Month: June 2023

Back in Early May

It is the afternoon before I am to leave El Paso for San Antonio, and I am sitting with the (most amazing) Sr. Bea Donnellan for the first time since I arrived at our once common home. We are just crossing paths for one day because she has been at her motherhouse since I came to town, but we share a treasured afternoon. We are in the volunteer “sala” at Casa Papa Francisco, and I am telling Bea all about my pilgrimage, where I have been and what is planned for the coming days.

“I am staying with two sisters of Mercy until May 18th, and after that I don’t know where I will stay! I have been trying to find a place in Brownsville but haven’t had any luck.” That I only know my exact accommodations two weeks ahead of time is not new on my pilgrimage, but for the first time I have less than two weeks planned ahead, and so I am a little bit more nervous and mention it to everyone who gives me their ear.

Sr. Bea picks up her phone, goes into her contacts, and makes a phone call. “Therese darling, how are you?” she asks the person on the other end. It is Sr. Therese with La Posada Providencia, an immigrant and refugee shelter in San Benito, Texas, not too far from where I will be headed. A brief conversation ensues and within 5 minutes I am guaranteed a place to stay for an additional 3 nights. I am overjoyed!

Rio Grande Valley, continued…

I arrive to La Posada two weeks later, sweating and in need of a bathroom after spending the morning in Reynosa, MX at Casa del Migrante. That morning, we celebrated Mass in the large patio of the shelter and at least 10 different nationalities were present in the group. After mass we spent about 90 minutes playing hilarious and high energy games with groups of children and their parents. I was in charge of the blue team – about halfway through our games, I bent over to pick up a fallen toy from the ground and my pants split in two!

At first I heard it, a loud and unmistakable ripping sound. Then I felt the breeze! Thank goodness for the oversized t-shirt I was wearing, or I would have flashed all of the women sitting behind me. Through the excitement and chaos, one of the Daughters of Charity (the nuns who operate the shelter) took me to a back closet where the donated pants were stored. Within minutes I was properly clothed once again and made it back to my group in time for clean up and taping drawings of Jesus’ ascension into Heaven on the walls (you can imagine how funny those drawings are)!

After crossing back over into Texas, I drove the 45 minutes to La Posada, so by the time I arrived I was sweaty and exhausted. Sr. Therese popped out of a meeting, greeted me, and showed me to the ESL classroom. “I have a student waiting for me to return from the meeting, do you mind working with him?” Within a minute, Melvin was reading English paragraphs to me and we were chatting about his childhood in the mountains. 

Those three days were a beautiful respite and oasis. The shelter grounds are a bit out of town and so there are enormous trees and so many birds and space for an abundant garden. They are able to compost all of their food scraps and use the soil to grow produce for the meals. On one of the mornings we sorted through recycling before a volunteer came and picked it up. 

On my third day there, I was invited to South Padre Island by two new friends and spent the afternoon (in delight!) at the beach. The sky was overcast but the water was warm, and we danced the night away. I felt a bit guilty for staying the night out of Sr. Therese’s house during such a short visit, but the time with my new friends was so special because we connected so well and sometimes that is the invitation in the moment and thank God I am such a flexible and easily accommodated person because it just allows me to be gifted with the most serendipitous adventures!

Houston, my last Texas adventure (for now!)

After San Benito, I officially departed from the U.S.-Mexico Border to Houston. I suppose this was the start of the second of three chapters of pilgrimage (First chapter along the border, second Texas, Georgia, & Florida, and third Mexico & Central America). In Houston I was received by Martha & Rick, long time friends of my mom from when she was a teenager. Their generous hospitality allowed me to connect with Casa Juan Diego, the Catholic Worker House in Houston that I had heard about for years and dreamed to visit!

Casa Juan Diego typically only accepts out-of-town volunteers for 3 months or more, but I was able to show up in a perfect transition time where they were in need of extra hands and felt comfortable allowing me in due to my previous experience and language skills. The first day I arrived, I sat with Louise Zwick, the co-founder of the house, and she shared with me all of the things they do. Food distribution, rental assistance for sick and injured immigrants, sheltering, free health clinic, prescription assistance, a cooperative that employs the male workers, a newspaper !! There are not very many places in the world, I suspect, that have the Catholic Worker ethic, and I felt so privileged to be able to witness and be a part of one for those 10 or so days that I was in town. 

