Month: March 2023

11 marzo 2023

¡Hola después de dos meses de mi peregrinaje a lo largo de esta frontera tan tumultuosa y llena de noticias! Actualmente estoy sentada en un escritorio en una habitación que me prestaron por un mes en la casa Marist-Maryknoll en El Paso, Texas. Hay una hermosa lámpara de cristal de colores a mi derecha que ilumina el espacio sin ventanas, y estoy comiendo una barra de coco teñida con los colores de la bandera mexicana. Esta mañana me siento ligera, me siento inspirada, me siento esperanzada.

La bendición de este capítulo (en El Paso) es la oportunidad de tomar una pausa más grande y procesar de donde vengo. Hay días en los que me siento desconectada y sin rumbo (seguramente, más días de los que desearía que fueran así) y puedo caer en la duda. Esa experiencia tiende a resonar para mí independientemente de dónde esté o de lo que esté haciendo. Al crecer, mi madre lo llamó estar “en un funk”.

Pero luego hay otros días en los que escucho música de películas que nunca he visto (actualmente escucho “Half Brothers” de Jordan Seigel) y sonrío al cielo y me siento inspirada, abrumada con convicción y gratitud más allá de las palabras. A veces es difícil transformar esos momentos en la acción que busco. Estoy dedicando este tiempo a cultivar esa convicción e inspiración en lugar de tratar de transformarla tan rápido. Llegará el momento de eso, estoy segura.

Los pocos días que pasé en la Iniciativa Kino para la Frontera fueron informativos y hermosos. Aunque tuve algunos días desafiantes, atesoro las pequeñas interacciones de la comunidad que compartí con el personal y los voluntarios a quienes reporté. Escuché las noticias de NPR muchas mañanas mientras conducía con las hermanas Tracey y Marilu. Me sentí tiernamente vista y cuidada por la Hermana Nancy. Compartí una comida con algunas voluntarias y Misioneras de la Eucaristía (¡completa con tequila y salsa casera de habanero!) con muchas risas y lamentos. Compartí conversaciones profundas y leí las reflexiones del padre de mi ex compañera de coro de Seattle U.

Admiro los esfuerzos de la organización para animar y apoyar a la comunidad de voluntarios/personal; a pesar de que solo ofrecí 9 días de obra, me celebraron con un hermoso pastel de tres leches en mi último día y una tarjeta firmada con dulces mensajes. Muchos miembros del personal repitieron que esperaban que yo regresara algún día (¡y casada! ¡Con mi cónyuge!) en un futuro no muy lejano.

Mi parte favorita de estar en Kino fue poder presenciar y aprender sobre el corazón de su enfoque organizacional. Al principio pensé que el protocolo era lo que quería aprender, pero rápidamente me di cuenta de que los protocolos son situacionales, regionales y cambiantes. La misión y los valores subyacentes es lo que más me inspira. Lo que quiero, más que nada, son respuestas a las preguntas “¿qué futuro imaginamos para todos nosotros? ¿Qué tipo de comunidad, y mundo, queremos construir, y cómo lo haremos?”

Durante mi orientación, compartieron conmigo sus “prioridades estratégicas” en las que se están enfocando durante estos próximos 3 años como una organización en constante crecimiento y evolución. El acompañamiento integral de los migrantes es la primera prioridad, incluyendo la recreación, el cuidado espiritual, el empoderamiento y el acceso a los derechos. La siguiente es la integración de migrantes en los Estados Unidos, sustentando comunidades de acompañamiento mutuo y motivando y equipando socios educativos para recibir y acompañar a los migrantes. La siguiente prioridad es la hospitalidad local, que incluye la creación de redes y la hospitalidad, en Sonora, México, seguida de un cambio de políticas: crear voluntad política en los EE. UU. para promover políticas migratorias humanas, justas y viables a través de cambios en el sentimiento público, transformando comunidades indiferentes hacia la empatía. Su última prioridad explícita es la equidad y el bienestar: promover la dignidad, la equidad y el bienestar entre el personal y los voluntarios.

