Every once in a while you come across a story that is so brutally honest and so well written that all you can really do is post the link, paste some prose to whet the whistle and hope for a whole lotta clicks to move the righteous words around.
This is one such story, from American Greatness:
If you climb the mountains behind our house and look south, you look into Mexico. If you climb those mountains to the top, you are on one of the major drug trafficking routes into America. If you stay in the desert at the foot of the mountains, you are in rattlesnake country—the greatest biodiversity of rattlers in America, and the night path of illegal aliens.
We are the deplorables. All of my rancher neighbors have guns. Most are Evangelicals. To Democrats and open-borders Republicans, we are throwaway people. The Other. Disposable.
All of my neighbors have had encounters with illegals. Every single family. Everyone knows dozens of families whose homes have been broken into and worse—loved ones tied up, kidnapped, threatened, shot, permanently crippled by a hit and run attack, when they made too much of a fuss to authorities.
They hear a knock on their door in the dark of night. What would you do?
The Bible says to care for the stranger. So people here do not pick up a shotgun or a pistol and noisily cock the hammer—all it would take to say, “Be on your way.” You can’t know if it is a decent soul out there, thirsty and lost, abandoned by their “coyote,” or a murderous villain. These Christian ranchers open their doors in the night. There may be someone in trouble in the desert out there, so they open their door.
Sometimes it works out just fine. More and more often, it does not.
If ever there was a post to click and read the whole thing this is it.