Miguel A. Lemus
Eng. 160 Spring
1/27/14 Crossing the Other Side

One Friday evening my mother lit some Virgin Mary glass candles and placed them across the counter of our kitchen. My little brother, Andres, stood there wondering why my mother placing candles around our home.
“Mommy, why are you burning candles when it is not even Christmas yet?” Andres asked.
We usually lit candles on Christmas or the day of our Virgin Mary birthday because is traditional to Mexican families. Without making the conversation complicated to Andres, who was seven at the time, my mother answered that my uncle Fernando is coming to the U.S. Of course Andres didn’t understand but he was happy anyway. I understood completely as I listened to both of them because my uncle does not have legal permission to come to the U.S. A few months have passed by and my family headed to St. Gall church on the south side of Chicago. We don’t attend church every Sunday regularly, but since the church recently have a new priest, we go often now. It is interesting because we use to have a priest –or as we like to call it father- named Alonso. With all due respect, Father Alonso was a great priest but his mass can make any person fall asleep within ten minutes. Now that we have a different priest, father Gary, he’s far more interesting because he’s passionate about the things he says to the people. Vice versa we love to listen to him that it seems like three hours was just ten minutes.
“Today I would like to announce that I’m going to head down South [Mexico] and cross the U.S. border with a couple of immigrants that I’m going meet” announced Father Gary. “So don’t worry about me, with a prayer of yours I’ll be fine.” “When do you leave father?” shouted one of the church people. “Soon, very soon my dear son” replied Father

People at church started staring at each other confused, including myself. I’m wondering why on earth he would want to do that when he was born here. It did not make any sense to me at all because he’s a legal citizen. Besides that, it is just a waste of time. After church I forget all about what Father Gary has told us and started living my normal life once again. I started a conversation with my mom about her experiences when she crossed the desert border when she was younger with me as a kid. I could not remember much but all I know that the desert was a steaming hot place. I remember that I would ask my mom for water every twenty steps that I made because the heat was beating me down to the dried ground. “It was one of the most fearful moments I ever encountered” my mom said. “Especially having you as a child was even more challenging, but I’m glad we don’t need to go through that again.” In one November evening, my close friend Alfredo has called me to head over his house to discuss over the Dream Act he was applying to. I know the feeling of finally being a legal citizen in the U.S. because I got my papers when I was about ten, I was really excited. I have the feeling that Alfredo will react the same way, especially when you’re a teen because he can now attend college without worrying about not having a social security number. “Hey bro, can you write me a letter stating that I was here in the summer of 2012?” Alfredo asked. “Sure man, I got you.” I said. “But why do you need a letter for?” “Because so you can be my witness to prove that I was here in the U.S. without leaving the country.” Alfredo explained. “That what they asking for, proofs that shows that I haven’t left the country since the day I immigrated here.”
I still don’t understand though. Why some native people in the U.S. are against immigrants when America was created by immigrants as well in the first place. It started with white people coming from Europe, as immigrants, to America when at the time; the land belonged to the native Indians during the 1400’s. The population of native Indians decreased due to deaths by war with the European “immigrants” or by the disease that were carried by the settlers and traders. The European then decided to stay on the new land they “discover” for a new beginning of life and freedom. But again, I don’t get why some Americans hate illegal immigrants when some Americans or their past ancestors were also immigrants. One night during rainy April, I turned on the TV and changed to the Spanish news, Univision. I was shocked to see Father Gary appeared on my screen. One of the reporters cried “A priest known as Father Gary from Chicago has recently turned himself to the Arizona police.” I did not understand why he wanted to turn himself in because I know I would not like to face jail time. Once again the reporter reported “Father Gary would like to ask for forgiveness for crossing the U.S. border illegally last night.” A couple weeks later, Father Gary has returned back to Chicago. The Arizona police set him free without charges because it did not make sense crossing the border when he’s already legal to this country. I was curiously excited, for the first time, to attend church to hear what Father Gary has to say. “I wanted to experience the danger of crossing the border the way some of you did” said Father Gary. “Once I was crossing with a kind family, I felt so much anger inside me because the people who never walked in their shoes, will judge them unfairly.” His words were so touching and wisely that my eyes and mind opened wide. I started to recall every moment that we crossed the border before, never realized the danger we were going through as he described. “It is one of the worst adventures a person can go through, but those people are brave enough to make it out alive.” Father Gary said. “Although, not everyone can make it, I want you to understand that.” Now I realize why he wanted to cross the border. He did it for his people by risking his life on the desert that he could of face death. With his leadership, he made me feel that even though I might have everything in life, there are people out there suffering. We should not always take that for granted and should help out other who needs our help and support. It does not matter if a person is legal or illegal; we all are human breathing the same air and living the same planet. The next month I saw my mother again lighting up another candle in the middle of May. My little brother, Andres, saw but still clueless. I just gave him a soft punch on his left shoulder and took him to his bedroom. I sat next to him beside his bed and started talking. “Make sure you pray every night for those people you love” I said.