I, Too, am a Refugee

“I, Too, am a Refugee” Personal Narrative
By Katie Vanderheyden October 17, 2007

Rain slammed down hard on Loring Park
It slammed the stories
Of the boy who’s face was blown off by a bomb
Of the girl who carried her brother
On her back
Everyday
To get medicine

Into my mind

The mud splashing the misery onto my feet
As the puddles of distant pain grew deeper
They flooded the guilt of the American Individual
The guilt of having freedom
Of having enough

There were 10,000 people in Uganda
Huddled in a field, he said
He got a call and went
They escaped
A rescue worker died trying to help
She gave her life

Puddles deepening

I’m sure I could die of self obsession
Here in America
In Darfur, in Chad, in Colombia
They want to be safe
To eat food

Suffering, we all are
Some more affluently than others

We have a lot of stuff
What about empty jars without water?
They have so many over there
Got to pump it from wells
If they have a well to pump from

I never see where my water comes from
Know I get thirsty
Know what it feels like to appear full
But to be empty

If their jars were full
Would they want more?
Don’t we need more than food and water?
Looks that way, here in America
When I watch TV
When I go to college

I do
Want more
I can’t sleep sometimes
Because its not enough
The food
The water
My affluent quality of life

It’s not enough for me

Fallen, Broken
We are
In Darfur, in Chad, In Colombia
Everywhere
Here, in America

Fighting, Despairing
We are

Unconsciously attracted to life
Hoping forever is real
Rest for our souls
Wanting to know the secret
Groaning for places that sparkle
From conversation to conversation
Heaven, Utopia, Nirvana…
Begging to be given everything we need
Or acting like we need nothing

Jesus Christ says his yoke is light
Come to him; says he will give us rest
Wasn’t sure if he was just my “homeboy” a “good man”
Or a liar
Stopped believing in the cultural Jesus
Wanted to know him
For real

Truth

Use to think he wanted just the good ones
Now I know Him
Know he likes to take the ones broken, crying
Messy and honest
Like me

Says he will see us in paradise
Not because we’re good enough
But because of his mercy

I am a refugee
From sin
From guilt
From hiding
From the weight of others’ eyes
Got so heavy, I laid my burden down

Still fighting, but not despairing
Persecuted, but not abandoned
Struck down, but not destroyed
His joy is going to be my strength

His joy, His strength

A free gift he says
But I want to act like I have
A wealth of knowledge and peace
Like I understand
But I don’t
Just know it felt real dark
And I got scared that the dark would take me
I needed a refuge
A rescue worker
Who would die for me

A free gift to
Everyone who is fleeing
Everyone who wants to escape
For all of the refugees

Who have nothing left but belief

I don’t feel free because of America
Or because I can eat, go to college, and be clean
Actually, I feel heavy chains here
Maybe there are chains are everywhere…

Maybe its because we’re all sinners—
We know not what we do

Offending a perfect God
Could we admit it?
Would we?
If we knew—
We could be completely accepted
Approved of
Lavished in grace

“Forgive them, Father—
They know not what they do,”
He prayed

But dancing with him
The one who made himself poor
Who loved prostitutes, outcasts, beggars
Like me

Laying my sin upon him
Like he’s my best friend’s ear
Being made new, scars erased
That’s where I feel the most free

For what he’s done now
What joy, what peace!
I am not who I use to be…

Never thought, never dreamed…

He’s come to free me
All I am is worth it to believe
Worth letting go of the past
Worth admitting I am weak
Worth it to start over
To see him live in me
Worth it to feel this true

This free

In my puddle, I can see that
I, too, am a refugee

World’s Apart

Written Saturday, August 09, 2008
12:13 PM

Today, creativity preceded our Saturday checklist at the Stromwall residence.  Soft melodies of a saxophone and a piano drifted into the haze of sunshine through our window as we casually dabbled with our musical passions in our pajamas.  Suddenly,  ideas flooded our humble abode on Huron Blvd, which actually, in comparison to most of the world, is like a mansion filled with amazing amenities most do not have access to- running water, a fully supplied kitchen, cupboards with food, a couch, computers, a great piano to play… let me backtrack. It is not a humble abode at all when looking through a global lens. Its actually quite luxurious, even though it is considered the least expensive place to live near the University of Minnesota.  So… am I rich or poor? In a matter of 30 seconds, each literate person with access to the internet could have their definitions of wealth and poverty completely redefined by one click on links to websites such as: http://www.globalrichlist.com, http://www.globalissues.org, and http://www.tanzanialifeproject.org.

Don’t worry, I’m not just going to propose a challenge without taking the plunge myself myself. Thirty seconds ago, I thought I was one of those young, “just starting off” college grads who just upgraded old silverware for some nice new silverware. After 30 seconds of clicking, I have been whacked over the head with what feels like a large baseball bat. I think I actually felt my brain jiggle after I visited http://www.globalrichlist.com/ and learned that in college, I lived among the top 13% of the richest people in the world. That means I was richer than 87% of the world.  Holy Smokes! Let me get specific. I worked as a nanny and a waitress for one year of college. Combined, I made near $10,000 in a year from those jobs. This puts me in the top 13.31% of the richest people in the world, economically speaking. Let me give you a visual (which you could see too in about 30 seconds)…