Here is a prayer supposedly found in the pocket of a Central American girl who died in a Mexican desert attempting to migrate into the United States. I have taken some liberties with the translation. Let it be our prayer, today.
The journey toward you, Lord, is our life. To start this journey is to die a little. To arrive is unknown; I will never arrive until I am at rest with you.
You, Lord, experienced migration. You brought it upon all men who know what it is to live; who seek safe passage to the gates of heaven. You drove Abraham, the father of faith, from his land. We have learned of the divergent paths taken to you by the prophets, the apostles and the saints. Your son became a migrant from heaven to earth.
We are all migrants. Lord, be with me on my journey. Amen.
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