Todas las organizaciones que he visitado hasta ahora (Ajo Samaritans, Casa Alitas, Fronteras Compasivas, la Iniciativa Kino Para la Frontera) realmente están tratando de enfrentarse a la oscuridad con esperanza, ofrecer apoyo vital, y vivir los valores de amor, justicia, dignidad, y comunidad. Ninguna de estas organizaciones afirma estar haciendo todo, o resolviendo todos los problemas, o ayudando a todos. No sugieren tener todas las respuestas a la migración masiva de personas en todo el mundo. Ellos, como cualquier otra organización o colectivo orientado al servicio social, son capaces de discernir el valor de hacer algo, por pequeño o temporal que sea, a pesar de los muchos obstáculos y desafíos. De plantar semillas, de emprender el trabajo que les corresponde.

Creo que a veces hay un miedo a que te rompan el corazón que impide que las personas se comprometan con personas y comunidades que están experimentando un sufrimiento particularmente agudo (eso, mezclado con nuestro ensimismamiento que nos convence de que en realidad no tenemos tiempo ni energía o capacidad ;; El Jesuita Greg Boyle dice que las personas no somos egoístas, solo estamos absortos en nosotros mismos. Estamos distraídos por nosotros mismos, lo que nos impide ver a los demás). Cuando no nos criamos con la normalización del voluntariado, la ayuda mutua y la acción orientada a la comunidad, esas cosas se convierten en elecciones que solo hacen “gente realmente buena”, o “santos”, o personas con “gran corazón”, o personas que son “valientes”, pero no nosotros. 

Y luego, debido a que todavía estamos viendo las noticias e yendo al centro de la ciudad y evitando viajar a ciertas áreas, no sabemos cómo involucrarnos en ningún problema de la comunidad; entonces gastamos nuestra energía, dinero y tiempo tratando de anestesiar el dolor y el miedo que surge naturalmente. Tratamos de recuperar el control de todos los aspectos de nuestras vidas, utilizando nuestras cámaras de seguridad, aplicaciones de planificación financiera y entrenamiento personal en el gimnasio, para contrarrestar la angustia de nuestro entorno incontrolable. Y cuanto más nos desconectamos del mundo que nos rodea, más nos hundimos en la apatía y la indiferencia. Y como dice Patrick Saint-Jean, S.J., en El Trabajo Espiritual de Justicia Racial,

“…cuando nos dejamos hundir en la apatía y la indiferencia, el fuego de nuestra imaginación se apaga. Ya no podemos vislumbrar la posibilidad de un mundo mejor. Algo dentro de nosotros está muerto”. (pág. 313)

Sospecho que la obsesión de mi cultura con la adquisición material y la promoción comercial y política de mejorar la eficiencia, la comodidad y el placer de nuestras vidas sin tener en cuenta a nuestros vecinos o el medio ambiente explicaría por qué tantos de nosotros estamos tratando de aumentar nuestras protecciones y participar menos aún con nuestras comunidades. Luego también tenemos la continuación del paternalismo supremacista blanco y el capitalismo explotador desenfrenado que eleva la caridad individual mientras aniquila cualquier intento de reforma estructural. Ninguno de nosotros es inmune a lo que hemos heredado de nuestros antepasados, lo bueno y lo malo, y los contextos sociales dentro de los cuales nos formamos como seres humanos.

Y, sin embargo, todos estamos dotados de conciencia para discernir, fuera de una mentalidad de supervivencia, para tirar (o transformar) lo que no nos sirve y no servirá a la séptima generación que viene después de nosotros. Aquellos de nosotros que crecimos en un contexto cristiano o practicamos sabemos que durante este tiempo de Cuaresma, no nos estamos preparando espiritualmente para la Crucifixión. Nos estamos preparando para la Resurrección.

“La Resurrección es una llamada a imaginar. Nos desafía a ampliar nuestras perspectivas y descubrir el volumen completo de lo que Dios nos está llamando a ser y hacer. La imaginación alimenta la empatía, permitiéndonos explorar lo que significa sentir, ver y pensar como otra persona”. (Patrick Saint-Jean, S.J., El trabajo espiritual de la justicia racial)

Y entonces pido a Dios para que cada uno de nosotros pueda discernir nuestras propias prioridades estratégicas, como Kino, que explícitamente nos llaman a una relación más profunda con nosotros mismos, nuestros vecinos y nuestro hogar ecológico, usando nuestra imaginación para “re-crear nuestro mundo, permitiéndonos ser co-creadores con Dios.” ?<3

March 11, 2023

Hello from two months into my pilgrimage along this most bustling and news-garnering frontier! I am currently sitting at a desk in a room lent to me for the month at the Marist-Maryknoll house in El Paso, Texas. There is a beautiful stained glass lamp to my right that lights up the windowless space, and I am snacking on a coconut candy bar which is dyed the colors of the Mexican flag. This morning I feel light, I feel inspired, I feel hopeful.

