One of the amazing things of growing up as an adult here in Spain, is the two points of view that I'm granted. I'm from one world, but since I was 26 years old, I have lived in another.

I live with two Jamies, one that speaks Spanish a little accented one way and another depending on my feelings, sometimes all day long, and another one that speaks clipped Chicago English, especially after I've been on the phone with my brother.

I have two points of view and sometimes they don't always live happily together.

But one thing that remains steadfast, is that I believe. I believe in God, what we call the mystery that we can only view as a mound that is covered by by a large blanket. I believe He loves us so much, He sent His son to make things simple to us stupid people.

But we are also created in His image and to love Him is to love those around us.

The immigrant, for one.

I've been one, and technically I still am a long term resident of a country I pay taxes and social security to, but can't vote in.

And this week, another immigrant, this time from the East ,and not the West, but from places that my family once hailed from, called me.

Jamie, she says in a clipped accent in Spanish, the Slavic accent underneath it all giving her away, we need an apartment. This family who got kicked out of their country, and has nothing but a bit of money, lost their homes, their cars, their businesses, are now looking for a humble flat. They found a cafe to rent, and they are working hard, but they need a home.

She sends me their papers, and I stare into faces that feel all too familiar. Like my dad says, we're related. Like Uncle Ron with his big loud voice and bringing my mom pierogis said too loudly, Use Poles and Slavs and Russians, we are all related."

And I am. And seeing their names and faces and date of birth makes me wonder that if my own family hadn't packed up 100 years ago where would I be today? Speaking Ukrainian and fighting a war? 

So tomorrow, I will shake their hands, and will hold back tears, the ones that flow freely as I write this. We show them a little apartment and hope they can find peace after so much torment, crisis and evil.

And we pray for peace. And we love those made in His image, which shows others how much He loves us. This is the good news. And we cry, deliver us from evil.