Faith, Immigration, and Compassion: A Journey from Homelessness to Hope by Dr. Terry Harman

Immigration, Faith, and the Law

The Immigration Debate

Balancing faith, personal experiences, and the law is not always a black-and-white, this-or-that decision. There are times when doing the right thing creates conflict within our souls. Knowing what the right thing to do is not easy. But once we know the right thing to do, we still have to decide to do it. Easier said than done. I experienced compassion in a laundromat.

I want to start by saying thank you for reading and for sticking with me, even when what I share might not always be easy or comfortable. Opening up like this isn’t something I take lightly. It can be nerve-wracking to be this honest, knowing there’s a chance some might misunderstand or decide my blog isn’t for them anymore. I ask you to hear me out and read to the end before making any decisions.

ICE on the Streets

We have seen the schism between ICE, the National Guard, Law Enforcement, and those who oppose their efforts. Immigration is a hot topic in this country, but the divide has never been wider than it is today. On the one side, I have a deep respect for the law and honestly believe in legal immigration. I don’t pretend to have all the answers - far from it. I know there’s no easy fix for the challenges we face with our immigration system.

My Internal Conflict

This leaves me with my own inner conflict. How do I balance my respect for the law with what my faith calls me to do? The answer I landed on was to extend a hand to those who need it most. For me, that meant helping people I know personally start the legal process to immigrate, doing everything possible to stay on the right side of the law and not overstaying visas, not living in the shadows.

I’ve helped two college students with education visas and a desire to stay after graduation, and a person whose visa expired, to find a legal path forward. Honestly, becoming a "sponsor" is frustrating at times, and the costs, especially for lawyers, can be overwhelming. But that’s how things work. It is what it is.

Insight from Judaism

There is a very famous saying attributed to Rabbi Tarfon, quoted in Pirkei Avot or Ethics of our Fathers, chapter 2:16

"It is not up to you to finish the task, but you are not free to avoid it.”

At the same time, my faith and the experiences I’ve had with folks hoping for a “green card” have taught me something. I cannot help everyone, and unfortunately, some people are beyond my help. Regardless, I must be compassionate and treat each person with dignity, as I try to "love my neighbor as myself" (Leviticus 19:18) through the legal means available to me.

In early life, I lived in a state of insecurity. Yes, caused by my own decisions, but still vulnerable. I know what it means to feel like a stranger in a strange place. Thankfully, a loving God and some truly good people saw past my mess and helped me become something more. I’ve come to believe that no one should be written off because of their circumstances.

The spirit of the Lord God is upon me;

Because the LORD hath anointed me

To bring good tidings unto the humble;

He hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted,

To proclaim liberty to the captives,

And the opening of the eyes to them that are bound.

Isaiah 61:1 JPS 1917

Living as a Stranger

Maybe the reason I struggle with the immigration debate so much is because I remember what it feels like to be on the outside looking in. I was lucky to be born in this country, with so many opportunities, but I was also always chasing excitement in all the wrong ways. I’ve made bad choices - drugs, drinking, living on the edge. I know what it’s like to end up in jail, prison, sleeping under bridges, scrounging for food.

As you read this, I hope you’ll take a moment to reflect on the concluding story. During the worst time in my life, "the other" extended a helping hand to me. Pause for a moment, think about the person behind every story, and how offering even a small bit of kindness can make a real difference.

Discharged from the Army and Short on Cash

As my grandmother used to say, "Don't get too big for my breeches," I reflect on the time in 1978 when I found myself stumbling my way to San Jose, California. At that point, I was without a place to live, now referred to as being homeless, not by choice but due to limited resources.

Having recently been discharged from the Army, money was scarce, and life was challenging. For a brief period, I managed to afford a motel room at the Ooh La Lodge in San Jose, California. While not the most luxurious establishment, it provided a clean and modest shelter during those trying times.

No Proof of Identity

I must share that during that time (1979-80), I had a driver's license issued by the state of Indiana, which was simply a paper driving license without any pictures. California had pictured identification, but not the good old state of Indiana.

I had my original Social Security card and a copy of my military DD 214, but no credit cards or other forms of identification. Indeed, those were different times, not only a different century but also a different millennium. I managed to secure a job with a tree-trimming company, earning $4.25 per hour, which seemed like decent money in 1979, except that the Bay Area was an expensive place to live in.

For several months, I diligently worked and saved my hard-earned paychecks. However, I faced challenges opening a checking account without proper identification. Despite this obstacle, I was too proud to ask my boss for help. Consequently, cashing my paychecks became difficult. There was an option to cash them at the local bar on Fridays if a purchase was made, but this prospect terrified me. You see, I had recently managed to remain sober from all alcohol and drugs for less than two months, and I feared that stepping into the bar would tempt me beyond what I could handle.

As a result, I decided to save my paychecks, hoping that a solution would present itself in due time. My pride prevented me from seeking assistance from my boss, as I was determined to figure things out on my own, even if it meant facing hardships along the way.

My Hotel California

I found a way to "jimmy" the lock on the front gate of the yard where the tree company's trucks were parked. At the end of the day, I would get into my 1976 Ford F-100 pickup truck with "3 on the tree" and pretend to leave for home, just like everyone else. As soon as the coast was clear, I returned to the work site and hid my truck beside the tall Douglas Firs alongside the Crew and Bucket Trucks of the company.

