Halfway across the bridge - Feb 27, 2020

Sitting inside one of the thin, nylon tents in the camp, I could hear the wind whipping by, coursing through the rows of tents, causing the metal poles holding the outer circus-like tent shade above to shake and shiver, emitting metallic clangs, and spooky resonance. The occasional metal clasp raps against the metal pole, thrown about by the wind, and making me wonder how sturdy the massive outer structure is. 

It's the middle of the day and I've gone into our supply tent, camouflaged in a sea of other bright green Colman camping tents. We are running out of masa (corn flour), so I came into the supply tent where we mostly store the tables we use each day to see if we had left any masa behind on another day. As I was searching through supplies, fear began to creep in and surround me in the tent. The noise of the crowd was amplified, from what I knew was a quiet murmur between companions, transformed into a mythically loud, scary, raucous roar of an uncontrolled riot. 

Though I was only 20 ft from my team, I realized I was all alone and vulnerable. Someone easily could have come into the tent, and my voice would have been silent, muffled by the wind. I started to feel the many scary things that must creep into the tents as darkness falls, scary realities, amplified by the  imagination. 

Each day we've been to the camp has been dramatically different from the next. The first day was dusty and dry, the next was cold and windy. Then we had rain for a day or two, then blindingly got sun. Today was windy and cool, bullying it’s way through the camp, sending the empty cups waiting to be filled with chocolate milk onto the ground, still empty and now dirty. During these two weeks of February, I’ve worn sweaters and coats and sweated through short sleeve shirts. It’s been so hard to keep up with, I can’t imagine how volatile the seasons are for people in tents. 

Today was also filled with uncertainty about reentry. Through a series of circumstances (Ash Wednesday mass and running an errand for a team member), my sister and I got to the center later than usual. The team for Mexico left only fifteen minutes before and they needed more cart-pullers. So were high-tailed it back to the car and tried to catch up, arriving just as the carts were full and ready to depart. Happy to have two young “pullers” join the ranks, we joined the cheering group and headed off to pay our dollar to cross the bridge. 

Halfway across the bridge to Mexico, while relaying my exciting adventure to another participant, I realized I left my passport in the car! I was stuck between two countries with a car full of food for Mexico! Luckily the bridge guard had seen me each day and kindly bent the rules, allowing me to return (definitely not allowed on the one-way bridge). I sprinted to the car, sprinted back, prepared to pay my dollar again but was welcomed in instead, and caught up with the team. My ashes were now bathed in sweat from running, but the coolness of the air was gone. I can’t say that i was scared at any point, but looking back, I should have been. 

On the return journey, halfway across the other bridge, one of our Canadian teammates was stopped and forced to wait in the very long line of non-US passport holders. Last week, there was the threat that this might happen, and today it did. 

I must confess. I have neglected to tell you something, friends. Every day, when we return to the US, there is a long line, going at least halfway across the bridge, sometimes as long as the whole bridge, filled with Mexican citizens waiting to enter the US. You see, there are two lines. One for US passport holders and registered SENTRI card holders (a line that never had more than 2 people in it), and a line with hundreds of people that can take 4 or 5 hours to get through. Every day, our team walks by hundreds of people to the front of the line, with our empty carts in tow. It must be so frustrating for the people to watch this, and I feel so filled with the opposite of patriotism. I feel shamed and privileged. I rationalize that we probably wouldn’t be able to go across each day if there were a 4 hour wait,  but it’s one of the hardest parts of the day. 

Today, our teammate, who didn’t have a US passport but instead a Canadian one was forced to experience the “long line”, while her driver and carmates waited patiently in the US “witnessing” on the street corner. Luckily, she speaks Spanish and was able to learn what the others stood in line so long. They went to the US to shop for a few hours. And they did this a few times a week! Can you imagine the patience or necessity to do this so often! Our teammates made friends in line and once out of the eyesight of the one bully agent, she was able to move through faster, to exercise her privilege because of the kindness of strangers. 

It was a strange day, needless to say, and with the trip ending in a few short days, my emotions are getting heavy. It’s so hard to leave when there’s work to be done, and harder to leave such a dedicated team of friends and family. Tonight, as I lay in bed writing this, I imagine myself inside the tent and the fear that I felt, that I knew wasn’t real at the time, but it is very real tonight for many . 

Seeing deeper and sleeping at night - Feb 24, 2020

A week has passed, a few people have joined our group, and a few have already left. We have settled into a routine, leaving the house around 8am to head to the center where some of our team will drive an hour to the border to distribute food and toiletries and some of our team will stay at the center with the people who were welcomed into the country, preparing and serving meals for them, helping them find a change of clothes, organizing the closet of clothes so it’s ready in case a big rush comes, preparing bags of food to distribute at the border, and cleaning the center. 

The center has a very empowering approach to volunteering. The pace is very self-guided, and if you don’t know what needs to be done, you might think there’s no work to do. As veterans, with a whole week behind us, we’ve learned not to wait to be asked to do something, just to jump right in. Often, the people livingu at the center can be seen helping as well: sweeping the huge shared living area and preparing bags of food to send over (perhaps having experienced how helpful those supplies are). 

In the camps, we have been able to bring chocolate milk a few times and see the grins on the kids faces as they come back for a second or third cup. Meanwhile, the parents wait patiently in a line by the food while diapers and toiletries are distributed next. The calm about the place is incredible. In a camp that has over 2,500 people, you’d expect a table with only 60 bags of food to be pilfered and overrun, but no one touched the food, or even tried, day after day, patiently waiting for the distribution. People walk right by getting their milk and toiletries, and not one person attempts to take a bag, instilling so much confidence that none of the volunteers are even watching the food. 

