358/365. Sunday, 22 April.
It was humbling, you know, to be on the floor of this Sri Lankan family’s small, one-room home, being offered an endless amount of food and being treated like family. Humbling because, after coming back from the States, all my wife and I kept talking about was wanting to move to a newer, bigger place. We wanted things. Lusted, even. Meanwhile there are people like Mary’s family making the most of living in such a cramped space, unable to find work because they are refugees and thus not officially recognized by the Thai government. We visited them today, this family of four that my wife KC and I sponsor, bearing food and gifts. Instead it was they who offered what little they had to us.
What a cruel, unfair world. To be exiled from your home country for believing in something different. To not be able to step outside your doorstep without thinking that at any minute, authorities could come to arrest you for being an illegal alien. To not be able to trust the police who know that they could get bribe money by threatening to take you away.
Meanwhile here KC and I were, in our air conditioned apartment, perusing through an IKEA catalogue thinking of what unnecessary purchase to make next.
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