Sustaining the Fire of our Imaginations (English)

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.

With Hermana Luz Elena, a Missionary of the Eucharist from Guadalajara and the Coordinator of the Kitchen & Meals

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. 

A hand-painted cross depicting migrants riding the “Bestia” train, walking through the desert, Mary mother of God holding a deceased migrant next to the border wall, and Jesus carrying a deceased migrant child

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. 

A painting in the Nogales Art Museum by Lika: A Tear of Blood

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.” ?

Words of a Migrant — Translation: I LEARNED that God allows many things to pass in all of our lives, blessings and painful experiences too, and now I can give thanks for everything I have lived because it has made me a strong person, a faithful person, and I do not fear what will come because I know God will always be with me. Keep faith.

Volunteering with Kino Border Initiative Part 2

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. 

Photo of one row of the clothing bank

“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. 

The border wall that separates Nogales, Arizona from Nogales, Sonora

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!

A beautiful quilt hanging on the wall inside the shelter

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 arrived at this water-filled canyon and shared some snacks. Tracey shared with me her experience working as a community organizer in Indianapolis for 3 years. So much tranquility!!

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.”

“In this shelter, we embrace your story! All are welcome and we respect, value, and embrace each other.”
“…because God does not distinguish between one another. (Romans 2:11) There is no distinction between jew and greek, slave and free, man and woman, because all are one in Christ (Galatians 3:28)”

Volunteering with Kino Border Initiative, Part 1

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. 

The view from the Mariposa POE crossing into Mexico. The snow visited us twice in 0ne week!

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.

A mural in the Kino Border Initiative Comedor (Dining room) “Do this in memory of me”

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.

Singing with the “choir of birds” during Mass in the Comedor

First Month (Well, 6 weeks) of Travels Part IV: Tucson

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!! 

Blooming Ocotillo in Sabino Canyon <3
Nicky & I 🙂
A quilt in the chapel at Casa Alitas

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.

A 55-gallon permitted water station serviced by Humane Borders

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.”

A photo in the welcome room at Casa Alitas
“We welcome all languages and cultures”

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.

A Nogales cemetery which extends up the hillside
View from the KBI volunteer house roof

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.

First Month of Travels Part III: Ajo

(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.

View facing north from the restroom at a truck stop restaurant in Sonoyta, Sonora, Mexico
A mural that says “Migration, for all living creatures, is a move from scarcity toward plenty… from despair toward hope. Humans have their own migratory impulse, based on the same fundamental desire coded within all living things: survival.”

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.

Milk crates & buckets protect the aid from animals and weather
A gallon of water left for travelers “God is with you”

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.

Shirts that we screen printed that are sold for fundraising – order one online!

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!

Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument
Cabeza Prieta National Wildlife Refuge

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!

A mural on the outside of the humanitarian aid office
A painting I did of “the Barn,” a space used for respite for volunteers and visitors, also the site where Scott Warren was arrested in 2018 for providing humanitarian aid to two undocumented Central American men

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

First Month of Travels Part II: 4 days in Phoenix

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.

A quote posted on Tim’s classroom wall

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.

Hiking Piestewa Peak, Phoenix Mountains Preserve
Park near Clare & Tim’s House

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

First Month of Travels Part I: LA, Las Vegas, Flagstaff

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. 

View from Temescal Canyon, Freedom Trail

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)

Sitting at Fr. Greg Boyle’s office desk (Marcos told me to!!)

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!

With Lillian in Pasadena <3

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!!!). 

Arepa hecho con amor
with Johanna and Emilio

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…… 🙂

Searching for the light

Hello and hi from a girl on the move! I write today from my grandparent’s lovely abode in Huntington Beach, my first stop of a long pilgrimage I have only slightly planned. I come from 2 years and 2 months of delight in San Diego, a city I discovered is my favorite (!) in the whole world. 

My experience living and working in San Diego is so treasured – I loved my apartment, located in a bustling family-filled immigrant neighborhood, centrally located with easy access to all of the lovely, beautiful, and exciting places around the larger metropolitan area. I fell in love, there, with the place, the people, the sounds, the sights. I began an 18-month leadership program called the “Contemplative Leaders in Action” as a virtual cohort member, which I am still loving and learning from. I started learning Haitian Creole as I worked for 18 months with Catholic Charities, I started painting (by numbers, hehe), started learning to roller skate, donated my hair, went dancing a lot!! I took an online language course in Maya Kaqchikel, an Indigenous language to Guatemala. I visited friends in Florida, Denver, Maryland, Washington DC, Philadelphia, New York, El Paso, and Wisconsin, and made new friends in San Diego (thank you, Hinge!!). I worked the 2022 midterm election in the ballot remake department, and made lots of lovely connections, and sang karaoke at the end! I fell in love with being alive in a different way.