I read one article that described the Tents in the camp like “barnacles” on the tip of Matamoros. Another article helped me realize what I find so confounding about the camp - the quiet. It described: For a group of people who love music so much, all you hear is quiet chatter in tents. I think I find the calm exhibited in the line similarly perplexing. Articles have reported gang activity in the nights, many cases of rape, kidnapping, trafficking, and “disappearings”, but that seems like a different place than the calm of the day, or perhaps it explains it. For families who are on the run for their lives to escape this kind of violence, it seems unconscionable that the government is making this situation worse. 

But we leave each day after the food is distributed and look the government officials in the eye as we return to the US, hoping there will be no problems. We drive back to the center to prepare for tomorrow’s run so it can all begin again. 

At the end of the day, some days as early as 3pm, some days as late as 5pm, we drive the 10 min from the center back to the AirBnB that we rented in a ranch-style house in the middle of suburbia. We all stay together in one house, to enjoy community time in the evenings, a shared meal and prayer. 

Our team is comprised of five sisters of the Congregation of Notre Dame (from Toronto, NY, Montreal, and PEI), two people from North Carolina, one from PEI, and three from nearby San Antonio (my mom, sister, and 8-year old niece). 

My mom joined us the first week, and graciously prepared a dozen meals ahead of time, so our evening meal preparation is simple. She spoiled us with enchiladas, lasagna, rice casseroles, and a special seafood extravaganza, culminating in a homemade cheesecake for the shared birthday celebration! She left, but we continue to enjoy her hospitality. 

A week into our trip, my sister and niece drove down from San Antonio to join us, and a day later my mom and niece left. During the 21 hours she was here, my sweet 8-year old niece played pool (billiards) with some of the sisters in the lounge part of the house, volunteered at the center, spending hours bagging food and practicing her writing skills labeling bags, and took a break to go dress shopping for her upcoming first communion. We really maximized our day together, spending our last hour at a local skee-ball, pizza party locale to celebrate my upcoming birthday. As mom and Layla waited for the bus to San Antonio, part of our team came bustling in for one last hug. The bus departed and those of us left returned to work after a very busy 24 hours. 

In the evenings at the house, you might see one of us occupying the ongoing scrabble game that started when I was at the novitiate and never seems to end, someone playing the guitar or ukuleles, someone taking advantage of the washing machine and doing laundry, or a happy soul enjoying a bowl of ice cream. We are pretty tired when we get home, but there is chatter for hours until the grand silence when people head to bed around 9pm, preparing for the noise to start again the next morning around 6am. 

Sharing a house has been a wonderful experience, especially participating in prayer each night, led by a different person each with their own style if giving thanks for the joys of the day, and centering ya in our purpose for being here. We’ve also discovered our rendition of Dona Nobis Pacem in parts and rounds could put us on the map if thus volunteering thing doesn’t wasn’t work out. 

As comfortable and grateful as we all are to have a lovely, safe place to sleep each night, the people we serve are never far from our thoughts, sleeping in tents on the ground, scared for their security amid the “disappearings” and gang activity not seen during the day. It is unsettling to think about the hardships they are experiencing, hoping for a better life, especially while we go about our evenings together. 

We are here for the anniversary of MPP  - the policy that made it legal to keeping people from specific countries out of the USA. 60,000 people have been excluded this way, in the hopes that they return to their country rather than live in the camps. Many families have left the camps, and more still have been deported after an unsuccessful asylum hearing. It has been reported that many of the people who return (voluntarily or not) are killed by the gangs they were fleeing. Bringing 60 families meals each day in a camp that has at least a thousand people is not enough. We as a people need to do more. 

Making a Better Life - Feb 23 2020

From guest contributer Sister Maco Cassetta

“Be doers of the word and not bearers only...  Those who peer into the perfect law of freedom and persevere, and are not hearers who forget but doers who act, such as they shall be blessed in what they do…  Care for orphans and widows in their affliction and keep oneself unstained by the world.” Saint James 1:19-27 

Since our arrival a few days ago, I was pleasantly surprised by this reading that came up in prayer on one of my days in McAllen, TX.  Yet, as one of the doers, the blessing received is the realization of my place of privilege since my situation is far from what I witnessed.  For one full day, eleven of us including a child in our midst (Lindsey's daughter and Libby’s niece, Layla) gathered at the Respite Center in McAllen as our completed team to be doers of action.  Some of us made our way to cross the border to support the families who are waiting in tents before being processed to cross over, while the remaining of us have helped feed and clothe the migrants who arrived at the center for support.  We have sorted clothes, packaged food and supplies, and made meals. Most importantly, we have been taking some time to be a presence, to play with the children and rock babies to sleep.

Many of the families that I have met to date come from Central America, the Congo, Brazil, and Haiti. I was even able to put my French to use to communicate with some of the families.  While all of us have come from different parts of North America, the “doers” and “blessed” are the men, women and children who have risked their lives to leave their homeland so they can begin anew.  I am reminded of my parents who left Venezuela, via Italy, with two babies, myself and my sister, to make our way to Canada for a better life.  In those days, migrants’ actions and desires were no different than what I witness today except it is more difficult to be accepted and encouraged to start anew.  Like then, it took courage to leave one’s homeland behind and risk displacement for the sake of many blessings.  As a nation of privilege, my hope is that we become more welcoming and encouraging without blocking migrants from their deep desires to act and make a better life for themselves…  

Return to the Border - Feb 17, 2020

This blog begins our next epic journey. This particular camino is to the southern tip of Texas, to meet the people who live in tents between the US and Mexico. Their temporary home is a make-shift camp, as they await their court date to see if they will be granted asylum. 

