Month: February 2023

From Ajo, I journeyed north-east to Tucson, where I was received by a delightful friend Nicky Manlove, with whom I sang in the Chapel Choir at Seattle University for four years, and her partner, Davon. For 11 days, I enjoy their delightful home filled with countless houseplants, the abundance of green in contrast to the hues of light brown and concrete that characterize urban Tucson. We watched shows and movies, I connected with Humane Borders and Casa Alitas, I met more people who gifted me their smiles, their stories, their blessings on my journey. 

I had a lot of free time in Tucson, which I was so excited to dedicate to writing, but I was only able to catch myself up to about halfway through my time in Ajo. I kept feeling a block, feeling disconnected, directionless. I was disappointed with myself because I hadn’t blogged, hadn’t posted, hadn’t created content and wasn’t making any revelatory discoveries or reading books (faster) or practicing guitar. I distracted myself by hand washing dishes instead of placing them in the dishwasher.

I tried to tend to the disturbance in my affect and had some lovely adventures as a result. I cooked delicious soups, spent time outdoors, visited the beautiful Parish of St. Kateri Tekakwitha for Mass. I traveled to Douglas, AZ for a night to spend time with Sr. Judy Bourg (who I met in Ajo) and visit the migrant resource center just next to the port of entry in Agua Prieta, Sonora, where the recently deported can find coffee, a hot meal, bandages for their wounds, safe space and a pause to plan the next steps. I was graced with beautiful religious art, long drives in the desert expanse, blooming ocotillo thanks to the abundant rain!! 

With Humane Borders, I got to meet more inspirational people on two different water runs – one to service established water stations on a 5 hour driving route, and another to hike gallons out into a remote trail on foot. We again spent hours in provocative, meaningful conversation. “War is about letting the rich get what they want” says Rebecca, who takes me and another visitor from Wisconsin on the hike. I realize that that is true. I realize that human history is, disappointingly, cyclical. As we enter the rabbit hole on the long drive out to the trail head, I think a lot about how much U.S. policy in response to immigration and guns is so beneficial for the international criminal organizations (cartels) that effectively rule much of Latin America. I think they must be so glad each time the American government puts more restrictions on asylum-seekers and refugees, each time Greg Abbott says he can’t raise the minimum age for the purchase of assault-style rifles, each time we fail to address mental health and drug use (or the abuses of the pharmaceutical industry) in our communities in a large-scale, meaningful way. These decisions create such a lucrative business for the criminal organizations, who celebrate with their profits of American currency and their arsenals of American-made weapons. 

For a capitalist free-market government so obsessed with supply & demand economics, we surely miss the mark when it comes to trying to fight the cartels with border security and arms and military training in Mexico and beyond, I think. But I am not an expert, by any means… I just have my thoughts, and of course sharing these thoughts does not really lead to anything, but I believe that truth-speaking is the first step and so I keep oversharing my unprofessional opinions whenever I get the chance.

At Casa Alitas, a shelter run by Catholic Community Services of Tucson that receives people being released from immigration processing, I spend most of my (4) shifts as a floater, standing in a big room and waiting for people to ask me questions and showing them to the restroom. It occurs to me that this is the modern day Ellis Island, something I hadn’t really considered in all my years of shelter work prior. It is a welcome center, a pitstop, a quick place of rest and refuge, currently located in a wing of a juvenile detention center. On the walls, there is so much art that has been specially made for the space and caters to its mission. One of the art posters that takes my breath away is called “Sanctuary: the Spirit of Harriet Tubman” with the accompanying poem written by Jan Phillips:

“companeros, take heart – though your roots be torn, they will grow again in new ground and brighter days will rise from the fertile dark.”

“Companeros, animense! aunque esten arrancadas sus raices, brotaran de nuevo en nueva tierra, y dias mejores surgiran de la oscuridad fertil.”

Just a day after I left Tucson and went to Rio Rico to volunteer with Kino Border Initiative in Nogales, Sonora, I was on a walk to clear my mind when I received the call from my mother that my grandfather had passed away. I decided to spend one more night in Rio Rico so I could visit with my former professor, Audrey Hudgins, who I remain so close to and who continues to mentor and inspire me. We are kindred spirits. She is volunteering at Kino and has been since late December (I made sure that I would overlap with her in Nogales before she returned to Seattle – it turned out for less time than I had hoped). She spends the time she is not teaching living out the praxis that she teaches. She tells me on the phone about a month before we see each other, “I have the means and capacity to give a shit, obviously, and so I can’t not give a shit.”

