We were refugees.

After one of my ancestors was tortured and murdered by fellow Christians for the crime of not having precisely the same theological convictions as them, his family, along with tens of thousands others, fled their country, leaving behind their homes and all the possessions they couldn’t easily carry.

My family made it out safely, first into Holland, then to England, and finally to Virginia.

Had they not been welcomed by strangers–had they been met instead with a wall, a fence or soldiers turning them back–I probably wouldn’t be sitting here typing this post this morning.