Fresh Air for Elizabeth

A Winnipeg church has given refuge to a family whom Canada Immigration is determined to tear apart. So far, bureaucracy has not invaded the sanctuary of this place. In these most adverse circumstances, living without fresh air and sunshine, a little girl discovers her gift for music.

Canada, a Place of Refuge

The first time I saw Elizabeth, she was full of mischief, horsing around with a friend while all the grown-ups were huddled around her family, praying for their safety. She appeared to be oblivious to the danger which was threatening to tear her family apart. Living in the sanctuary of the church basement and not having to go to school appeared to be a novelty at the time. Now, a month later, the gravity of the situation seems to have dawned on Elizabeth's seven-year-old mind.

On Canada's 132nd birthday, July 1, 1999, Mission Baptist Church celebrated the 50th anniversary of her founding. In the 50th year, the year of jubilee, the prisoners are set free according to the law instituted in the book of Joshua. In this year of her jubilee, this church has given sanctuary to a family which Canadian bureaucracy is determined to destroy.

A child needs fresh air and sunshine. In the last month, Elizabeth has only had brief glances of these through the glass door of the front door of the church. Being away from school is no longer fun for her, especially when she is confined to one single building. Even criminals in the penitentiary are allowed fresh air and sunshine. Elizabeth is no criminal. She is a little girl, born in Miami, Florida, to parents who were seeking refuge from certain imprisonment and probable death. Canada had promised to give this family the refuge which the United States was reluctant to grant. That promise seems to have been forgotten.

Memories of 1945

Bombers could be heard overhead every night and even in the daytime. No one paid attention to the warning sirens any more. They seemed to be going off all the time. A 9-year-old cannot sit in a bomb shelter day after day, night after night. I needed fresh air. I needed to roam through the fields. We had just arrived in the city of Danzig. There were so many new places to explore. And this bomb shelter seemed to be getting smaller by the hour.

The moment the door opened, I was gone. My mother did not stop me. I explored the nearby field and collected pieces of shrapnel, except that I had no idea what these curiously formed metal objects were. They looked fascinating, each one having a different shape. Their jagged edges could have cut my fingers. I was careful.

The copyright of the article Fresh Air for Elizabeth in Natural Health is owned by Traute Klein, biogardener. Permission to republish Fresh Air for Elizabeth in print or online must be granted by the author in writing.

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