In my cubicle at Catholic Charities, Jan 2022
Visiting New York & New Jersey! June 2022

Somewhere along the journey in 2022, I began to feel the tugging at my heart to uproot myself again. It started in the first days of 2022 when I was driving through Arizona back to San Diego after spending New Years in El Paso with Annunciation House (my second home). Traveling through the endless hills of Saguaro, I was moved by the hope that I would be able to return to the desert and participate in desert aid (traveling into remote areas to leave life-saving supplies for migrants who may be crossing in need) (In 2021, the UN recorded 728 deaths of migrants crossing the U.S.-Mexico Border). 

Taking a stroll through Saguaro National Park in January 2022

As the months of 2022 unfolded, my ideas around this planted seed began to unfold as well, and soon I began telling people that I was going to start traveling again, and this time for a slightly indefinite amount of time, and specifically to discern my vocation, to try and cut out some of the noise so I could hear more clearly the call that the Spirit has for me, the invitation towards what kind of work I ought to do with my life. 

I was recently blessed with a send-off reflection from a community of mixed-religious women who are an important part of my spiritual community in San Diego, and one of the beloved Sisters of Mercy, Mary Kay, shared with us an excerpt from an Easter homily given by an Irish priest, poet, and writer John Donahue:

“One of the wisdoms of living a full life is to try and sense what it is you were sent here for and let the hindrances that block you from that fall away so that you can claim completely the life that was so generously offered to you…There are limitless possibilities within each of us and, if we give ourselves any chance at all, it is unknown what we are capable of.”

The story goes now that I am embarking on a cross-country pilgrimage through the Southwest, down to South Texas, and over to Florida. I will be visiting any and all loved ones that I know along these paths, and also meeting new people through my various networks of beloved community 🙂 and also spending time volunteering with different organizations along the way – offering the little help I can with the hope of learning so much more about community response to community challenges. I am always so deeply inspired by really radical shifts, radical ways of being, and so I hope to encounter that and live that as I move through this next year.

For any whose heart this may touch, I leave with you a prayer:

Loving Creator,

First, always, thank you for this day – another day of life – to experience laughter, to experience awe, to feel. I am so grateful to you for the blessing of now and the many treasures that lie here. Even the frustrations, challenges, disappointments – they don’t really stand a chance when I stop and look at the hummingbirds fluttering around, or the bright pink sunset, or the way some songs just make me dance. The bitterness of feeling sad, powerless, inadequate, alone, or frustrated is so easily sweetened by your grace, which warms my freezing heart, which softens my gaze, which opens my soul to being true, somehow. I love you and love how you accompany me always. It never ceases to amaze me if I just pay attention!

Even just feeling feelings is a blessing that I remind myself of frequently. Excitement, giddiness, sadness, compassion, determination, anger, sorrow, those are all signs that I am alive. I just want to show you how much your love and life mean to me – I don’t want to waste a moment of my precious time on this earth doing anything but what you desire for me, God! Of course, I do waste my time… I fail all the time, as the temptations to distract and wallow are plentiful…but what I really desire is to surrender my life to you, God. I will go wherever you send me, do whatever you want me to do. I pray that I can use my gifts to plant even a small seed, lay a small brick for the love story that is your Heaven, a place where the last are first, where love and justice reign. 

May I be sensitive and responsive to your whispers into my heart, Mother God, and may I continue to learn the way!

“Call it one of the mercies of the road: that we see it only by stages as it opens before us, as it comes into our keeping, step by single step. There is nothing for it but to go, and by our going take the vows the pilgrim takes: to be faithful to the next step; to rely on more than the map; to heed the signposts of intuition and dream; to follow the star that only you will recognize…” (A Blessing for Epiphany, Jan Richardson)

An Ordinary Hello – May 20

Hands encircled in prayer around a statue of Mary, mother of God, wrapped in light
Hands encircled in prayer around a statue of Mary, mother of God, wrapped in light

As I was enjoying the sweet sounds of Kacey Musgraves’ voice watching her play live acoustic from home, I realized how much I love this moment, and so I thought I would share it with you.

I am currently sitting in the Casa Vides office, named after Adolfo Perez Esquivel, an Argentine activist who opposed their last civil-military dictatorship and won a Nobel Peace Prize. I am wearing knee length jean shorts, a coral striped short-sleeve, and my (smelly) chacos, with a black and white and red face mask tied around my neck. It is hot and I am sweating, but a black clip-on fan spins above me into my face and dries my eyes in this windowless closet. 

