Open Eyes

So, long before I was even a citizen of the United States of America, I thought for sure I would register Republican when I was able to vote. I thought that it was the party that more closely aligned it’s self with my thoughts and ideas. My morals and beliefs seemed to follow suit with what they represented. Now, as we approach the first elections of my citizenship, I find myself registering Independent and going to vote for, dare I say it, a Democrat.

I was speaking to the father of a friend of mine. I’ve longed to speak to him since the last elections because my friend told me that his father wanted to “tear me a new one” because I wanted to vote for G.W.B. When that day arrived I was thrilled to explain to him the reasons why Democrats are a godless and loathing people who only want gays to marry and teen mothers to slaughter their unborn children. Before I had my chance to dismantle his devilish political views, another man got to me first. His name shall remain nameless but his impact on me has touched me more than he knows. I saw it as a chance to sharpen my weapons before I went after bigger game. I was ready for everything he was going to throw at me except for what happened.

He began our discussion by asking me why I found myself leaning Republican. I replied that it was because Republicans closely aligned their views with my religious beliefs.
He then asked, “What religion are you?”
I was excited to reply, “Mormon!!” with my return missionary mentality.

He then schooled me as to what I believed. He explained that Mormons believed the Jesus Christ was the author of a great plan, detailed to give us, as God’s children, happiness. He explained that the fundamental corner stone of this plan was that we are able to choose for ourselves right and wrong, a gift called free agency. He then explained that the other plan that was presented to God’s children was a plan forcing us to do the right thing and not allowing us the chance to choose between the right way, or the wrong way. (Mind you he was not and is not Mormon) He then said based on that fundamental belief, he was surprised that I was picking a political party that was forcing the citizens of this country to choose what I believed was right verses allowing them to choose for themselves what was right or wrong. He ended the conversation because of a phone call and left me stunned and alone with my thoughts.

I am not saying I agreed with everything he had to say, but I was shocked that I had not seen that point of view.

Simply put, he opened my eyes.

The conflict within.

Brazilian or American? This has been one of the largest questions that have haunted me during my stint here on earth. When I am in the United States of America, I am treated like a Brazilian, a foreigner. I was required to carry a greencard (that’s not even green). I spoke Portuguese at home and English when I walked out the door. I was the tannest kid in the middle of winter, and I never understood American football. I thought to myself how wonderful it would be when I returned to Brazil where I would be accepted. A land filled with wonder and excitement. An amazing place that was tropical and where people talked, walked, and sounded much like me. This was a dream that was nearly confirmed when I returned to Brazil during the nineties to obtain our greencards (yes, I came to this country illegally as an infant). However, I was young and my memories of Brazil only included my family and people that loved me regardless of my nationality. So it wasn’t until I returned to Brazil, as a lone missionary that I fully understood what it was to be Brazilian. During that time I realized a few things about myself. One, is that I have been Americanized. I didn’t understand what it was to live and be raised Brazilian. Two, I am still Brazilian. Much like Moses who was raised Egyptian but still returned to the Hebrew slaves because that was who he was, Hebrew.

Something was different and it wasn’t made apparent to me until my first day in the mission field. My first discussion was with a black man, in the middle of a favela (a ghetto), with an American hating, illiterate Osama Bin Laden loving retard. It dawned on me that as much as I loved both countries; neither countryman gave a rat’s behind about the other. That didn’t sit well with me. I loved both countries equally. I’ve always told people who’ve asked me “What country do you love more”, neither. It would be equal to asking me what brother I loved more, Daniel who was born Brazilian or Dennis who was born American. I love them equally. Each country, much like each brother, has things about them that make me proud, and things that make me sick. So it goes my journey to change the world begins with my efforts to understand myself.

This blog is going to be about my journey. When you read the things I type, you must understand the conflict that resides within me. You might read something that makes you think I hate this country, but I don’t. You may also read something that makes you think that I have forsaken my country of origin, again which is not the case. I am simply a perfect mixture of Yellow, Green, Blue, Red and White with a hint of Brown!