Thank God that Louise is a writer and so she has written and co-written with her late husband, Mark Zwick, some books about the Catholic Worker Movement and Casa Juan Diego. In the pages of “Mercy Without Borders: the Catholic Worker and Immigration,” they chronicle their journey to founding the house together and the events that ensue. Frequently, theology of the gospel is mixed in:

“We have searched the Scriptures and have not been able to find any time when Jesus required identification from the people he helped…the day we start requiring hungry people to prove their legality is the day the Gospel is denied.”

I found myself challenged at Casa Juan Diego not because they are offering so many different forms of assistance that the volunteers never seem to have a break but because some of the daily-life tasks seemed to suffer as a result (think sticky floors and dirty dishes). I managed to get stuck in the small stuff while all of this magnificent and miraculous big stuff was going on around me! That’s what I get from visiting so many different places who are doing similar work – we start comparing, a little too much, when no one even asked us, and it robs us of our joy! And yet this experience invited me to reflect on the deeper underpinnings of the spirit of this particular Catholic Worker house which had a revolving door of incredibly hard working, kind-spirited, dedicated and spiritually free volunteers, most local to Houston and two year-long live-ins from out of town.

I got stuck in the minutiae but did not stay there, thank God! Instead of wondering whose job it was to sweep and mop the floor, I started to do it (and two people showed up to help once I began). Instead of wondering who was going to finish the dishes or start the load of laundry or make the coffee, I helped where I could! And that was my time here – mostly filling in the blanks where I saw them. I taught 5 consecutive English lessons to some of the women and children, picked up a mom and her new baby from the hospital, and helped organize the diaper storage. 

Pause. I am sitting in the Miami Dade library typing this when a woman approaches me. I have been here for maybe an hour and a half. She tells me “I saw you when you were walking into the library. Your energy, your countenance, your expression, was peace. Whatever you are doing, God be with you. Be blessed.” This after a random man in the church parking lot bought me breakfast. Hello Holy Spirit!!! I only ask for a bed to sleep in and I will do the rest!!!

Okay, going back to the Catholic Worker house… I could go on for days. I am so grateful for the brief moment on the journey that I shared with the wonderful people there, singing songs in the men’s shelter during Mass, talking about Salvadoran politics at the breakfast table, reading writings by Pope Francis and discussing them as part of the work… (Please read this!!!)

What is freedom?

“The freedom of the Gospel is quite different from rugged individualism or doing whatever we want. It involves a revolution of the heart that cannot be suffocated by the forces of comfort, possession, pleasure, egotism, and narcissism. The freedom we have to do good, to create a world where it is easier for others to be good, is quite different. Catholics do not have to wait for orders from Rome to begin washing others’ feet, to be “go-givers rather than go-getters.” We do not have to act in the bureaucratic way that has become a model or be afraid of doing something different…” Mercy Without Borders, 104

Here, Mark and Louise speak to the freedom that I have leaned into deeply on this pilgrimage. I have financial freedom that allows me to stop working for upwards of a whole year with a few dollars in the bank to fill my gas tank (and get new brakes and pay for Miami street parking), but more than this I have been cultivating, for years and with some success, this type of spiritual freedom that is unshackled from any socio-cultural expectations or pressures, from attachments to material goods or comfort or luxury; that is unafraid of doing something different. And this freedom is so beautiful, such a profound and meaningful foundation from which to choose and love and work and exist!! And maybe some are under the impression that it has to do with being religious, or maybe just avoiding the drudgery of the 40-hour-work-week, but I swear it is just me trying to clear everything out of the way to get to my own heart, where the Creator’s invitations are. One of my friends recently said that my posture towards listening to God’s invitations has the energy of “running up to the mail delivery person at the mailbox.” She is gifted at making accurate comparisons.  