The blessing of this chapter (in El Paso) is the opportunity to take a larger pause and process where I have come from. There are days when I feel disconnected and aimless – surely, more days than I would wish are like this – and I can descend into self-doubt. That experience tends to resonate for me regardless of where I am or what I am doing. Growing up, my mom called it being “in a funk.”

But then there are other days where I listen to scores of movies I have never seen (currently listening to “Half Brothers” by Jordan Seigel) and I smile at the sky and I feel inspired, overwhelmed with conviction and gratitude beyond words. Sometimes it is difficult to transform those moments into the action I seek. I am dedicating this time to cultivating that conviction and inspiration rather than trying to transform it so quickly. The time will come for that, I am sure.

The few days that I spent at Kino Border Initiative were informative and beautiful. Though I had some challenging days, I treasure the small interactions of community that I shared with the staff and volunteers to whom I reported. I listened to NPR news many mornings on the drive down with Sisters Tracey and Marilu. I felt tenderly seen and cared for by Sister Nancy. I shared a meal with a few volunteers and Missionaries of the Eucharist (complete with tequila and homemade habanero salsa, y’all!) with lots of laughter and lament. I shared deep conversations with and read the reflections of the father of my former choir-mate from Seattle U.

I admire the organization’s efforts to uplift and support the volunteer/staff community; even though I only offered 9 days of labor, I was celebrated with a beautiful tres leches cake on my last day and a card signed with sweet messages. So many of the staff repeated that they hoped that I would come back some day (and married! With my spouse!) not too far off in the future.

My most favorite part of being at Kino was being able to witness and learn about the heart of their organizational focus. At first I thought that protocol was what I wanted to learn, but I quickly realized that protocols are situational, regional, and shifting. The mission and underlying values is what inspires me more. What I want, more than anything, are responses to the questions “what future do we imagine for all of us? What kind of community – and world – do we want to be a part of building, and how will we do that?” 

During my orientation, they shared with me their “strategic priorities” that they are focusing on during these next 3 years as an organization constantly growing and evolving. Holistic accompaniment of the migrants is the first priority – including recreation, spiritual care, empowerment, and access to rights. The next is migrant integration in the United States, sustaining communities of mutual accompaniment and motivating and equipping educational partners to welcome and accompany migrants. The next priority is local hospitality, which includes networking and hospitality, in Sonora, Mexico, followed by policy change: creating political will in the U.S. to advance humane, just, and workable migration policy through changes in public sentiment, transforming indifferent communities towards empathy. Their final explicit priority is equity and wellness – promoting dignity, equity, and wellness among staff and volunteers.

All of the organizations I have visited with so far – Ajo Samaritans, Casa Alitas, Humane Borders, Kino Border Initiative – really are trying to meet darkness with hope, to offer life-sustaining support, to transform values of love, justice, dignity, and community into action. None of these organizations claims to be doing everything, or solving all the problems, or helping everyone. They don’t suggest having all of the answers to mass migration of peoples across the globe. They, like any other social service oriented organization or collective, are able to discern the value of doing something, however small or temporary, despite the many obstacles and challenges. Of planting seeds, of taking up the work which is theirs. 

I think sometimes there is a fear of having one’s heart broken that keeps people from engaging with individuals and communities that are experiencing particularly acute suffering (that, mixed with our self-absorption that convinces us that we actually don’t have time or energy or capacity ;; Father Greg Boyle says that people are not selfish, we are just self-absorbed. We are distracted by ourselves, which keeps us from seeing others). When we aren’t raised with the normalization of volunteering, mutual aid, and community-oriented action, those things become choices that only “really good people” make, or “saints,” or people with “big hearts,” or people who are “brave,” but not us. And then, because we are still watching the news and going downtown and avoiding travel to certain areas, we don’t know how to engage with any community problems at all, and so we spend our energy and money and time trying to anesthetize the pain and fear that naturally arises. We try to regain control of all of aspects of our lives – using our security cameras, and financial planning applications, and body-building practices at the gym – to counter the angst of our uncontrollable surroundings. And the more we disengage with the world around us, the more we sink into apathy and indifference. And as Patrick Saint-Jean, S.J., says in The Spiritual Work of Racial Justice,

“…when we let ourselves sink into apathy and indifference, the fire of our imagination flickers out. We can no longer envision the possibility of a better world. Something within us is dead.” (pg. 313)

I suspect that my culture’s obsession with material acquisition and the commercial and political promotion of improving the efficiency, comfort, and pleasure of our lives without regard to our neighbors or environment would explain why so many of us are trying to scale up our protections and engage even less with our communities. Then we also have the continuation of white supremacist paternalism and unbridled exploitative capitalism that elevates individual charity and “doing something nice for others” while annihilating any attempts at structural reform. None of us are immune from what we have inherited from our ancestors, the good and the bad, and the societal contexts within which we are formed as human beings. 

