William Badal

I was born in Baghdad, Iraq, in 1949, in a land known as the cradle of civilization. Iraq was rich with history, reaching back thousands of years to the ancient Assyrian and Babylonian empires. But for my family, it was also a land of uncertainty, upheaval, and change.

My father, John Badal, knew hardship early. At eighteen, he fled Iran because of persecution and came to Iraq looking for a new beginning. He found work in the oil fields with British and American companies and, through hard work and determination, rose to a position of great responsibility. By 1958, he was helping run one of the largest oil refineries in the Middle East.

That same year, Iraq's monarchy was overthrown, and the oil industry was nationalized. Revolution followed revolution. My father continued working from 1959 to 1966, helping keep the oil flowing for the new government. But as the country grew more unstable, the British and Americans warned him, "Get your sons out." It was time to seek a new future.

My mother helped shape that future. She had worked with American missionaries, learned English, and taught at a mission school in Baqubah, where many Assyrian refugees from Iran had settled after World War I. When our family considered where to go, she asked, "Where do most missionaries come from?" My father answered, "America." She said, "Then we are going to America, because America is one step away from heaven." That statement became our direction.

My brother came first in 1962 to attend Aurora College, now Aurora University. Then, on August 6, 1966, at sixteen years old, I arrived in Aurora, Illinois, to attend West Aurora High School as a private international student.

Everything was different: the language, the culture, the school, and most of all, the freedom. In Iraq, school had been rigid and limited. At West Aurora, there were academics, sports, clubs, activities, and teachers who cared. The students welcomed me. The teachers encouraged me. Even with broken English, I was given the opportunity to teach my government class for six weeks about Middle Eastern geography. It became one of the great experiences of my life.

I also learned about the United States Constitution and the three branches of government. Coming from a country marked by revolutions and instability, this amazed me. America was not perfect, but it was built on ideas that gave people freedom, order, voice, and hope.

Because I was on a student visa, I could work fifteen hours a week during school and forty hours a week in the summer. I washed dishes in the school cafeteria, and the job included a free lunch. To me, that was a blessing. I was not afraid of work. I was thankful for opportunity.

Again and again, people helped me. The school assigned a counselor to meet with me weekly. Friends' parents took me to museums, Springfield, and other places where I could learn about America. People helped me find jobs, gave me rides, and opened doors. Holidays were unforgettable. Fourth of July parades amazed me. Veterans Day and Memorial Day taught me about sacrifice. Thanksgiving was new to me. Christmas filled me with wonder. Everything felt meaningful and alive. My mother was right. America truly felt one step away from heaven.

After graduation, I worked for a grocery chain, later bought my own store, and eventually built 5B's Catering. I also served twenty-three years as a pastor at First Baptist Church in Sycamore. In 1970, I married Michele, and together we had three boys. Through family, work, church, and community, America became not just the country I moved to, but the country I belonged to.

On July 4, 1976, America's Bicentennial, my story came full circle. In Chicago, Illinois, on the day this nation celebrated two hundred years of independence, I became a citizen of the United States. A boy from Baghdad, who arrived with broken English and a suitcase full of dreams, could finally say, "This is my country."

America has meant freedom of speech, freedom of worship, prosperity, opportunity, hard work, and the chance to become all that God allows you to become. It is a place where a sixteen-year-old boy from Baghdad could become a husband, father, businessman, pastor, and grateful citizen.

America, thank you for opening your arms to me. Thank you for giving me a home. May God always bless the United States of America.