Seventy years ago today, America welcomed my dad (pictured center) and his family as Palestinian Christian refugees. It was the greatest blessing of his life. Born Attallah Amash in 1940, my dad had an extremely difficult childhood. He was a victim of war, expelled from his home at just eight years old in 1948, moving from place to place to find shelter and living off scraps. He never had new clothes except what was provided to him through charity. In the few years (on and off) that he was able to attend school, the other children didn’t want to associate with him. He couldn’t even play soccer with them because he didn’t have shoes. His father made him sell coffee and tea as a young boy just to make a few cents that his dad would take. The first time my dad had a decent meal was when a family member died (an uncle, who lived and died in a dog house) and neighbors delivered food in his memory. Even before the conflict, my dad’s family lived in abject poverty. His grandma, grandpa, aunt, and uncle died of starvation under Ottoman rule. They lived in horrendous conditions among rats. They were abused, uneducated, prone to superstitions, and struggled with mental illness. The Amash family’s misfortune turned into triumph when Rev. & Mrs. Ralph Wagoner (pictured right), of the Muskegon Church of the Brethren, made the sacrifice to sponsor them to come to the United States. The incredible generosity of the Wagoners gave new life to the Amashes. I’m forever grateful to the Wagoners for making my life in America possible. I’m forever grateful to America for opening its arms to poor refugees like my dad’s family. This story is why I so dearly love our Constitution, which defends life, liberty, and property. It’s why I wanted to serve in Congress: to support, with my voice and votes, the great principles that define America. I was honored that my community here in Michigan gave me that opportunity.