Happy
He showed up at the gate one day.
Somebody fed him.
It's what you do.
After all, it's a home for migrants,
A home for people on the move,
A place to give them a place,
Belonging,
Shelter,
Food,
Comfort,
Medical attention,
Clothing,
A path forward,
Childcare,
Training,
Employment in the community,
Community itself.
People on the move need a place where they can help others on their journey.
Happy showed back up the next day,
And the next,
And the next.
A volunteer brought him inside,
Gave him a bed,
Adopted him.
The little furball set up his own routine,
Climbing down the stairs each morning at 9,
Wagging his greeting at every office door,
Sharing his joy of belonging,
Having a place.
Happy had been on the move,
Now he keeps to the upper floor,
Adopted by successive volunteers,
Content as part of a moving community,
A shifting community,
A community welcoming all who enter.
Fur or skin no difference makes,
We all need belonging, pack, family, home.
The two legged migrants coming through Casa del Migrante have likewise been turned out, abandoned, seen a need for new horizons, new beginnings.
Somehow, it seems easier to welcome another species than our own.
An alien life form would find the world's attention focused on them,
Billions seeking to learn their story,
Eyes wide with wonder at an experience of life different from our own.
I don't bother learning your story, however,
You don't bother learning mine.
We could be more like Happy,
Making ample room for welcome,
For expanding our community,
For openly greeting friends we’ve yet to meet.
We could be more like Happy.
We could be happier.
We could be more.
Happy says so.
That's what the wagging is all about.
10/18/2025,
Somewhere in Georgia airspace
— ©Copyright 2025, Christopher B. Harbin
http://www.sermonsearch.com/contributors/104427/
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