Last year, a group of us went to El Paso, at a time when 1000 people were being released  from US government custody each day. Our aim to help the travelers find their way to their sponsoring family members across the country. We spent the two weeks organizing which guests will stay in which room, (as the turnover was constant), who is headed to the airport at which time (and showing them the ins and outs of the airport terminals), and trying to meet the needs of the people who are waiting for their bus ride or flight (it could be days or even weeks). Last year was spent helping huge volumes of refugees and asylum seekers. 

This year, a 15 hour drive further south in Texas, the political landscape has changed, requiring asylum seekers to wait outside of the US for their court hearing. A team goes across the border into Mexico each day with basic food supplies in zip lock bags filled with: corn meal, beans, sugar, coffee, salt, oatmeal, and a water bottle refilled with cooking oil. 

The journey to the people begins an hour away, where the bags are prepared (filled from larger volumes of supplies). Then there is an hour's drive, parking near the border, filling 8 beach carts with 60 portions of each item, and then we wal. First we pass through a toll booth that requires exactly 4 quarters. Then we cross over a wall, the Rio Grande River, and a checkpoint into Mexico. After they inspect our goods, we cross a street that feels like a parking lot, filled with cars waiting to get into the US. 

Immediately you can see the tents in the distance. The tents are all covered with plastic bags, because the dust is constant. (I have a false tan, composed of dust). The outside temperature is in the 80's (in February), so I can only imagine how hot it is inside the tent and plastic covering. 

We walk then length of the camp to the opening, whose mouth seems to be a few city blocks away, then back that same distance to a known gathering space. Through all of the up and down slopes, we pull the hefty carts, filled with precious cargo. 

Children appear once we enter to encampment and help push the loads from the back, hoping we have chocolate milk with us (which sadly we didn’t). We pass latrines and clothes washing stations, clean water supplies and tents turned churches. There is a barber and a hair-dresser busy at work, their salon open to the sky, sitting on the concrete steps. There are tents everywhere. If you didn’t know better, you’d think this could be camp for the summer. Clothes hang on the line. Adobe stoves are made out of mud. There are piles of sticks nearby, fuel to the cook the food. And there are children - everywhere there are smiling faces, giggles, and eyes filled with curiosity. It seems the surprise of what might be in the carts is too exciting to miss. 

The camp has 4 distinct sides: concrete Mexican streets, the parking lot of cars headed to the US and on two sides the Rio Grande, with the wall and the US beyond. 

I have no more impressions to share as I was so overwhelmed by the familiarity of what could be a summer camp and yet the surreal-ness that this isn’t a fun vacation, it’s a semi-permanent home, where many people have been living in for over four months. 

I never felt unsafe, and wondered where these supposed ruffians (according to one side of the political spectrum) that we keep hearing about must be. I saw a very calm group of people, patiently waiting, trying to survive for their day in court. 

After distributing the food, one sweet six-year old girl launched herself into my arms, gave me a bear hug, removed my sunglasses to inspect the color of my eyes, and delicately replaced the glasses with precision. She smiled and ran off, leaving me  filled with a fantastic fuel for the walk back to the car and hour’s drive home.  

Today our team was 6 people, and tomorrow we grow by 3. We hope to bring you different impressions of our journey over the next two weeks. Via con Dios!

Final moments from the border

During our last hours in El Paso, we visited the border that so many people struggled to make their way across. It was hard to smile, but definitely an important moment. The juxtaposition of the American flag that normally brings a patriotic swell in my heart with the barbed wire and chains was truly haunting. We hunted for a spot to get to really see the existing wall, and at one point, there were charming houses on the US side, then a highway, train tracks, the Rio Grande, and finally Mexico. 

We continued to hunt to find the part of the wall that we are used to seeing, with slats, and when we eventually found it, we all had an unsettling feeling that we were too close. It was menacing and scary, even to me with all my paperwork, clearly on American soil, very legally in the country. I can't imagine the unease that the undocumented people live with daily, if this border could effect me so hugely. Also - I want to clearly distinguish that the people we worked with are not undocumented, they are part of the "system", many self-surrendering. 

The process, as I understand it, is that people take a bus or flight across Mexico, then either cross at an official border crossing (more rare) or walk through the desert (again, many looking for someone to surrender to). Then they remain in border control detention centers, only because border patrol isn't equipped with an appropriate place to house them until they can go through the official asylum process with ICE (Immigration Control and Enforcement). The people we spoke with called the border patrol holding centers "Ice Boxes" because of the menacing conditions, and almost everyone told us they stayed at 3 different sites until they were delivered to us. That is likely because the border is very big, so it takes a few centers to get them over to where ICE can process them, but we really aren't sure. 

Because ICE cannot continue to house so many people, the families are released, 300-500 a day in the El Paso sector alone. The single men stay in holding until their court case, some for years. The ICE processing is when they get the ankle monitoring bracelets (we think), all of their information is taken down, passports and birth certificates confiscated, their sponsor is called once to confirm they are in fact the person's sponsor (often in the middle of the night and they only have one chance to answer), and the asylum seekers are given an appointment at an ICE center to report to closer to their sponsor's home (most appointments are within a week). 

Then they (300-500 people each day) come to us and stay at an Annunciation House site until their family can buy them a ticket, and we can get them to the airport or bus station. Then when they reach their families, with their ankle bracelet, they report to the ICE center on the assigned day, and may have their ankle monitor removed (though we are not sure). They are put into the court system which usually takes between 1 and 3 years for their case to come to court, where they provide proof of a need for asylum. Unfortunately the rate of successfully proving their life is in danger is small - maybe 10%, but until then, they may be able to find work to send money home before they are deported. Some people arrive at our sites with a deportation warrant already attached to their documentation, but it's unclear when that is implemented. 