And yet we are all gifted with conscience to discern, outside of a mindset of survival, to throw away (or transform) that which is not serving us and will not serve the seventh generation that comes after us. Those of us who were raised within a Christian context or are practicing know that during this time of Lent, we are not spiritually preparing for the Crucifixion. We are preparing for the Resurrection. 

“The Resurrection is a call to imagine. It challenges us to broaden our perspectives and discover the full volume of what God is calling us to be and do. Imagination fuels empathy, allowing us to explore what it means to feel, see, and think as another person.” Patrick Saint-Jean, S.J., “The Spiritual Work of Racial Justice”

And so I pray that we may each discern our own strategic priorities, like Kino, that explicitly call us into deeper relationship with ourselves, our neighbors, and our ecological home, using our imagination to “re-create our world, allowing us to be co-creators with God.” ?

March 4, 2023

“Let’s-go Ma-ri!!” sings Angel, the portero and person I report to, as I am walking back into the comedor to find more families that are on the clothing bank list. He is cheering me on because there is a lot of work to do and I have to go up and down the stairs many times. For the first time in my experience working with folks who don’t speak English (or are learning), I decide to offer up Mari as an easier alternative to my first name. Marie is my second name, although only my mom calls me that, sometimes. 

The clothing bank, or “roperia” as it is called, is a job that I never had to have while working at Annunciation House. Because I was full time, I was quickly elevated to leadership roles, and while I did have to accompany guests into the clothing bank dozens of times, I never had to do it for very long, or for a whole shift, or as my only responsibility. I come to Kino, however, as a short-term support, wanting to learn their processes from the ground up, wanting not to inconvenience or ask for any special training or favors, and so they put me in the roperia.

Because of the building set up and distribution of resources, the volunteers take down requests and sizes far away from where the clothing and shoes are actually organized and stored. While some of the requests are easy and straightforward, others quickly become laborious with the challenges of cross-cultural sizes and the slim-pickings of the donations. 

“You ever cry after working a shift in the roperia?” I text Audrey, my friend who annually comes to volunteer with Kino for a few weeks or months at a time. “Oh yeah…” she replies almost immediately. I am consoled and confused, because I always held my ability to be flexible, to do the jobs that no one else wants to do, to put aside my own interests to meet needs, in high esteem. And here I have this experience where I don’t enjoy my post, and I get back home at the end of the day exhausted and sin animo. There are some hard emotions in discovering that we are not exactly who we tell ourselves we are (or not meeting the expectations that we hold, however subconscious, for ourselves). And yet I have come to a place spiritually (thanks to countless mentors and the wisdom-sharing of others!!) where I try to observe these emotions and experiences in a non-judgemental way, and I try to discover the wisdom in them. I also recognize that it’s not really about the clothing bank (or the bread. I once cried – weeped, really – over discounted loaves of bread).

In my clothing bank support (and occasional covid testing), I meet lots of folks from different states in Mexico as well as Venezuela, Ecuador, Haiti. Most of them are on the journey northward, hoping to get an appointment to cross the border into the United States and request protection. Some of them have been deported from the United States, either after an attempt to cross or after some time living there (in one gentleman’s case, 28 years). I met three men who had been walking in the desert for five days when la migra arrested them. I helped with Creole interpretation for a Haitian woman who left home after “they” – the gangs who have taken over parts of the country – threatened to kill her for not paying extortion fees on her beauty salon business. Her sister is a U.S. citizen and has lived in Florida for 27 years, so there they will reunite and she will try to start again. 

One of the other volunteers, Jerri, who is also assigned the kitchen-clothing bank rotation, asks me if I am getting what I expected/hoped for in coming to volunteer here. I love that question and I love that it is coming from her, who I just met a few days prior. 