So somehow this stop on my journey was spiritually very affirming, educational, inspiring, clarifying. Though many of my days on this pilgrimage are somewhat ordinary, complete with my own personal insecurities and doubts, somehow I am graced with experiences like this one that affirm the compass I am trying to follow, that illuminate my path as I delve into the unknown. And each of these encounters in South Texas and Houston, along with all of the rest, are deepening my conviction to a life of vocational work centered on building community, welcoming and healing — on responding to the voice of God, to the most wise teachings of the church and other spiritual traditions, to the Pope!!!

“In whatever place we decide to build our future, in the country of our birth or elsewhere, the important thing is that there always be a community ready to welcome, protect, promote and integrate everyone, without distinctions and without excluding anyone. Only by walking together will we be able to go far and reach the common goal of our journey.” – Pope Francis, For the 109th World Day Of Migrants And Refugees 2023

Stay tuned for some reflections on my brief stops in Mobile, Alabama, Atlanta, Georgia, and New Port Richey, Florida leading up to where I am planted now for the next two months, Miami! 🙂

June 4, 2023 – Greetings and joy from the Convent of Mercy retirement home in Mobile, Alabama! I find myself here for the night after driving 7 hours from Houston on my way to Decatur, Georgia, another 5 hours away. I am three months overdue for a proper update on this beloved journey of mine! 

If you will forgive me, I will attempt to summarize the past three months in the best way I can. In early March, I arrived to El Paso, Texas with so much excitement, eagerness for familiarity and rest, and a big question mark on my schedule. I stayed with the Marist & Maryknoll community for the first month in the lovely bedroom off the dining room (complete with sliding barn doors, my own bathroom, and easy access to the coffee machine straight from my bed!). For the second month I was blessed with hospitality at the Columban Mission Center.

During those two months, I delighted in delicious food and the presence of inspiring human beings and I started working as a no-prior-experience server at the Village Inn. I got to accompany a group of Seminary students on a trip to Palomas, Mexico where we ate a delicious potluck and purchased the beautiful artisanal goods from the women’s cooperative who received us. I attended Mass in two different migrant shelters, spent the night on the couch at a third, and got to experience a proper Mexican “Way of the Cross” in Anapra, Juarez, which is of the most impoverished, violent, and stigmatized neighborhoods in the city, where I had the extraordinary opportunity to walk with people whose daily life experiences reflect the continual crucifixion of Christ in our world today. 

I reunited with people I had not seen since the start of the pandemic, camped in Big Bend National Park, and assisted with translation for a pro-se asylum application for a Venezuelan couple and their daughter.

It was a true gift to be able to go back to this place which is so so special to me in a different, slower way, and to sort of just dwell in the inspiration and the emotion of it all!

From El Paso I drove the 8 hours over to San Antonio, where I was greeted with the warm, moist air of the Texas grasslands. I stayed in an AirBnB for three nights so I could have some solitude for the closing retreat of my Contemplative Leaders in Action program, and it was soo lovely! I turned my phone off for just under 48 hours and prayed. On my third day in town I found Sr. Rita at the mother house of the Sisters of the Holy Spirit and Mary Immaculate. Here is a journal entry from that day:

May 7, 2023: Sr. Rita and I are sitting on a bench in the outdoor patio at the Holy Spirit Convent, each drinking a cup of tea. We are talking about politics and division and fear in our communities since there were two really tragic tragedies today in Texas. I ignorantly asked her if she had seen the news yet, even though it was already past 3pm. “Yes of course, so sad,” she says as we look on at the trees dancing in the breeze and the water dripping from the rain gutters. It is humid but, thanks to the rain clouds, not too hot outside. 

“The whole Republican party is beholden to the NRA,” she says, among so many other things. We are lamenting the shooting in Allen, Texas when a bright red bird begins to bathe in the fountain on the other side of the patio. “Wow, look at that bird!” I say, amazed at how it splashes around. 

Rita replies “Well that is a male cardinal. He must have a date, he’s getting all cleaned up.” I must confess I am charmed by her Irish accent.

We first met about a month ago when I was visiting Casa Papa Francisco, one of Annunciation House’s hospitality homes. Her energy is warm and welcome, and I share with her my journey and ask her about her own. After 20 years of teaching high school math and 10 more working for her motherhouse, she went to Mexico for another 20 years to work in a school in Nayarit. She is finally entering her retirement years (she is, as they say in Spanish, in her third age) but still offers herself as a volunteer from time to time.

