Antonio came to see me a few weeks ago. He was born and raised in Aguas Calientes, Mexico. Grew up, raised a family, and ran a printing business there. One day, back in the 90s, he went to bed one night and when he woke up, the peso was worth 3 times less than it had been the day before. Everything cost three times as much, but pay did not increase at all. His business went bust. He picked up and moved to Elkhart, finding work in one of the many RV-related businesses here.
When he walked in our church, he was 63, and his plant had joined many others in closing their doors. Once again, he watches as the bottom drops out of his life. Antonio came to see if we had a Spanish Bible. We talked for a long time, his great Spanish and broken English, my Hoosier English and pitiful Spanish. We managed to connect. He wanted a Bible and a job, in that order. Not a hand out. He needs money desperately, but won't take anything. He wants to learn English, but wants work most of all. At 63, with little English, even his printing and computer skills don't mean a lot.
I want to help Antonio. Antonio helps me with my Spanish. I'm afraid all I have had to offer him was the Bible, some supper one night, and a warm welcome. I can't fix the economy.
Whenever I hear someone make a disparaging comment about Hispanics, or 'those Mexicans,' I cringe and think of Antonio. He doesn't give up, you see. He calls. He comes back. He checks in. Though he worked in an office in Mexico, hear he has only known hard factory work. At 63, most US Americans contemplate retirement. Antonio wants to learn English and work.
I hope, when I am 63, I am still so hopeful, still stretching my mind around new things, still able to get around and long to give what I can to the world. Antonio is my inspiration. I haven't helped him all that much. But Antonio, he has helped me.
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