“I don’t think I had that many expectations coming here, except that I was excited to see the operation, and I wanted to be useful where I could be.” Jerri insists that I should be shadowing the coordinators, the director, all of the folks who are working behind the scenes. She is definitely onto something, but right now I am needed to hand out clean pairs of used socks and the warmest sweaters and coats we can find, and so I internally resolve to re-evaluate my approach for the future.

It is odd that my focus has dwelled on the specifics of my own tasks while visiting an organization that feels so significant in my life as a Catholic person seeking to live out the radical hospitality of the Gospel and church teaching, but the answers to our questions hardly ever come as beautifully romantic, clear, profound epiphanies. 🙂 Sometimes, even when we set ourselves up for the best possible outcome, we experience disappointment. That is okay!

I went for a hike this morning with Tracey, one of the Sisters of Providence that has welcomed me into Casa Teodora in Rio Rico. She is young and we are talking about dreams. “My very first spiritual director told me that if I want to learn more about my desires, that I start journaling the dreams that I have each night.” Tracey explained that this was strange advice, considering she understood at the time that she never had dreams. With the advice of the spiritual director, she set the intention each night that she have a dream, and that she remember it. For two weeks after the conversation, she had dreams every night, which, she shared, were extremely helpful in discerning her deeper desires.

We started talking about dreams because I shared that I had two bad dreams two nights in a row that woke me from my sleep. And when I was younger, I very often had bad dreams, and could only remember the bad ones. “My spiritual director taught me that dreams are not meant to shame or harm us. They are there for our healing and wholeness.” I wonder how to incorporate my “bad” dreams into the spiritual reflections that I try to have with all of my other not-so-enjoyable emotional experiences. As an Ignatian spirituality practitioner once told me, everything belongs.

I recently read “The Whole Language: The Power of Extravagant Tenderness” by Fr. Greg Boyle, whose writing always delights me. The book is, largely, about healing. And healing, I think, is the pathway to connecting us to our deepest desires.

“At Homeboy, we don’t want healing to be deferred. Now is the time. Here is the place. These are the people you can walk with. It is precisely this culture of kindness that stimulates the body and soul to heal itself. Since we are all walking wounded together, it is only tenderness that is mutually transformational. It can lead us all to awakened hearts.” (p. 175)

At Kino, there is energy and money and time spent on this effort. There are weekly, two hour psychology workshops for the adults that provide people with tools to manage some of the symptoms they may be facing as a result of the instability and trauma that is occurring in their lives. They have access to a psychotherapist, a social worker, workshops, and job-search assistance. Ushering people towards their dignity, which has, in most cases, been repeatedly abused or neglected, is a powerful and radical act. Even though all of these people are in transit, many hoping to enter the United States to seek asylum, Kino recognizes that “now is the time.”

February 26, 2023

It is 8:43 am. I am pulling off the freeway in search of the pin that Tracey, the Sister of Providence who is, along with two others, hosting me in Southern Arizona, dropped where there is supposedly a dirt lot with free parking right beside the Mariposa port of entry. During the drive it was raining hard, and as I am pulling off the road to park, it begins to snow! I am not dressed for snow and I am laughing because I am in the desert and yesterday it was 67 degrees. 

The walk to the comedor is longer than I anticipated, so my shoes get thoroughly wet. I am wandering down an endless outdoor corridor that is a mix of dirt and gravel which is visually and environmentally nice but gets in my shoes. It weaves and wanders and I wonder if, when, I will pass through an office to present myself and/or my passport. I pass through the open gate in the border wall and immediately the pathway ends, interrupted by unfinished construction. I walk into the street where the cars pass inspection and look for the pedestrian pathway. There is a sidewalk but it leads to a dead end.

“Disculpe, donde debo pasar?” I ask a person off in the distance who may be a customs agent or national guard – I wasn’t paying close attention. They gestured me towards a path in front of the little Aduana offices where people can (theoretically) apply for “permisos” or declare goods. I am mostly walking on this sidewalk to avoid the flooded road – there is no turnstile or person waiting to ask me who I am. At the end of the building I get back into the street and cross the road. I double check google maps that I am to go left, and as I turn the corner I see Kino. 

I present myself to the portero, who leads me to the kitchen and drops me off there. For about 5 minutes, I am chopping bell peppers that will be cooked and go into a salsa tomorrow with the chicharrones. In the kitchen is Hilda, one of the cooks, as well as Luz Elena, one of the Missionaries of the Eucharist who is the kitchen coordinator. There are also a few other American volunteers who are chopping with me. When we finish, it is time to serve breakfast, so I stand outside and give people tortillas with my bare hands. We are serving eggs scrambled with peppers, tomatoes and onion, and frijoles. I switch to the plate serving when most of the people have eaten and some of the early morning volunteers depart.