I cross the border and walk two miles to find her in the entrance to Kino’s comedor, and we walk together to the volunteer house. We sit on the roof and share stories, and I talk about the mystery of my vocational work. We had almost an identical conversation in the same town just over three years ago. I am slightly embarrassed to admit I am still in the discovering despite time and jobs and experiences and relationships. She tells me she is glad that I haven’t yet figured it out, because then what would I be doing for the rest of my pilgrimage this year if I had already found my answer.

I am so profoundly grateful and overflowing with love for this special person and the others who accompanied me that day, and the next morning I drive back to California with hope and love in my heart.

(This is a continuation of parts 2 & 3 of the first 6 weeks of my pilgrimage)

From Phoenix I go to Ajo, a small town of roughly 3,000 people, just north of Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, about 45 minutes north of the border with Mexico.

In Ajo I experience hospitality, discovery, kinship, and profoundly beautiful and tragic desert landscape. I went to Ajo to learn from the Ajo Samaritans, a group of mostly retiree aged folk who hike life-saving supplies into the remote desert. My first water drop is the morning after I arrive. Here is an excerpt from my journaling of that experience:

We are driving out into the mountains as the sun rises over the miles and miles of saguaro. It is breathtaking, and the people I am driving with are lovely, and we are sharing stories of lament, concern, talking immigration politics, talking immigration realities, talking all the stuff that you talk when you move into this world of understanding just how tragic and infuriating and unjust our immigration system really is. We are going into the desert, after all, to drop gallons of water, snacks, and socks in remote areas where we suspect migrants cross in attempt to enter the U.S. undetected. Since the border became more and more restricted in the 90s (thanks Bill Clinton and NAFTA), people trying to enter the United States in search of work, safety, or family reunification and devoid of legal opportunities to do so have been forced to cross the border in more remote areas like the Sonoran Desert. Thousands of people have died on this journey since the late 90s. Hundreds continue to die every year, mostly from exposure and hyperthermia.

I would think that most people are not aware of this reality. The erasure of migrants who die in the desert is just another policy, I guess, to secure the border. Walls, sensors, agents, helicopters, ATVs, X-Ray machines, horses, rivers, mountains, valleys, the sun, the cold, the lack of rain, the lack of public outrage. As we hike through the hills, wandering around chollas and creosote and lots of other desert plants whose names I do not know, I learn more about the other volunteers and how they arrived here. They are all at least 30 years older than me, if I am not mistaken. Our facilitator is 63. She has so much information and shares it freely. She helps me understand the signs that sites have not been used, that perhaps routes have changed. We pack out any empty bottles or trash that we find, write the date and a note in Spanish on each new bottle that we leave (“No more deaths! Until a world without borders!”), and the facilitator keeps track of how much usage is noted at each site. We repeat this cycle a few times, as there are various drops at different locations. The truck we ride in gets lots of new desert stripes as we drive through the narrow, rocky, steep corridors lined with palo verdes and ocotillo.

The Ajo Samaritans “continue the historical work of providing water and other humanitarian aid to travelers in the desert, regardless of their immigration status.” There are also Tucson and Green Valley Samaritans, I learn, as well as Humane Borders and No More Deaths (Phoenix AND Tucson) who participate in similar work in this particular area of the continent. I feel so so excited and eager to connect with these people in this work that is brand new to me. 

Most of the members of the Ajo Samaritans are retired and from somewhere else. They each contribute what they can – vehicle maintenance, supply purchases, support with the aid office, facilitation of hikes, the list goes on. They operate on consensus based decision making, which shows in the way they communicate with one another. Every next step is an invitation with openness to feedback. They check in with each other regularly to see how each person is feeling during the hike. Even those of us who are visiting are asked for our thoughts on all of the decisions. Their core values are nonviolence, consent, transparency, solidarity, and human rights.

