Christ, the Refugee

So here we are at Easter.  My mind is stuck on a conversation I had yesterday with a friend who is undocumented.  Tears spilled down her cheeks as she talked about losing everyone to come here with her husband and children.  Obviously someone doesn't do that unless the situation is dire.  Now her husband's father is on his death bed in Mexico, and they can't do what most of us take for granted: go home and say goodbye.

Time for a Choice

In 1999, I spent four days in Washington, DC where I lobbied for children’s mental health parity on Capitol Hill.  It was November but it fe...