thing any American citizen can do is work in obscurity. Just … work. Quietly. Put nose to grindstone and provide for personal needs, so the government and others aren’t pressured to.
True religion is caring for the orphan and the widow. The Bible says that. The Bible also says if anyone will not work, neither shall he eat. It’s time to take the entire Word to heart, not only the parts that fuel our narrative and promote our agenda.