This is a dry, fairly pedantic account, but I wanted to record it as it's taken two weeks to figure it out. A bit about my last day has more "feeling" words though:

My last day as shift coordinator (for the 7am-10pm shift) was tough, both emotionally and physically as I am very near "too tired", but I was glad to be able to help train the people who will be replacing me. It was a "final push" of exertion, fueled by the knowledge that the other volunteers were staying on and I was leaving. After receiving 45 more guests, Maco Cathy and I were able to escape for a quick supper together, a community moment, before I went back to work and they went off to pack. 

This morning, we filled in here and there, trying not to get ducked into the problems, happy to train the 3 replacements who came from Vermont, and brought a family with us to the airport for one last transfer. After we went to the border and saw El Paso from a high overlook, Maco took us through the airport that she probably spent more time in than the first hotel. We connected with many volunteers and families we knew who were in the airport, and spotted an additional woman with a baby, clearly a refugee too. She boarded the plane with us and we said goodbye to this exhausting, wonderful, important experience. 

I learned a few things. First - no matter how many urgent tasks there are to be done, none are more important than the people you are doing them for. While I already forget the dozens of phone calls, hundreds of room assignments, and infinite infitessimal tasks, I do remember dropping to my knees to play peek-a-boo with a little kid in the hallway, a silly, unexpected act that made the dozen people waiting in line smile and relax a little, too. Getting to hold a baby while the mama was on the phone with her loved one. Being recognized in the airport as a familiar face. Laughing through a strained conversation about "belts or maybe they meant a diaper, oh wait they just want more toilet paper!" I noticed this in Kenya, and was able to really put it into practice here: not to let the people see me rush and instead smile, play, and comfort. Our actions and manner in carrying out those actions truly say more than our words or intentions possibly can. Our community has a name for this - "visitation moments" as when Mary and Elizabeth met together, sharing the excitement of their pregnancies. (I am nearly certain peek-a-boo was around in 3 BC Isreal.)

Next - my body is 10 years older than it was when I went to Kenya, and realistically, I could not maintain the same energy level as I did ten years ago. I have so much more respect for my "elders" who kept nearly the same schedule and were decades older than me!

Finally - I realized my interactions with some people were different, purely because I am a Sister, a monjita. For some people, that gave comfort. For others, (mostly the volunteers) they cleaned up their language and were shocked if a harsh word or mocking statement escaped my lips. Moreso, I saw how the other sisters had 'nearly' the same schedule, but they took breaks, naps, and ended early or started late. It's not to say they did less, but they definitely went "gentler" than I did. I find I am an "all-in" kind of person, and I think that last year, I was supposed to shed much of that manic commitment and find a better balance, but clearly I need this second year to put that into practice. It's hard!! 

When the need is there, I want to respond, especially because the other volunteers were so much fun to be around, but looking back, a better balance could have been beneficial. I am not sure it would have happened though, because I did spend more time "hanging" and trouble shooting in the office than I did "chilling" with Maco and Cathy in our room. As it was, I slept with the pb&j and medicines so my crazy hours wouldn't disturb them (at my insistence, not theirs). I found friends in the office, and had a lot of fun trouble-shooting with them. Realistically, if they were boring, I probably would have taken more breaks and worked shorter shifts. 

Perhaps this will be a life-long struggle to find balance between my enneagram 3-ness and need for contemplation. (Though come on, how much contemplation can there be when 3 of us shared a room???). 

I leave El Paso with many new friends, a better understanding the motivations of people, a bit more Spanish, and areas for personal growth. I am touched by the number of you who reached out and prayed with us, journeyed with us through these blogs, and sent messages of your presence. Hopefully we can all continue to make this world a bit better, one interaction & "visitation" at a time. 

Operation: ready, go

Moving into the operations side of refugee hotel hospitality has been energizing, and yet exhausting in a way that my brain is tired, but my body less so. Since coming to the hotel, my shift has been at least 16 hours long each day, and I find it invigorating in a way that I want to be the first one in and the last to leave, walking 3 doors down to my room at night and crashing into bed - a room that doubles as the medical unit and contains the PB&J sandwiches, so my nose is filled with peanut butter and each breath with the air shared by all the sick people in the hotel. And the funny part is that both of those things just make me smile, as I am surrounded by two aspects of hospitality we can offer to a very tired, hungry, and ill people.

There has been a necessity for adaptions, being in a new city. For example, the local bus station, only a 15 min drive, is staffed between the hours of 7am-1pm and 6pm-10pm, unless the system is down or they can't find someone to work the shift, in which case the office is closed. It resides in a gas station... "Chuckies" to be precise. Our guests need tickets to ride the bus - seems like an obvious thing, but because of the way their sponsors buy the tickets, the multiple last names of people and character limitation on the ticket, e-tickets are nearly impossible, so we rely on a printed ticket, which we cannot obtain between the hours of 1pm and 6pm, when our most popular bus goes by. It makes it tricky to say the least, and we didn't know how good we had it last week, just having to deal with getting people to the station. It has worked out only because of the amazing support of the Las Cruces community and drivers who drop everything to go to the bus terminal in Las Cruces, or an hour away in El Paso. One volunteer even drove all the way to Deming to try to catch up to a bus that departed and wouldn't let our client on because she did not have a printed ticket. Oh - and the closest airport is an hour away. That's fun!!

So needless to say, adaptations and ingenuity have been essential. What makes this so fun is the staff. 

