All Americans have suffered since Sept. 11, 2001. We have witnessed terror up close and personal. The migrant workers I meet and minister to in South Georgia are also suffering after-effects of that horrible September day, but in a different way.

What terrorizes them isn’t foreign enemies. They fear the immigration crackdowns imposed since 9/11 by the U.S. government and the renewed prejudice against anyone with dark skin spawned by the images of the 9/11 terrorists.

Edgar is 10. He has lived in the United States for three years and had made many friends at school. Since 9/11 he doesn’t want to go to school anymore. “The kids on the bus call him a terrorist,” his mom says. “He comes home crying, ‘Mommy, those kids used to be my friends.’” He doesn’t understand.

Pablo has been in the United States for eight years. His English has improved and he works at a local factory. He and his U.S.-born wife are proud parents of a baby girl.

Pablo is awaiting permanent resident status, a process he knows may take years. He also wants to visit his ailing father in Mexico. But U.S. law prohibits immigrants from leaving the country while applying for a change in status.

Pablo had almost given up hope of seeing his father before he dies, but then he heard about the I-131 form. By submitting this form, Pablo could apply for permission to leave the United States for a short period and return with limited problems. I helped him fill it out carefully and mail it just after 9/11.

Then Pablo waited. Weeks went by and finally, after many phone calls to inquire, a response was given: “No I-131 forms are being approved or issued since 9/11.”

I recently stood with Elvia in the long line at the Atlanta immigration office for five hours for a five-minute interview. She has been waiting nine years for her permanent resident card. Now she has been informed she has to retake her physical and go through yet another background check to restart the process. “I will do whatever it takes to get my papers,” she says. And that process has become even more tedious since 9/11.

She wants to visit her hometown in Mexico, but the immigration process has deterred her hopes of a visit anytime soon. We left the immigration office without answers, but she will return to continue sifting through the red tape.

On Sept. 11, 2001, the U.S. Congress was scheduled to vote on a new program for issuing work permits to previously undocumented workers. But that legislation—along with the hopes of so many immigrants—died with the terrorist attacks.

Despite the crackdowns and increased anti-foreign sentiment, immigrants continue to cross the border from Mexico—like Jose and his friend Pedro.

Jose sat on the worn sofa in his small South Georgia trailer and slowly began to retell his experiences of the last two weeks. He had a dream to help his family of eight in Mexico survive. With little chance of finding work back home, he said his only option was to come north, across the border into the United States—on foot.

He began the journey with his best friend Pedro and several other companions. It was terribly hot. After five days of walking in the desert, their food was gone and water was in short supply.

“We met up with the coyote [a person who helps undocumented immigrants into the United States] around 12:30 p.m.,” Jose says. “Then Pedro let out a strange yell, began to shake and fell to the desert sand.”

It took a few seconds for Jose to realize his best friend was dead. “The rest of us stared at each other and wept. We had to go on, though,” he says. So, with their hands, Jose and the others dug a grave and Pedro was buried in the desert.

“I am here and my friend is out there,” Jose says as his voice trails off. “Since Pedro’s death, my head hurts. I can’t get the pain to leave. I need to tell his wife and six children that he is dead. How do I tell them?”

Immigrants like Jose, Elvia, Pablo and Edgar’s parents are but a few of the hundreds of thousands who come to the United States each year to earn money working in our fields, chicken plants and factories. Some say they are taking jobs from U.S. citizens. But their employers say that without these migrant workers they would not be able to harvest their crops, process their chickens, run their factories. Not many Americans want to work in the hot sun or under the difficult conditions in most poultry plants or low-wage factories.

I believe that immigrants continue to help make the United States’ economy strong. They pay taxes while receiving no benefits such as health insurance. They work long hours for little pay, all with the hope of aiding their family’s survival in Mexico.

Since 9/11 immigrants are living deeper in our society’s shadows. Even going to church has become dangerous for them. In many Glenmary mission areas, local authorities set up check points outside churches on Sunday mornings. Folks are asked to provide valid driver’s licenses which, in Georgia, are impossible to get without a social security number.

Our country was built on the value of welcoming the stranger. My grandparents came to this country with dreams of a better future. Our faith tells us to make room in the inn because every family is a holy family.

Can post-9/11 Americans still open our arms to the poor, the stranger? Can we still make room in the inn?

Let’s pray that we can.