One of the Samaritans who welcomes me into her temporary home is Carol, who spent the previous chapter of her life working for the Colorado Department of Labor in the Trade Adjustment Assistance program, assisting people who lost their jobs as a result of the expansion of free trade across the Americas. Carol shares with me her story and I gratefully share mine. Years after she retired, she participated in a 9-month course on social justice with a cohort from her Methodist church called “Justfaith“, which gave birth to a community of fellowship that inspired a group of 8 families to move themselves into the city of Denver, create a common home (complete with ceiling renovations to accommodate solar panels), and host book clubs, meditations, people in need of a place of rest, Monday night dinners. I took notes when she told me about this because I knew if I didn’t I would forget the details, and I was loving hearing the details!

Carol blessed me with half-decaf, half-caffeinated coffee, pimento cheese sandwiches, a kind listening ear. Our lives somehow paralleled each other at that moment: she sold her house and is traveling while awaiting the opening of a senior intentional eco-village community in Denver. She has spent time in Florida, Costa Rica, and now Ajo. In Florida, she connected with a church group cooking lunch and dinner for folks who were devastated by Hurricane Ian. Carol teaches me how to slow down and practice acceptance. I am so grateful that I was able to receive her hospitality – I am reminded that having a posture of openness and flexibility somehow always brings me surprise, delight, love, and connection!

My time in Ajo was so meaningful, so gentle and tender and filled with companionship. I went to Sonoyta, Sonora twice, hiked into the surrounding desert lands many times, went to Church, helped screen print t-shirts. I buried a deceased packrat, learned about the different regulations on humanitarian aid water drops in the different types of land surrounding Ajo (Bureau of Land Management, National Monument, National Refuge, Tohono O’odham Reservation) and the restrictions they place on humanitarian aid activity. I learned more about the prosecution of Scott Warren and some of the impact that has had on the Samaritan community. It gifted me with new and profound connections, with curiosity to learn more, with warmth for having received such hospitality in a small town in the middle of the Sonoran Desert!

Stay tuned for part IV of the first six weeks of my travels… 🙂

In Phoenix, I stayed with a couple, Tim and Clare Broyles, who I met years ago through the ever expanding networks of Annunciation House. They received me in their beautiful guest house and we shared hours of conversation, me learning so much about how their journey together started, inspired by the sanctuary movement. 

At one point, Clare shared with me about their living in Juarez (in the late 90s-early 00s) while she was pregnant with her first born, Sam. They did not have health insurance at the time, so she had all of her pre-natal appointments with a nun, Sr. Janet, who worked in a children’s health clinic across the road from their tiny house in Colonia Anapra. They recounted stories of Casa Peregrina, the shelter in Juarez that received any and all Central Americans seeking refuge from the aftermaths of the many U.S.-involved civil wars and conflict. They talked about how interesting and fun it was to live in Mexico at that particular point in history, with all of the chaos and informality and goings-on. They wanted to live simple, justice-oriented lives on the border and had plans to be there indefinitely, because that’s what mattered to them. The demands of raising their baby and the lack of funds and private space pushed them to move back to Phoenix sooner than they had hoped.

I was so inspired by their choice to live life so intentionally and with such trust in God, wanting to express solidarity with the refugees and immigrants arriving in Juarez/El Paso, leading with their hearts and gifting their child with dozens of tias and abuelas in his first year of life. 

My experience working with Annunciation House was a treasured gift that transformed me and always nourishes me when I return. If God would have it that I would be able to participate in that lifestyle with a partner!! Pregnant!! With a child!!! What a wondrous and meaningful time that would be. Difficult, messy, stressful, inconvenient, yes. But probably so beautiful. And I am a person quite attracted to beauty!!

Tim is a theology teacher at Brophy College Prep, an all-boys Jesuit-Catholic high school, and he asked me to speak to his students about my life. “Tell them about your time at A House. Tell them about Catholic Charities, and what you’re doing right now, and how you discern the voice of God.” I love speaking with young people, and I love sharing myself, but that seemed like a tall order. I am amazed at the confidence he had to throw me to the front of the room and let me speak to these youth without any sort of formal outline. I agreed to go and prayed that I would say something that made sense to at least one student.