I came in here to write a scripture reflection for my former university’s campus ministry page, and have just finished my rough draft reflecting on the readings for May 28th. I am amazed by Paul in Acts 22 when he is visited by Jesus in a bright light and immediately abandons his career as a bounty hunter of Christians to preach the truth of the Resurrection. It’s portrayed as a one day ordeal and boom he has a new life and does not look back. 

So here on the desk I’ve got the readings, my *Catholic Youth* Bible, my water bottle, empty coffee cup, and an empty glass that once held airborne. Then behind me, sticking out of the printer, is a “Timeline of CIA Atrocities” that I want to study, and to the right of the printer there are two books I have read/am reading, “Mastery of Love” by Don Miguel Ruiz and “The Blindfold’s Eyes: My Journey from Torture to Truth” by Sr. Dianna Ortiz, and finally a coloring book by artists against deportation that I just printed off that a former classmate posted on Facebook, called “#FREE THEM ALL.” (download and donate here!)

I am listening to Kacey Musgraves because her voice is very buttery and is cheering me up in these difficult days. Now it has turned to her Christmas songs, which are oddly comforting (sometimes I dabble in Holiday music in the early summer ^.^).

I know that people are feeling restless, confused, in despair. Without a clear way forward, we are all trying to do what we think is best, which may not be even what is good, but I am not one to claim I know all the answers so I try, in moments of reflection, to release my judgement. 

The invitation continues to present itself to all of us people of faith and good will to listen to the Spirit who may be calling us into a deeper relationship with ourselves, with one another, and with the Earth. I personally have been trying to think about how I can center love in all that I do. In the way I speak to others and handle conflict, in the way I speak to myself in the quiet moments, and in the way I proceed with my job search, always looking for the light of Christ to lead me. 

For those that know me, I can be cynical and tragedy focused and sarcastic and dry. I always know there is a time and a place to speak to power, to raise awareness, to call out sin as it manifests so prominently in today’s society – greed, exploitation, indifference to suffering. But I also know there is a time and a place to hold oneself in prayer, to laugh uncontrollably while doing the dishes, and to put on some feel-good music and say “I am glad to be alive” because even though I am sweating and the children are blowing a loud whistle and spreading their toys across the floor, and even though there is deep suffering and injustice all around us, I know at least that God is very alive and working miracles in every moment and the sun will set tonight and grace these big Texas skies with a painting that will take my breath away. 

A recent sunset bursting with the fire of the Holy Spirit!
A recent sunset that was mesmerizing!

Sending love, peace, and health from West Texas to you all!

Reflecting in the time of COVID-19

Sunrise in the time of global sheltering in place
Sunrise in the time of global sheltering in place

Warning: Long Post Ahead! I encourage a cup of coffee or tea and a nice fireside background. Lying in your underwear in bed or sitting in the car at the grocery store building up courage to go inside will do.

Imagine four white women. Two Irish religious sisters and two American lay people. Three senior citizens and one 20-something. Three morning people and one night owl. Two sarcastics and two non-stop workers. Four volunteers who are trying to run a shelter that contains only one family during the COVID-19 pandemic in the quiet city of El Paso, Texas sitting around a picnic table at 9:45am on a warm spring day. 

As I am sure is true for most households around the globe, we are musing about the impacts that the virus might have on our own community.

“I am happy to be cremated – spread my ashes wherever,” says one of the sisters, an 80-year-old going on 50. 

“Me too,” says another elder who says her children support her from far away. “You can spread me beneath the Franklin Mountains.”

“Um excuse me, that is not okay with me! I do not want to see you die and I do not want to spread your ashes anywhere!” I say, laughing and serious at the same time. The possibility of this is a reality that we have all been wrestling with for a few weeks.

“You can wrap my body in a blanket and dig a whole in the backyard,” says the eldest of us all, partially facetious, mostly serious.

“No!” I say, pleading with them that this is not necessary. I laugh while hoping this is not really the plan for these ladies. 

One of the volunteers (and my co-lay person) has buried her two husbands – she tells me she always liked “older foreigners” – and she started sharing about the ash-spreading ceremony she had for the later of her late husbands. 

“Isn’t that against church doctrine?” I say, genuinely curious since I have not really read up on the Catholic Church’s teaching on ash spreading. “I thought cremation was fine, but that the ashes should stay together?”

“I don’t believe in all of the church’s doctrines” she quickly replies. “I asked God and she said it was okay.” 