This year's marks 10 years since I started going to Kenya, and being here with a familiar tired feeling in every cell of my body and yet complete satisfaction and joy, it all just seems like an appropriate way to mark my 10 year life changing moment. Ten years ago, I decided to quit my job as a systems engineer working on satellites and move to Canada, to take a break for a year and devote time to helping the people of Mikinduri Kenya, somehow, and take a breathe to find myself. It was the start of my journey, my first experience of 'community', mission, and complete joyful purpose. I remember crying so hard on the way home, devastsd to leave the group. 

While these 2 weeks weren't as intense as Kenya, there has been a familiar communal sense of purpose, drive, and love to serve the people who come to us, true visitation moments. I am grateful for my experiences with operations of satellites in space, medical clinics in Kenya, and hotel refugee hospitality in the southwest US, and I have to smile at the similarities, mostly the love and drive of the people that serve together. 

We have welcomed 200 people into the 26 rooms over the last 4 days, and that means also getting 200 people to an airport or a bus station, feeding them, providing toiletry welcome bags, travel bags with food, meals in between, and the whole process of registration. It has been all-encompassing. 

I won't get into too many stories, but here are some updates we learned about the treatment of the people before they come to us. One day, a woman and her 7 month old infant arrived from the bus and was immediately whisked away to the ER by one of our drivers because her baby had a fever - 103.6  according to the hospital, and he has been admitted for the last few days. (And the guards knew the baby was ill but did nothing for him on the 1 hour drive here). A child came with a burn on his face from the cold of the air conditioning in the holding centers - actually burned like frost nip you'd see way up north. We are told that the cold undercooked burritos were provided for adults, and children are given animal crackers and juice 3 times a day. They describe the feeling of longterm starvation, and being taunted as in one instance, an obese guard sat in front of the children eating a hamburger "at them" - the children! I could go on but don't need to. 

Some fun stories to leave you with, as it seems to be a constant paradox here - the interplay of suffering and laughter. One day, Sister Cathy asked if there was an extra person to help her in clothing. As much as we wanted to give her support, there was no one available. The next thing I know, there is a bilingual woman in Cathy's room - a friend of a friend that she made here in Las Cruces! Only Cathy could be so resourceful! 

A second story - as the people were getting off the bus (and we were quickly responding to the sick baby), one of the women asked about my cross and I could her them whispering something about "religioso hermana" and I confirmed it. Later on, one of the volunteers heard someone tell their family member on the phone that they were in a lovely place with the "little sisters" - "monjita". 

It has been an emotion time, with lumps in my throat and an emptiness in my chest, to see some people so overwhelmed with finally talking to their family member, hearing about the cruel conditions before they came to us, and hugs goodbye as they head off for their new lives. It will be hard to leave in just 36 hours and I dread my last day - tomorrow, hoping the shift will never end. Luckily, it begins in 5.5 hours so I should rest before the fun begins again and hopefully we welcome a new crew of people on a rest stop to their new home. 

The nature of our border experience

I am excited to offer you another perspective from the border. Tonight, our guest blogger (and my novitiate director) Sister Maco, CND reflects on the nature of our experience:

Today, here at the border, I was invited by Libby to be a guest blogger. To be perfectly honest, Libby's reflections of the many experiences at the border have given you all a great overview of what has been happening and there is no need for me to add more or really to repeat. The truth is, my heart is filled with much gratitude which I know will take a while for me to unpack. However, today, I agreed to share some highlights that came to mind and will remain with me.  (I'm actually following Libby's orders to be a guest blogger today.  After all, she is the shift coordinator! So, I better do what I'm told!)  Anyhow, Cathy and I were able to sneak out and visit a retreat center in the area.  Our couple of hours' respite and a walk along a labyrinth after several very long days gave me the opportunity to pause and tap into the many graces I was gifted with. I was grateful simply for the opportunity to reflect on the walk along the side of our migrants
. 

Since we arrived, I have had several tasks.  I have been one of the designated drivers. I oversaw the toiletries department, and I have given out medicines. And, yes, I too made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches!  I helped set up a new hosting location and went out to purchase needed supplies. However, what's been most impressive to me are the many visitation moments with the families. While I speak some Spanish, I've been able to understand and get by with simple terms thanks to my Italian and French. The truth is, too, the migrants are very forgiving of my broken Spanish and for whatever reason, we have been able to communicate and understand each other. The deep eyes of a child, an adolescent, a mom or a dad spoke to me of resiliency, courage and strength. The many hugs and sign languages have humanized compassion.  

There have been moments when I was moved to tears and my empathic side kicked in! I heard stories of their long and horrific journeys or how they have been treated at the border or seeing their monitors tightly placed around their ankles where they couldn't remove their pants unless we helped them cut the ankle cuff of their only pair of pants.  In addition, their shoelaces were confiscated (really, not sure why, even from shoes of young children!) Many trips we made to get new shoelaces so they could continue the journey. I guided each family through security and offered explicit instructions on what would happen once I left them to wait to board a bus or plane. And let me tell you, there was a lot to explain and a lot that they went through just at the airport or bus terminal.  As I would hug each one of them on their way, I remember most of their strong grip of not wanting to let go.  With tears in my eyes and my parting words of "Buena suerta" and "Que Dios te bendiga", I have been aware of the need to let go of the outcome because what's most important is the recognition that each short visitation moment held the seed of love and this seed of love is God deeply rooted in each person. Yes, it will take awhile for me to unpack the many gifts. But gratefully, having made the journey with Cathy and Libby, we will have many opportunities to make meaning of our shared experiences in the future.

The sheer beauty of the area on this winter day, the song of birds, the mountains and desert trails with cacti plants offer a paradox of the lived reality of our migrants' journey as thy continue to walk North.  May our passionate God of love guide our migrants to the promise land. May it be so...