I jotted down some notes and some quotes in a journal that I have that says “big ideas.” It is my idea journal, my not-journal-journal, where I might write ideas (was that obvious?). I also have a proper journal where I write entries – sometimes recaps of my day, sometimes emotional musings, sometimes prayers – as well as a notebook where I keep track of lines/notes from books that strike me or that I want to remember. I also have a very large blank page notebook that I use for any kinds of classes, conferences, webinars, immersions, and my leadership cohort. This notebook was born in 2014 when I took my first philosophy class and my professor urged us to keep a special journal of photos, poems, and songs that we found beautiful. It is living a full life!

My time speaking with the students at Brophy (3 classes of seniors and 1 of juniors, to be more precise) was delightful. I realize how unusual of a speaker I am as I begin to articulate my story. The moral of my story is that being unattached, following the voice of God to wherever it leads us, changing course, and disregarding the traditional norms of the capitalist lifestyle (as someone with the privilege of generational wealth), are all perfectly worthwhile things. 

Tim introduces me to the students as “a living example of a Jesuit educated person – a woman living for others” – a concept which the students are studying via the Superior General of the Society of Jesus Pedro Arrupe’s “Men for Others” speech from 1973. I am in disbelief that anything I have to offer would even approach this, but I speak to it anyways! I try to be clear that my pursuit of my own vocation is in service of my participation in the greater love story of living the gospel and building the Kindom of God on earth. I am humbly trying to center and de-center myself at once, to live in the beautiful pain and contradictions of being alive and value-centered in a world so overflowing with avarice, violence, and suffering.

Yes; gifted with conscience, intelligence and power each of us is indeed a center. But a center called to go out of ourselves, to give ourselves to others in love — love, which is our definitive and all-embracing dimension, that which gives meaning to all our other dimensions. Only the one who loves fully realizes himself or herself as a person. To the extent that any of us shuts ourselves off from others we do not become more a person; we become less.” -Pedro Arrupe, SJ, “Men for Others”

I tell the students that I hope they give weight, time, and energy to discovering what their values are, what is most important and true for them, and going forth with those things as a foundation. 

After speaking with Tim’s senior classes, I journeyed onto the third floor of the building and found Steven Schillig, another teacher at Brophy whom I also met at Annunciation House in 2020. He was teaching Christian ethics to a class of junior students, who gave me the last 20 minutes of their day.

Steven’s students proved to be as attentive, interested, and reflective as the seniors below them. They asked lots of interesting questions – by the end of the day I was exhausted! I managed to tell a story of a Venezuelan man I met at Annunciation House in October 2022 whose life affect and story deeply touched me. In telling this story, I explained to the students the Darien Gap, a stretch of wild jungle in Panama that borders Colombia, which tens of thousands of migrating peoples cross every year on their journeys northward, often towards the United States. It is an incredibly dangerous and notorious stretch of the journey, as it takes days to traverse and there is no “civilization,” though there are plenty of organized crime groups and individuals who rob, violate, and even sometimes kill the folks who are crossing. Because it is so remote, many people die in the jungle and their bodies are left there. Everyone who crosses the Darien has seen death and dying.

As I am trying to gently but honestly explain this to the students (it was all tied up in my story of the Venezuelan man!), one of the students asks in disbelief “why don’t they just walk on the road?” I explained to him that there was no road, to which he laughed in disbelief. I realized that I was sort of breaking through his world view at that moment, and humbly suggested that google could verify all that I was saying.

The next day, after completing an amazing trek up Piestewa Peak in the Phoenix Mountains Preserve accompanied by none other than Brene Brown (on podcast), I joined Steven, Tim, and Clare for Taco Tuesday at a place not far from the school. 

As we are sitting down, Steven starts with excitement. “Guess what! Last night, at 11 pm, I got an email from a student. It was a link to an article on the Darien Gap that just said “this is wild.”” 

It was a gift and delight to spend time with Tim and Clare and Steven on my journey. They are people who inspire me – and who inspire curiosity in me. They pray before meals, they seek to live what is real. They seek to give their gifts to the world, inspire others, create loving and healing spaces. In all of these faces, God shows me so much love.

