You might not remember me, but I remember you.
I showed up on your doorstep eleven years ago, frightened and bedraggled.
And you opened your doors.
You made room in your homes and hearts for us. You hugged me in the grocery store, and gave me money. Your children befriended mine at school, and you made room for us in the pew at Mass. You shared your kindness and made me believe that everything was going to be all right.
I thanked you, and prayed that I would never have the opportunity to repay you.
But that’s not how it has turned out.
So I’m on my way. I’ll stock up on whatever I can find that I think you’ll need. I’ll show up ready to work. And I’ll try my best to make you believe that everything will be all right.
See y’all tomorrow.