I had a cab on my pickup truck, which provided a place to sleep and protect myself on cold, rainy days. I blacked out the cab windows and created a pallet to sleep on, using cardboard boxes to store the few clothes I had accumulated. Throughout the week, I would eat cold sandwiches until I learned to heat homemade burritos, wrapped in tin foil, on my truck's warm manifold. To ensure I had water for the week, I would walk to the gas station with empty plastic gallon milk jugs and fill them up.

Innovative Showers

Behind my truck and between the Douglas Firs, I had stashed a wooden pallet to stand on for bathing. I'll leave it to your imagination how I managed to wash my hair and body and rinse with water from the gas station spigot. As a treat on weekends, I would travel to Santa Cruz and use the pull-chain showers that surfers used to wash off the saltwater.

It felt great to pull that chain and have fresh water to wash off the soap and shampoo. After my time in the military, I didn't mind the limited accommodations. However, when the cold winter rains became too much to handle while standing on the pallet, I had to find an alternative solution - and that's when I discovered the 24-hour laundromat.

Laudromat Migrants and Hot Plates

During the winter, I would go to the laundromat around 3:00 AM. It was usually deserted, except for three Mexican fellows who would come in and plug in a hot plate to cook their food for the day. I assumed they were migrant workers; the same people I saw line up for day work as laborers.

Growing up with a father who was a dockman, cursed and drank excessively, and held racist views similar to Archie Bunker from "All in the Family," I must admit I didn't have a favorable opinion of Mexicans or migrant workers. We would acknowledge each other with the "man nod" but never engaged in conversation. I didn't speak Spanish, and I assumed they didn't know English.

Concrete Sinks Become a Washing Station

On certain days, I would load up the washing machine with quarters to clean my work and street clothes. The dryers were on the opposite side of the washers. However, just around the rear corner of the laundromat, there was a concealed concrete sink, hidden from the view of the front windows and most of the rest of the laundromat. It was perfect for washing myself. I no longer needed water jugs and a pallet! On the other side of the laundromat, the migrants used the space to wash clothes and cook. I often wondered, "How do these guys stay so clean? I never see them washing up at the laundromat."

On several occasions, I noticed migrants observing me as I took off my shirt and washed, rinsing my hair, arms, and chest. Once the top half was done, I'd put on a clean shirt and then strip down naked to wash my lower extremities, repeating the process. I had a system that allowed me to bathe in less than ten minutes, all the while praying that no one else would come to wash clothes at 3:00 AM.

Humility Learned from Compassion

One early morning, as I finished my routine at the laundromat, one of the migrants motioned for me to come over. They handed me two things. First, I received three wrapped burritos fresh off the hot plate. Second, they gave me a piece of common cardboard. On one side was a hand-drawn map with directions to a truck stop near Highway 101. On the other side, two quarters were Scotch-taped to the back of the cardboard. No more baths at the concrete sink!

It was a humbling moment. People that I had not cared much for and even looked down upon showed compassion towards this white boy from the Midwest who was trying to make a living with limited resources, much like they were.

I've only shared this story one time. Captain Daniel Paredes of The Salvation Army in East Chicago, Indiana, asked me to share this story with his congregation on Christmas Day in 2011. He kindly translated it into Spanish as I delivered the sermon and concluded with the above story.

Conclusion

I still have no suggestions for fixing the immigration issue in our country. I am grateful for the blessings and opportunities that have come my way. I pray I can always say, "Grandma, I did not get too big for my britches." God has been faithful in both my lowest and best moments in life. In truth, it is not solely my skills that have brought me thus far, but rather the guidance and wisdom of those who have afforded me. I am humbled and honored to be entrusted with the task of sharing the profound principles of the Bible, the best way I can.

Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father,

Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world:

For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink:

I was a stranger, and ye took me in:

Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me:

I was in prison, and ye came unto me.

Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee?

Or thirsty, and gave thee drink?

When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee?

Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee?

And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you,

Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren,

ye have done it unto me.

Matthew 25:34-40 KJV

With each encounter, I am reminded of the importance of humility and gratitude. It is through the teachings of the Bible and the wise teachings of others that I find the strength to remain steadfast and true. In embracing humility, I hope to continue illuminating the sacred teachings, allowing them to touch the hearts of those who seek truth and inspiration in the timeless words of the Bible.

I have not bathed at a laundromat in nearly forty-six years. I will never forget the compassion of three men trying to earn a living the best way they knew how, and one lost soul trying to make it living in the back of a truck.

How You Can Thank Me

If you enjoyed reading this post and you're wondering how you can thank me, here’s what I ask: Take the inspiration you’ve found here and pass it on.

Consider donating your time, talents, or treasure to a worthy cause in your community. Maybe there’s a widow who could use help with her yard. Perhaps you know someone who’s recently lost a job and could use a helping hand. Maybe your local community center, homeless shelter, or school program is looking for mentors; step in and support them.

Look within your own religious or spiritual community. What needs do you see around you? Where can you make a difference?

You don’t need a lot. Just do what you can, with what you have, to make this world a better place. Your kindness will ripple out farther than you can imagine. Thank you for being here, for reading, and for choosing to be a light.

Shalom, Terry