Stay tuned for parts III and IV of my pilgrimage (January & February) … 🙂

It is February 21st and I am seated in the loft at the home where my mom resides in Oceanside, CA. I am here just for a short time, maybe a few more days. I added this stop onto my journey because my grandpa (we called him Poppy!) passed away last week mostly unexpectedly. It is a privilege and honor to be with my mom and in this house, which belonged to my grandparents, in the after moments of Poppy’s departure. We don’t really have grieving or mourning practices in my family and community, though, so I find myself in disbelief that he is gone. The other day I was helping my mom sort through and organize the many, many bins that have taken up most of the garage.

“What the heck!” I said, in the middle of sorting nothing in particular. “What?” my mom asked, curious as to what I had found. 

“I just remembered that Poppy died.”

I honor and hope to engage more with the memory of my grandparents – my moms parents – who are now reunited in the Ethereal home together, looking down at us as we continue to fumble through this life! Hopefully we can make them laugh and make them proud.

I am just over 6 weeks into my pilgrimage, and I ask for forgiveness for not sharing more information via this platform. It has been a very busy, profound, experiential time, and I think I have the wrong posture about blogging that prevents me from doing it, but God willing I can shift that!

I last wrote from Los Angeles, where I shared a meal with my cousin Amanda and then spent a few days with my cousin Kelsey. While there, I hiked an incredible trail in the Topanga State Park with the most breathtaking views of the ocean and Los Angeles. I was breaking in my new hiking boots that I would be using for water drops in the desert, and wanted to condition my body some more. It was an almost 3-hour journey through bluffs, canyons, and an amazing waterfall. 

The next day, my cousin and I embarked on a metro-trek into downtown from Culver City to find Homeboy Industries, a place I know so much about via my followings of the amazing and sure to be saint Fr. Greg Boyle. When we arrived, it was closed, but a gentleman named Marcos let us in. It was delightful and privileged to receive Marcos’s hospitality – he kept us engaged in profound conversation for over an hour! He shared about the work of Homeboy Industries, his own story as a recovering drug addict, and about the persistence of “G” (who he mostly referred to as “Dad”) in his relationships with the gang and drug-involved folks who come through the organization. Marcos helped us understand that it can take years and years and years before people are really able to choose differently for their lives but that it doesn’t phase Fr. Greg – he, and thus the organization, continue giving people unconditional love and welcome. 

Marcos said multiple times that the organization would cease to exist if it weren’t for the persistent presence of Fr. Greg. 

“You just want to be in the world who God is: compassionate, loving, and kind, and all the while you want to take seriously what Jesus took seriously. [We need to be] anchored in the marrow of the message: inclusion, non-violence, unconditional loving-kindness and compassionate acceptance, and if we take those four things seriously, then we are aligned with the Heart of God.” (-Greg Boyle, S.J., from the episode “Leading with Tenderness” of the podcast Encounters With Dignity)

On my way to my next stop in Las Vegas, I stopped for the morning in Pasadena to meet for the first time in person a beloved companion, Lillian, who I know through participating in an 18-month-long virtual spiritual formation program called Contemplative Leaders in Action. She took me to Mass and afterwards we spent about an hour in a separate space of the church bagging food donations to be distributed to community members who are food insecure, and then made our way to Twoheys, a Pasadena brunch staple 🙂

I was graced with the opportunity to see Lillian’s apartment home before leaving for Las Vegas and we delighted in deep conversation about values, family, supporting refugees, and lots of other topics. I didn’t want to leave!

In Las Vegas, I found myself on an air mattress in the living room of a sort-of-one-bedroom apartment with a young couple and their precious 5-year-old. In the tiny space of a makeshift kitchen, the mom and I talked for hours about everything under the sun. She made me delicious food and I tried a Venezuelan Arepa for the first time (fresh, hot, filled with love!!!). 

I picked up my mom at the Las Vegas airport a few days later and we drove to Flagstaff, where we shared delightfully ordinary moments with my little brother Briggs – watching the sunset on the top of the snow covered mountain, going to the movies, driving down to Sedona and falling in love with the red rocks. It was restorative and tender and profound – I am blessed with the opportunity to share adventures like this with my loved ones!

Stay tuned for parts II, III, and IV…… 🙂