If I take the words of an ancient poet to heart, I'm going to hell.

I might as well pack my bags right away because I basically live my life in a way that Dante would not approve.

Dante Alighieri, a noble man who lived in Italy in the 1200s wrote words that resonate in me some 800 years later.

To quote, "The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain neutrality in times of moral crisis."

OK, Mr. Alighieri, you got me pegged. Analytical by nature, I've never been one to make quick decisions or take sides. Heck, choices and offering up opinions have always been my character weaknesses.

I often find comfort in neutrality. I've honed the skill of observing situations from all perspectives. But closing the deal, taking a side . . . I'm helpless.

So, what is the moral crisis of what I speak? In one word: Immigration.

In two words: Illegal immigration.

Once upon a time, it was a trickle of an issue. Today it is a tidal wave of uncertainty. Our political leaders on the national stage, and those who occupy the seats of city councils or state governments are all, in one degree or another, avoiding the moral crisis that is immigration in this country.

I focus on a dead poet's quote because I came face to face with the "crisis" just two months ago in southern California. It began when one of my best friends was bribed into coming to my house to help us make a big batch of homemade tamales.

Nancy grew up in Mazatlan, where her parents owned and operated a tortilla factory. She also learned to make the best tamales in the world and her services were needed just a week before Christmas.

Nancy agreed to spend a day with us, having first giving us specific tamale ingredients to buy and prepare in advance. The morning she was to drive down to our house from Riverside, she called to ask if I would go with her to visit her niece who had just moved to Escondido.

I said yes, of course, doing anything with Nancy was a good time, even taking a long freeway drive to visit with strangers.

On the trip down, my friend, who became an American citizen by "waiting in line," studying and taking an oath in downtown Los Angeles, explained the plight of her 19-year old niece. A young mother of a 2-year-old boy and a weeks-old baby girl, the niece was living with her husband in a three-bedroom apartment on Escondido's east side.

Their host was the man and his family who snuck them over the U.S.- Mexican boarder right before the baby girl was born. They owed more than $7,000 for their passage and would be paying their host rent to live in his apartment with his family.

Currently, the little family is unemployed, since jobs on construction sites are scarce.

Nancy was excited and worried. So was I. Not so much out of fear for my safely, but rather that I'd recently started to take a stronger position on the issue of illegal immigration: Mexicans and other foreigners need to wait in line. Coming to our country requires an invitation and then allegiance.

Yet, as we entered the neat apartment that sheltered my friend's young family, the inevitable happened. I held a newborn, chatted with a toddler and in my own broken Spanish and got to know illegal immigrants on a personal level. They were trying to better their lot in life.

Migrating to the north meant a better chance for survival. I understand that. Throughout time people have done just that.

It would be simple to say that I held a newborn in my arms and fell in love. I wish I could be stronger in my convictions. I met this beautiful little family and now am solidly back on the fence. Dante must be rolling over in his mausoleum.