After cleaning up the breakfast routine, I was put to work cutting beef. It had been previously frozen, so was a bit cold, and the Hermana told me that my fingers might freeze. 

“Está bien si picas la carne, o eres vegetariana?” she asks me while we are hovering over the giant bag of meat in the sink. “I am a vegetarian, but I don’t mind cutting meat! I just don’t really know how to cook it.” I then explain that I am really a flexitarian – if I go to someone’s home and they serve me meat, especially from a different culture, I will humbly eat it, but I don’t buy it or prepare it for myself.

I slice the raw beef and the Sister puts cumbia music on. Since it is my first day, I have no idea what to expect – I haven’t really received a tour or an explanation, but the meat cutting is important and I pray over it, that it turns out delicious and puts big smiles on peoples faces. A good meal can (and should!!) do that.

I am volunteering at Kino Border Initiative, a now 15-year-old organization that began as a hot-meal and first aid center for people deported from the United States (Centro de Atención al Migrante Deportado) operated by the Missionaries of the Eucharist, and is now sponsored by the Jesuits. (Check out their instagram!) One of the unique things about KBI is that it is one of few organizations that both accompanies vulnerable, marginalized peoples AND does advocacy at the local, regional, and federal level, which gives it a uniquely profound and well-rounded perspective. Their vision is migration with dignity.

Around 11:30 am, the volunteers come into the kitchen from around the building and start making plates for lunch. I make my own, sit down, and begin talking with some of them at the table. I explain that I come primarily to learn about the organization, to see how it functions, to be inspired by its programs and protocols. I tell one of the volunteers that I spent two years at Annunciation House, and her jaw drops. “You are way overqualified to be working in the kitchen here!” she says, and another chimes in. “If you want to learn best practices, you can’t spend your time here chopping onions.” 

I am humbled by their immediate reception of my ideas and my pilgrimage purpose. My “quest” as some have suggested :). In the few morning hours, I have actually learned quite a lot, although I know it is the tip of the iceberg. I have such a posture of not wanting to be a burden, of not wanting to inconvenience people, that I prefer to enter in as a nobody and do exactly what others see needs to be done. As the days go by, I know I will see more and hear more and learn more. 

At some point in our lunchtime I turn to my left where Fr. Ray, a retired Diocesan priest, begins asking me about my time at Catholic Charities. I pray that all of my former coworkers and the organization and the bishop forgive me, but I can’t help but talk about how much that job and work environment really hurt my mental and spiritual health. I talk about its negatives primarily because I believe it could be so much better. I talk about my journey, what I am trying to discover and uncover, and he tells me it gives him hope. 

He shares with me what he is doing (well, to be clear, he actually isn’t quite sure what he is doing, but is discovering as he goes) and how he is working in a seminary in Chicago. He will speak on a panel about his experience here very soon, and he is participating in the overhaul of a curriculum for the seminarians, which focuses on social doctrine. He tells me that a lot of the seminarians lean conservative, and one of their primary intentions for entering the seminary is to study doctrinal truth. This leads us into a conversation about who God is, and what the Church teaches, and the different theologies that exist, and mysticism. We talk about the church leadership response to LGBTQ peoples in relation to their identities, about Catholic ministries for people diagnosed with HIV and AIDS in the world (check out the podcast Plague). I am energized by the bustling space and so I talk a lot and probably too much. 

We serve some lunch to a smaller crowd, and shortly after we have Catholic Mass in the dining room. During the homily, the priest, Fr. Joe, talks about that we are in a desert, and Jesus was in the desert in the readings, and the emotional deserts of being in migration with unknown futures. At the end of Mass, he invites the people to share something they are grateful for with respect to Kino Border Initiative. Many mothers stand up and give thanks to God and the volunteers and the people. He asks if any men would like to share, but they remain shy. 

After Mass, we put the benches back under the tables and most of the volunteers pack up and begin saying goodbye. Fr. Ray comes back to me because he wants to stay connected. Since the people who were giving me guidance in the morning are now leaving, I decide that I will leave too, even though it is only 3pm and I don’t have plans. I walk outside to sunny, clear skies, and back down to the border crossing, filled with delight.