I saw this picture of me on fb this morning, snapped by friend Stanley, while working with those seeking asylum in the United States. First glance, simply thought “I’ve done that a lot of places…” Taken a few minutes in the middle of someone’s heartbreak to simply listen. Then I remembered this specific moment, not yet 48 hours ago, but the hours are filled with so many minutes.

The man in the red cap is from Haiti. He’s been traveling for months to get to the U.S. Border in hopes of a new and better life. He has no idea the hurdles that stand before him. I can only imagine the road that led him out of his earthquake ravaged, impoverished homeland, to the simple fellowship hall in this humble Tijuana church.

I asked if he had heard from any family or friends since the hurricane killed so many last week. Suddenly alert and wanting exact translation he sought out the help of the man standing next to me, from Senegal, who’s English was much better.

What should have been obvious was made clear, he had no idea of the new catastrophe to hit Haiti. No way to find out if everyone was OK. Stunned when I shared with him the magnitude of the storm. No one to call and check on.

Imagine for a moment being that “stranger in a strange land.” How many fb friends do you have? How warm and comfortable is your life this morning? Do the donated blankets, piled against the walls, covering skinny bodies; hungry, hoping, look as if you merely emptied just one of your closets and scattered belongings on the floor?

These people won’t try and sneak into the United States. Each of them fully understands that just one mark on their application for asylum will keep them out of their dream forever.

They wait at our border. A community of hope each running from their own personal hurricane. Please keep them in your prayers. Keep the generous people of Mexico and their policy makers in your prayers as well.

They can’t sleep on floors forever.

I’m guessing that within the decade there’ll be a colonia in Tijuana called Zona Africa. You’ll take your family to sample the exotic experience when they visit from out of town. Maybe have the kids picture taken on the back of a burro, painted like a zebra, next to a real, live African.

Sound impossible? We did it with the Mexicans in their own country. I’m wearing a big sombrero with the name Pedro painted on it in mine. Tijuana, 1984. Nothing racist about that… right?

This won’t be a secret for much longer.

There needs to be a solution – until then, we can love and serve. Yesterday, in my office, helped a man rebuild hope with his broken family. This morning, prayed for a mom who’s missing her son. These people on the road are family members. Sons and daughters in search of new life running from darkness most of us have never known. We can’t fix their problems. We can be loving, compassionate and do what we can do. We can listen.

Until a solution arises or God points me in another way, I suspect they’re part of my life as well, for which I am thankful. Going again next Wednesday afternoon. No idea what to expect. Could use your prayers, help and company. Would rather not go alone.

Jesus said “Whatever you do for the least of these, you’ve done for me.” Serving, it’s a growth industry. It’s what we were created for. You’re Invited!