I was just a little over 4 when we arrived in America, sitting on my father's lap in the kitchen of our first house that the sponsors had rented for us. It was barren and full of used and donated items, but I doubted my parents cared. It was more than they could dream for.

Richard Diggs, one of our sponsors from the church was responsible for helping our family get settled. He made a pitch at the church for donations, and was shocked to hear some people say they were not going to give to those "foreigners." But nevertheless the help our family recieved was overwhelming.

My dad said: " I knew some English so it was not a problem. The sponsors did everything possible to make our home complete from the small details like bandages and toys to clothing and a car. They came to take us to see doctors, took all of you to register for school, and took us shopping every week. They even opened up a bank account for us."

My mom was overwhelmed by the supermarket and everything that was available. The sponsors however did not know what we liked to eat so for the first few weeks we ate what they bought and cooked. I remember my parents saying how unsavory and strange the thick green pea soup was, but they could not force themselves to waste anything and throw it away.

Next to where my dad was sitting is the door to the backyard where we hung our laundry to dry. I remember one day when my dad came in the kitchen grinning from ear to ear and holding in his hands a frozen pair of jeans. It was our fist experience with Michigan winter.