Interrupted by a bus

A few days have passed and since I received a prodding email, it must be time to blog again. Monday was the first day our site didn't receive any new refugees and on Tuesday, we shut down the site there, moved everything to one room for storage, and an hour later found out we were popping up a new site in New Mexico, not far away.

So after a lovely Texas BBQ style meal with our new best friends from NY, a final meal of sorts as we were sent to different sites, at 9pm we pulled into our new hotel and started setting up first thing Wednesday morning. I read somewhere that instictually, you don't sleep well the first night in a new place because you are on alert for predators. No predators here, but I am on my 5th new room in 8 days....

Monday and Tuesday were fun as I got to operate as a shift coordinator. That means being the go-to person with problems, arranging the rides, ensuring the meals are served, and a thousand small tasks, one of which was activating a burner cell phone for a man who purchased it a phone and minutes but needed the internet to activate it all. So after only 30 min of effort, including getting him an email account so he could open a cell account so he could register a new phone number at his new address, only then did we realize there were no places nearby that sold international phone cards. So he called his sponsor to call his wife in Guatemala to give her the phone number so she could call him! Phew!! I'm exhausted just describing how much work it took!! So rewarding to connect the two of them. 

Also, without the background worry of a bus coming and the constant turnover of people, it was actually quiet enough to have a coloring club. While I finished my bus poster, a few little ones came in and colored with me. I learned the Spanish word for some colors, and they the English words. We counted a bit and giggled a lot. It was adorable!!

Meanwhile, Cathy and Maco spent the daytime enjoying a quaint nearby town and taking a short break. Little did they know we would end up in that town before the night was over!

So, it's been a good few days. I only now have time to write because we are waiting for the bus to....

Update 5 hours later.... 

So the bus arrived as I was typing that, we welcomed 90 people to a brand new site, and now at 9pm are waiting as their families call to tell us about the tickets they bought. Crazy day!! 

Tonight I go to bed, hearing the sounds of my two roommates just a bit ahead of me asleep, so grateful for their patience, knowledge and amazing work ethic, going for 13 hours straight! I have a lot to learn. 

A bell hop artist

Today feels like the longest day yet - do I keep saying that?? It was full of rewarding, fun moments and the ache of my calves is evidence of the many people and visitation moments that were shared.

I spent the night in the on-call emergency room, not sleeping too well for fear I wouldn't wake up, and hoping I wouldn't be called on with a rush of Spanish words in the middle of the night. Luckily, the only knock was at 6:50 from a man needing some supplies before his 7am transfer. Phew!! I jumped into making sandwiches and by 10am, while Cathy put the bags together, I went through 13 loaves of bread, 4 jumbo jars of peanut butter and 5 jars of jam. 158 sandwiches were ready to go on the road!

A doctor came to check on two patients we were concerned about, one who it turns out has strep and was leaving a few hours later. The kind doc called the prescription in and we had the boy medicated before he left, drugs in hand! To add some hope about their treatment in the ICE facility, one 2-year-old girl came with influenza, and the expensive drugs to treat it, having been seen at the ER while she was in custody. That quick follow-up confirmed she is doing well and it was lovely to see her up and running around today, after sleeping all day yesterday. 

I had to say goodbye to my sweet wee one who followed me around, patted my back, and chartered constantly like I had any idea what she said. That is hard - you are happy the people are going to meet their families, but they are so sweet and some touch your heart so much, you don't want to see them go (until you do!!)

Today I helped serve lunch for the first time, as the people came off the bus at 1pm just as we were cleaning up, we brought it all back out and we're able to serve them! We are told by one teenager that the only thing he was served during the 10 days (where ever he was) was tortillas with nearly raw meat. He got so sick after the first day, he didn't eat the next 9. So, when the people came off the bus, it was emotionally exhausting and infinitely rewarding to look each person in the hand, pass them a big plate of food, smile and say "Bienvenido", and to the kids "Hola!! Cuantos Anos??", and no matter the answer, reply with "muy grande"!!

I find myself being stretched in all kinds of ways while volunteering. While the organization and chaotic pace comes naturally, today I was asked to pray before the lunch meal. They always begin meals with a grace, and today I led it, namely because one of the focuses of my congregation is interculturality. I learned the "Our Father" in all 4 languages where are sisters are (Japanese, Spanish, French, and English). Learning it in Spanish was one of the first things I did at the novitiate, and since we often say it during evening prayer it has become wrote. However, I have never said it alone and to a group of 60 native Spanish speakers. By the end of the prayer, I was the pinker than pink and prayed (while praying) that I wouldn't skip a line or repeat one. I was encouraged when I heard a few people saying it under their breath, and thanked God that it went well, and this first moment was able to put some peace in their hearts. 

Immediately after lunch, I was the bell hop (one of the many "runners"), directing people from the office through the supply rooms to their rooms, and dealing with any "wrong" assignments or dirty rooms. While waiting to go in, people look at a colorful placemat of a map of the US that I found at Target at Cathy's request. We labeled a "you are here" and spend a few moments with people showing them on the map where they will love, and including anecdotes like "muy Frio" or "es bueno!!" and estimating the time on a bus or plane to that destination. This is the second time I get to see the adults all smile and relax. (The first is when they see the food). The new friends elbow each other and wonder at how far away they will be living from each other. It is a rare moment when you see a sparkle in their eyes, brimming with hope in a good future. 

They also read the signs I got to make explaining what to expect in the airport, stealing the idea and nearly every aspect of the poster from a different Annunciation House annex. I am working on a bus one now, but have to get help with the translation of the nuanced differences (tonight's activity).

