Hope and Reality: a Struggle of the Liberian Dream

As I was flying across the huge expanse of ocean to our Great Land of Opportunity, God placed me in the midst of two Liberian gentlemen; one was a boy of 6 years and the other was ‘old poppy’, as the little boy called him. The child snuggled beside me, while the old man sat across the isle.

The small boy looked me in the eye, and smiled. He picked up his paper sack from under the seat and cheerfully pulled out a coloring book that some one had given him. He threw a quick glance at me, and smiled again.

“Where are your Mommy and Daddy?”
“Daddy is in Liberia; and I am going to America for the first time to see my Mommy.”
”All alone?” I asked.
“Yep!”

A little later I greeted the old pa across the isle, “Hello, Sir.”
“Hello,” he replied.
“Where are you from?” I inquired.
“From Liberia, but I have been living in the United States for a very long time.”

After conversing with him for awhile, he said to me. “Let me share my heart, why I feel the way I do.”  He handed me his autobiography that he had been writing about his life, and about his Beloved Liberia. It was filled with poetry, photos, and soul cries. I read it from cover to cover, and wept.

I understood a little of his agony, his hopes and his dreams, for I too have lived in Liberia as a child and as an adult. I am not a Liberian, but I am an American who cares. I have seen Liberia’s good old days and have suffered through a slice of its war.  Now I am experiencing Liberia in the present and can see the hope, but I also know reality—-the everyday struggle of the Liberian people to see their dreams come true. I weep with them, and God gives them Hope.

Add comment March 5th, 2009