December 5 – “Illegal Alien”

I finished the ceilings in two more rooms today.  Doesn't that sound a lot more positive than "I tore out the ceiling and wallowed in piles of insulation"?  All I have left is the living room / study area.  At least it's right by the front door.  I won't have to push the wheelbarrow so far.  Ah, well.  Something to look forward to on Monday.   I had a visitor at the house today.  I know I keep saying "I," but Chris had to return a shirt at the mall (Aaarrrgh!).  I opted to work at the house instead.  It's hard enough to be living off the island in Texas, but going to the Mall on purpose is really tough.  Anyway, I was on what had to be my twentieth wheelbarrow load of insulation and sheetrock when a car pulled into the driveway next door.  Now, that's not an unusual occurrence.  Since the owners aren't returning, many of the neighbors use the driveway.  But this car held none other than James, the son of the owners.  And his girlfriend.  I hadn't met her yet.  She introduced herself and shook my hand.  Great name.  Nichola.  I thought she said Nicholas, but I was corrected quickly.  They spent a few minutes walking around the house.  She refused to look in.  Said it would make her too sad for James.  The reason they came was to pick up something that had been delivered to our house yesterday.  Or maybe earlier this morning.  All I know is that it was stuffed under one of those fake rocks that we had on our front porch.    See, James is trying to buy a big rig truck.  He drives for a living and wants to be on his own.  But James had a problem.  He has to take some kind of test – I don't understand it all – and to take the test he has to show his birth certificate.  He has to prove that he's not an illegal alien.  But he no longer has a copy of his birth certificate.  And his mom moved to California after Ike.  That proved convenient, though, since James was born in California.  His mom got a copy and overnighted it to our house – literally to our house since we weren't there to receive it.  It was good to see James again.  He told me that we are his only family in Texas now.  And Nichola even gave me a hug when they left.   A birth certificate to prove he wasn't an illegal alien.  I wonder what it would be like to really need one of those.  I wonder what it would be like to need some kind of certificate to prove you are a Christian.  It would actually be a document that proves you ARE an alien, though maybe not illegal.  Yet.    Romans 8:16-17 says, "The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs — heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory."   Father, we are your kids.  It makes sense that our home is with you.  And since that's the case, we didn't lose our home at all.  Thank you.  Amen.