In the gospel today, we were encouraged to share our talents. It's so neat to get to put my scrapbooking experience to good use. Realize - we have no computer and no printer, but with today's technology, my phone and the walgreens website was all I needed! The people stood around commenting on the pictures, and I'd love to know what they were saying. There was some fear and trepidation on their faces, and I am so glad we can accompany them through security to the gate. I am told that many of the people are quite scared about the connections and it's hard not to jump on a plane and help them the whole way. (I haven't been through security yet). 

Afterwards, (now 6:40pm) Maco and I brought two people from the capital of Honduras to an obscure bus company (that took some effort to find), and when we returned we decided to take the night off and let someone else make the bags for tomorrow! I was in my room by 8pm, for a nice early night, sitting down to enjoy lunch... And supper.... And dessert. 

Before you worry too much about me, worry and Maco and Cathy more, as they are keeping nearly the same schedule and have a few years on me.... (Ha). A hot bath relieved my achy muscles and I am excited for what tomorrow will bring! I am on shift at 7am, so I leave you for tonight with the memory of the little girl in my arms tossing my hair back and forth, the laughter of the people hearing how cold Minnesota is, and how hot my face felt when I led my first Spanish prayer. 

Two coins and shoelaces

The latest in the seemingly trivial but hugely inconveniencing and dehumanizing treatment of the people we see is that they are coming without shoelaces. The laces are removed before going into the holding centers and never returned. Children, adults, infants... they don't discriminate.

Luckily, since we are in the middle of a city, we could do a quick run to the local Target and Dollar General to buy all of their laces, and hand them out, through the need is definitely greater than the supply. 

In relation to this, I got to thinking about the characters you meet in a motel, from the Tesla owner to the woman with two pennies. In the parking lot yesterday there was a Tesla, probably the only one in all of El Paso, here in the La Quinta parking lot. It belongs to one of the people who provide meals regularly for our 100+ guests (amazing volunteers bring in the food for lunch and supper to keep our guests fed, generally local churches or kind families). 

After Instagraming the Tesla, I passed a woman who appeared to have lived a hard life, exhibiting the signs of a drug addict, very irritable and likely in between "doses". She was complaining about the kids and the noise - well let me tell you - these kids don't peep. Librarians are louder than these little ones. I was told she is probably "working" out of her hotel room, and judging by her much happier mood today, I assume things went well for her last night. Before my high horse gets too mighty though, (I am about to be knocked off), she reached out to us and donated a bag of new kids socks she mistakenly bought and then gave us 3 bags of her own clothes to hand out. I can't imagine she has too much extra, since she is living out of the motel, and I think I understand why Jesus just watched as people put money in the Temple funds. 

This woman and her two coins (or three bags of clothes) gave what she had, and it probably meant a lot to her. While I am grateful for the meals from the Tesla owner, he definitely gave from his abundance, and this woman, who's name I don't even know, gave so much more, even if we can't use it all. 

Tonight I am musing that I saw a Bible story played out in real life completely unscripted, and am reminded to not judge or assume so much. I am eager to see what other lessons life in a hotel will bring. 

Tetris - hotel edition

Too tired to really write tonight, worked alongside Sisters Maco, Cathy, and the whole team until 10pm. The bus arrival time is unpredictable, and today that meant a late arrival of 5pm. It took 5 hours to process 70 families, with two amazing Spanish speakers on the phones to get them registered. When the people come in, we take their information down, call their family, and explain to the family to "buy them a bus or plane ticket from El Paso Texas... no...Houston isn't close....(A 12 hour drive)". Then the people get to talk to their family member for the first time. While we don't try to rush them, it's hard when there are 68 people waiting outside in the cold desert night to be registered too. It is great to see their face instantly change when they take the phone and say hello to their family, for the first time from the same side of the border.

Then they are assigned a room, and that's where I worked today. I felt like I was playing tetris, trying to maximize the rooms and putting appropriate people together in a room. Since almost all of the people that come are a parent with a child, two families share the rooms with 2 double beds. Part of the strategery (SNL reference circa 2000 Bush election Will Farrell golden era) is to ensure there are two women in a room together or two men, with similarly aged children. Sometimes matching the gender of the children matters too, especially with the teenagers, but less so for the 5 year olds (so long as they are both 5). Using a system of sticky notes and poster boards, we try to determine if a name is masculine or feminine and match the people up one at a time. It is fun but tiresome. 

Then they proceed to the clothing room where Cathy worked and the toiletries room where Maco was. Then they are shown to their rooms where they meet their roommates. I dropped one group off towards the end of the night and his roommate was already stripped to his underwear, stood there smiling, apparently unaware of his lack of clothing. I giggled, waved, and said "Buenos niches" on my way by.

One neat story: a man was one of the first to be registered, and while the rest of the people were going through registration, his family bought him a ticket, called back, and he was off to the airport hours before registration was finished! That never happens. Even more interesting, I noticed he was going to the same town as where one of our volunteers lives. She's a religious sister as well, and during the car ride to the airport, she was able to offer the man a job to work on the congregation grounds! How great is that!?

Okay too tired to tell more. But I am quite excited to say: I go to bed tonight with the memory of a two-year-old reaching up for me to hold her and cuddling right in While she patted my back, and hearing a little one, maybe 7 years old, from the day before call me 'Tia' (auntie) as we had so many interactions in such a short time! My legs are tired, eyelids heavy, but my heart is very full!

Here is a photo of Sister Karen, her niece Kaleigh, and Sister Maco with the bus behind. There are 100 souls laying their heads on pillows here in the hotel tonight! What a great feeling!

