American Passport

When I was very young, my mother told me to stick to my passport. She said an American passport was one of the most valuable assets I would ever own. At that young age, my sheltered life would be challenged by news of the Libyan hostage crisis and the Iran Contra affair. Germans brought down the wall in Berlin. Russia was still an enemy memorialized in a Sting song I recorded off the radio. If the Russians love their children too, he sang, we just might avoid a nuclear war. These were the current events of my childhood.

I came to understand that not all nations were nations of freedom, and I heeded my mother’s advice. When I acquired my first passport, at the age of 29, I used it to begin exploring the bigger world around me.

To study: a trip to Greece, coordinated by the University of Thessaloniki law school. A chance to see the Acropolis in Athens and stand at the birthplace of democracy. It was a truly humbling experience to stand where people have stood for millennia, creating and philosophizing and teaching ideas I would learn thousands of miles away, in America, hundreds of years later.

For refuge: a trip to Australia, to meet up with my mother and recover from a bitter divorce and an angry ex-husband. I stood on the beaches of Mooloolaba at dawn every morning and watched the ocean waves crash over the surfers, soothing my tattered soul. I sat in the house of Parliament in Canberra and listened while they governed the Australian people, and I marveled at their fierce independence while remaining loyal to the British crown. I learned that the Australians looked back on our bloody Revolutionary War, choosing a union with Britain while securing their own version of freedom. I became aware how hard-fought American freedom is perceived even in the farthest reaches of the world.

For love: trips to Aruba, Jamaica, the Bahamas, and the Dominican Republic with my husband, surrounded by sun and sand and the opportunity to bask in our marriage.

And from each destination, a stamp in my passport and the unwavering knowledge that I would be able to return home, and what’s more, would be welcomed by my country with arms open wide.

Never did I fear a hostile turnover of government in my home country in my absence. Not once did I worry that I might be scooped up abroad as an intruder on foreign soil. Nor did it cross my mind that I might have anything but safe passage. I stuck to my passport, as my mother taught me, and rested comfortably knowing my being an American would always guide me home.

It’s not knowledge that I take for granted. Watching what happens as Russia invades Ukraine is a sobering reminder of the freedom I have at home. What is my duty, knowing in another corner of the world, men, women, and children huddle in basements hoping the next round of shelling doesn’t come? How do I best effect change in countries where women are oppressed, children are starved, or citizens are beaten on the basis of their skin or their religion?

The answers don’t come easy, and change doesn’t come quickly. But my experiences with struggles at home have taught me a few things.

First, in a disaster, my financial resources are welcomed by organizations whose boots are already on the ground. Sending random supplies into a disaster area is like lighting a fire with a wet blanket. Organizations allocate funds, coordinate volunteers and supplies, and are best equipped to identify need.

Second, I need to research the organizations I’m considering supporting. Some organizations have lovely mission statements, but a scant few cents per dollar go to the cause. I look for organizations that have the biggest portion of every dollar actually going to relief.

Third, I am worthy of grace if I can’t accomplish all I want to. To support one cause is not to neglect another. To that one person I help, that support makes a difference.

And last, I should always take a moment of gratitude for my American freedom. But for my ability to live in peace in my country, I might not have the ability to help ease the suffering of others.

Our freedom has been hard-won, hard-defended, and hard-protected from threats both foreign and domestic. Hang onto that American passport. It is freedom like no other.