MercyCast

A few years ago, a town about 30 minutes from us had a huge number of Somalian immigrants move in. I don't know how it came about. I know they were brought because of the turkey plant there was struggling in a big way. Like many small towns, finding workers is a huge problem--especially when it comes to processing meat. The whole town relied on this turkey plant--not just factory workers, but the farms providing food, the businesses supporting the workers. If the turkey plant fell, it all fell. If I were to guess, I would guess the city leaders applied or requested these immigrants. That doesn't mean the whole town wanted it. Small town politics can be brutal. In the middle of rural Minnesota, women in full hijabs were walking down the street, and it freaked everyone out. The infrastructure to support them wasn't there. The kids in the school couldn't speak English. It was a mess. One of the ladies at my super conservative church who was the director of the crisis pregnancy center resigned from her job, and started driving 30 minutes each way, visiting the Somali women door to door as her new, self-appointed job. She taught them English. She helped them with their babies, as there were regular new moms there too. She helped them find services. She became their friend. She borrowed knitting needles from me once because she was teaching them how to knit. Another lady did nothing but complain about the Somalians overtaking the neighboring town. She said it was just a matter of time before we were all muslim. She was terrified of them. Her tribe of disgruntled Christians who wanted to "keep America the way it is" grew. The town took a lot of adjusting. The grocer started getting in foods more familiar to them. The resources were slow, but they came. The city leaders started putting on events where different cultures could mix and learn about one another. It wasn't all pretty. My friend from church who became their friend started teaching the women about their rights in America. Our church donated spare furniture to a woman who escaped her abusive husband, as she started nursing school. What was culturally acceptable in Somalia was illegal here, and it took quite a bit of adjusting. It wasn't perfect--probably very painful, but it saved the town, and people actually became friends, and it saved a lot of Somalians, and in the end was a net gain for everyone. I don't know. The question of "who is my neighbor?" is one that will continue to haunt us.