At one point, Sr. Rita goes inside to attend to a matter and I am left enjoying the patio and scrolling through my messages. Another sister walks out, stops, and just looks at me. 

“I’ve found an ice cream and I’ve come outside to enjoy it,” she says, and continues past me. This woman is also speaking with an Irish accent, for your information, so naturally I am fascinated by this exchange also.

The birds in the grasslands part of Texas where the air hugs you and the green is lush are singing so loudly all day. It is so beautiful and has such a different energy that I can’t quite explain.

On my way out of the mother house, Sr. Rita takes me to the kitchen and makes me a care package with apples, oranges, bananas, and yogurt. She offers me juice but I decline. “Are you allowed to be taking this?” I ask since we are sneaking around the kitchen while the workers are taking their break. It is a large facility and since all of the sisters are in their third age, the kitchen and other essential duties are staffed (there is even a hair salon onsite!). “It is my house” she says with a bit of a chuckle. Of course there are 40 other women, more or less, who live here, but who’s counting.

“Do you have any advice for the younger generation?” I ask to try to move us out of the heaviness of our conversations about politics, guns, gerrymandering, and people who are becoming violent as a result of the lies they hear on extremely biased news sources.

“Keep on peddling” she tells me as we hug goodbye.

After my visit with Sr. Rita, I make my way over to another El Paso connection Yvonne Dilling’s house who graciously receives me for another night in town before I head south into the valley. It is barely noon but we are talking about the 1980s and pilgrimages and cross-cultural relationships and theology. We go to the Greyhound Bus Station to volunteer with the “chalecos azules” Interfaith Welcome Coalition and offer advice, coordination, and basic-need supplies to immigrants passing through from the various border towns. There are a number of people who arrive to the station with no idea of where to go from there, and they are sent to a Welcome Center that is supposedly at full-capacity and has an overflow of around 100 people staying in the parking lot. I mostly give out some juices and sandwiches and learn about how the non-profits support people here, and Yvonne and I get some thai food in between our double shift. 

From San Antonio I venture down into the Rio Grande Valley where I am welcomed by two Sisters of Mercy, Patricia and Terry. Within a few hours, Patricia and I are laughing hysterically and making memories about Mongolian food and whataburger drive-thrus. I am so pampered, once again, with my own bedroom where I spend my evenings on the phone with my most supporting and loving partner, Antonio (which explains where all of my free time goes!).

While in the Valley, I spend a day with the South Texas Human Rights Center learning from Eddie and Nora and Chris and talking about the tragedy of missing migrants and people dying trying to cross the U.S.-Mexico Border. I visit the Team Brownsville/Good Neighbor Settlement House Welcome Center next to the bus station in Brownsville and support the distribution of clothing and hygiene items to recently released immigrant families and individuals. Sr. Terry takes me to see the Humanitarian Respite Center in McAllen, Sr. Pat takes me to visit the Arise Adelante office and eat a delicious meal with a group of university students from Misericordia U while listening to the testimony of one of the new staff members who recently arrived from Tamaulipas, Mexico, and I take myself down to the National Butterfly Center where I see lots of butterflies, birds, and a giant tortoise (and I drive along back roads in search of the gofundme border wall that is falling into the Rio Grande).

I am so grateful for all of the hospitality and accompaniment I have been graciously given on this journey. Each and every encounter that I have had deserves its own blog post, truly – if only I could keep up with my experiences, or my memory could store it all perfectly! And worse is that when I let the time pass me by without documenting, I end up simply writing a list of where I have been and missing the opportunity to delve more deeply into the ways these experiences have impacted me. But I trust that the time for more in depth writing will come eventually… 🙂

The Prayer of Catherine McAuley, the foundress of the Sisters of Mercy: My God, I want to always associate with you. Teach me to trust in you because I know that you love me. Help me to always search for your will, even if it is difficult. Empty my heart of all fear and anxiety. That nothing makes me sad that does not cause me to stray from you. Help me to always be full of joy because I know that you are my God and one day I will be with you forever.

Next up: Three more days in the RGV and two weeks in Houston with Casa Juan Diego (!!)