Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses…

September 18, 2014

It’s a new season here at Village of Hope!  And we’re all very excited about the things to come.  The things that are happening.

Speaking of things to come, I’m excited to publicly announce (for the very first time) that I’ll be moving here at the Village as of October 1st.  I’ve accepted a position as onsite staff, and as such will be moving into my new home in just a couple of short weeks.  So as the team prepares my new home for me, I’m packing my life away in boxes, and preparing to enter this new season.  I enter with excitement for what’s up ahead.

 When I was in the fifth grade, my teacher made us memorize this (what was at that time) this super weird poem.  It seemed to fit him, since he was also old, and weird.  He had wildly thick salt and peppered curly hair.  It was frizzy, and unkempt.  He wore glasses that always slipped to the tip of his large German nose.  He was in charge of the folk dancing club at school, of which I was a part of, only because it meant that I got to skip math class twice a week to go to performances.  But I digress…

So he made us memorize this poem, and I thought it was all very weird.  I did what the other fifth graders did:  I laughed my way through the entire recital to my class, then taking my seat, acting like I didn’t care to begin with.  Even as a fifth grader, I was dying to fit in.  But I didn’t know how this poem would ring true in my life.

It’s funny how things change.  It’s like the veil was lifted.  The scales fell from my eyes, and suddenly I could see:

“Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

I must admit, these words have become incredibly important to me.  Oh, my youthful ignorance.  I did not know then what I know now.

For one, I should not have skipped out on math class twice a week.  Maybe then I wouldn’t need a calculator for anything my fingers can’t handle.  F’real.  Then on the other hand, I didn’t know the way my heart would grow to care.  For hurting people.  For Village of Hope.

 Emma Lazarus was talking about the Statue of Liberty, and how it was to be a symbol of invitation and hope to those looking for safety in New York’s harbor.  But at Village of Hope, we desire to be a that same symbol for the people of Bemidji.

For the tired, a place to rest.  

For the weary, a place of provision.  A place of help.

For those huddled masses yearning to breathe free, a breath of fresh air.

And so we lift our lamps, and invite them in.  Day after day.  Week after week.  Month after month.  We desire to be a beacon of light in darkness.  A voice of hope to the hopeless.

And we’ve seen real change.
It’s possible.

It’s happening.

And we believe it’s true.


2 Responses to “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses…”

  1. Beth Says:

    but only if you aren’t a single male

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