Resiliency

Today (Thursday) the word that rings truest is resiliency. It's the word of the day. Maco witnessed one of the women who was being aggressively patted down as the image of strength and resilience. The woman walked up to TSA, and rather than merely acquiescing to the TSA's demands, she stood there practically in superman's power pose, not defiant, but simply strong, ready to take on whatever challenge is brought to her. 

Another woman was brought to the hospital (by Maco.... perhaps she should be doing this blog....). The woman came in yesterday complaining about her shoulder, and though she took Tylenol, the pain didn't go away and she could barely move her arm. We thought perhaps her arm was dislocated from sleeping on the concrete floor for two weeks (her suggestion) so she went to the hospital. It wasn't dislocated, but she does have a "frozen shoulder", with basic pain meds as the answer and a loose sling. When I saw her after returning from the hospital, she was so grateful to Maco, and bravely faced the pain as if it was nothing. She wasn't bitter or mad about the injury, just relieved to begin treating it. 

A third example, just from today, is a woman who walked into the supplies room, asked for Vaseline, (which I handed to her), then she began to pull her pants down (with the hotel door wide open) and showed me a huge bruise on her butt. I had no idea what I was supposed to do to help her, or even why she was showing me. She tried to explain in Spanish as I smiled dumbly, repeating for the millionth time "lo siento, no comprende". Then I handed her my phone with the Google translate app up, she typed in Spanish and I read in English that the penicillin shot she was given apparently caused the bruise. I finally realized she wanted icy-hot, and luckily we had some. It's unclear as to whether she got the vaccination at the border or in Mexico before crossing over, but she made me think of resiliency immediately, not letting a simple shot slow her down, nor modesty stand in her way of getting what she needed. That woman will do just fine in America to get what she and her family need. 

The final example I have makes me sad and I hesitate to include it. One of the other volunteers, a religious sister coincidentally from NY as well, explained how she saw TSA inspecting a young baby. Normally, the children are given to the volunteer while the parent is being patted down. This time, apparently TSA took the baby and inspected all of the blankets and clothing laying the infant on a table and opening layers of blankets and clothing then actually patting them down. I asked if the baby was crying but apparently not. This resilient little one sat there taking an extreme level of inequity I've never even heard of - and didn't fuss or complain. I can only imagine what's she's experienced already to be okay with a stranger removing her from her mom, putting her on a table, and touching her, but then again what an amazingly strong character that she is starting life with - this little one has a big future ahead. 

Tonight I go to bed in awe of the people in the rooms around around me, and with the prayer that this is the beginning of a new and different life for them, with the hardships they experienced firmly in the past. To them I say, "bienvenidos"!

Sandwiches Sandwiches Sandwiches

What day is it? What month is it? What country am I in? Life in a hotel can be disorienting. Our offices are bedrooms with the bed merely a soft table. Our storeroom and workspaces are also bedrooms with boxes flowing throughout the room, sometimes on a bed, leaning next to a bed, or on top of the dresser with the TV pushed aside. Even the microwave becomes a storage rack!

What that doesn't leave is workspace.... So when your task is to make hundreds of sandwiches, you have to make a spot. Cathy chose to stand by the bathroom sink. As a good novice, I chose the kneeling position by the bedside table.

What that doesn't leave is workspace.... So when your task is to make hundreds of sandwiches, you have to make a spot. Cathy chose to stand by the bathroom sink. As a good novice, I chose the kneeling position by the bedside table, praying to the God who made peanut butter.

Why do we need so many sandwiches? Well the people who travel by bus travel for up to 2 days and need food for the journey. The people who travel by airplane need sustainable too, but no liquids and less because it tends to be faster. So for a two-day bus journey, we supply each person with 6 pb&j sandwiches (one per meal), a few pieces of fruit, some snacks (chips and a granola bar, maybe a few cookies), and some combination of water, juice and Gatorade. People traveling with babies also get a blanket. These packages are typically made the night before for morning trips and that morning for the evening trips. 

This means I stayed for 12 hours again today, despite being relieved of my duties after a more reasonably-lengthed day. It's not just because I have trouble leaving an unfinished job (yes it mostly is). Well, after making hundreds of sandwiches with Cathy, I decided to reorganize the entire room so we could sit at the table to create our next culinary masterpieces. 

Within minutes of christening the newly organized room to resume sandwich making,  we were given an extra room and I got to reorganize the sandwich fixings and newly streamlined care package creation station in the new room, leaving behind all the medicines and toiletries (but not before reorganizing all of those in the more spacious room once all the food was out). 

So, after a day of organizing 2 rooms (three times), I made the packages the for the next day. It was a good day with many interactions as I met the new refugees right off the bus with snacks and drinks. It was so cool to see the worry melt away and their faces relax once they realized that we were friendly and they would soon see their families. Also, shortly after they arrived, since I was primarily in the room with the medicine and toiletries, so many people came through excited to get to shave now that they had a razor, brush their teeth and wash their hair. It was a pretty cool room to be working in. It will certainly be quieter when I move to the sequestered pb&j room, but we might have to install a coloring station near the extra bed....

Also, Maco and I served lunch today: leftover (but amazing) costco pizza. It had been in the fridge and with no way to heat dozens of pizzas, Maco explained over and over how to use the microwave in their rooms. With a few practiced words, I tried to explain too "Caliente pizza....micro....cuarto" but then just pointed them to Maco to explain with sentences. 

I initially thought I would have nothing to write about, but today really was full. Also - I am happy to report that my sick mama from yesterday is doing fine today, her sons were happy to show me that they were bringing her pizza (and she was well enough to eat it though not yet out of bed). 

Tonight I go to bed with heavy eyelids, smelling of peanut butter, but feeling so relieved that the rooms are organized! All my type-A's say heeeyyyyyy!!! (Heeeyyy!)