I start laughing. I am blessed to be in the presence of these three strong, experienced women – who are so close to God and so close to me and the present and the holy ground we walk on. Then the conversation moves to an unveiling; Apparently, in busy funeral homes, large numbers of the deceased might be cremated at once – meaning, the bag of ashes you get for your grandma may very well be the neighbor from down the road whose name you never learned. The conversation progresses.

“Do you believe in the doctrine of discovery?” asks the eldest of the group, conversationally. “That European nations had the calling from God to dominate new lands and ‘civilize’ heathens?” 

“Oh, I don’t believe in heathens,” she replies, a former Peace Corps member and Maryknoll lay missioner. I know that none of these ladies hold a Savior or Paternalistic complex. In fact, they have each been converted by the people they’ve worked with in Latin America, not the other way around. 

Then we turn to the third elder who is not responding to the cheeky conversation.

“Do you see all of these wrinkles on my arm?” she says, looking down at the evidence of decades of hard work and wisdom. We all burst into teary laughter.

These are my coworkers, my colleagues, my roommates during this quarantine. I can promise anyone on the outside that there is never a dull moment in this house.

Since the spread of the COVID-19 pandemic, things have turned eerily challenging around here. Many volunteers have gone home to protect themselves and the community from exposure and to be with loved ones. Visitors and all educational tours have been cut off, as well as community members who were previously donating their time. The border policy has changed yet again; every single person who attempts to cross the border between ports of entry (in other words, cross the river, jump the wall, or come through the desert) is being ‘expelled’ (which is neither deportation nor voluntary removal, but a third thing that does not require any length of “detention time”).  People’s fingerprints are taken in an open air facility, their criminal history (if any) is reviewed, and they are walked back across the border into Mexico. It does not matter if they are from Mexico, Chile, Guatemala, Cuba, China, Angola… because we are undergoing a global health emergency, we do not need to follow traditional international protocols. We say, once again, that Mexico can deal with it (which, by all of my accounts, is an absurd and irresponsible lie).

The reality of this pandemic is tragic and difficult for everyone (except, perhaps, Mother Earth); people of every age, race, class, and nation are being affected. Of course, not to the same extent (by any stretch), but it has got us all who do not perform essential jobs on lockdown. 

My heart is so heavy for all of the health care workers who are fighting so hard against this tidal wave of infection. I imagine that is so stressful, scary, and painful – seeing so much death in people who were once seen as healthy and safe from harm. It is also heavy for all of those around the whole wide world who do not have emergency funds at hand and who are hungry, in this very moment, because they were living paycheck to paycheck before losing their jobs. I think of all those who live with mental health conditions, as well as addictions, who found respite in group therapy, work, and community events, and are now stuck at home left to face their burdens alone. 

I have also reflected on the relative luxury that I am living in now! Perhaps before, people saw the living conditions of Annunciation House volunteers as something sacrificial, humbling, ‘not for them’ (which is exactly what it is supposed to be, of course). Now, I bet that so many of my companions are jealous, because I have work to do, a stocked fridge, no expenses to pay, and a lot of space to do yoga, dance, build obstacle courses in the backyard, and a community of beautiful, funny, life-filled people to share the days with. 

Similar to how it has always been, all of my current needs are met here, and I do not have to worry that they will be taken from me anytime soon. That is a privileged state of being which has me wondering “didn’t I come here to forgo some of my privilege?” It has found its way back to me…

But, where I am wanting to go with this (stay with me) is in the way of an invitation to everyone who shares a similar existence of “met-needs” with me. My relatives, friends, conocidos, who have the freedom and privilege to stay home and know that there are reserves for more food, electricity, and healthcare. I want to ask you something. 

How are you spending this time?

What are you choosing to do each day?

How do you feel about it?

Those of us who are in a state of waiting, who are not working tirelessly to slow this pandemic down and accompany those who are being affected by it, have an amazing opportunity to rethink our whole lives. We have the opportunity to re-imagine and reassess – to decide if the paths we walk are the ones we want to walk, or if we have somehow ended up on them, not remembering exactly how or when we came to be here.

We have the opportunity to reassess our relationships. How do we treat those who are close to us, and who are far away? How do we treat ourselves, and the creation that sustains us? Do we want to be different in our relationships, do we want to go deeper, do we want to be more forgiving or kinder or listen more?

As a person of faith and as a Catholic, I am always challenged by the invitation and call by God and the teachings of my own church that every day is an opportunity to ask for forgiveness, forgive, and start again for the better. This includes my participation in the suffering of others, my complicity in the destruction of the earth, and my own apathy to the injustices that abound. To me, self-improvement must exist in relation to others and to the earth, since my humanity is interdependent on that of others and the Creator. 

I have observed that so many of the neighbors around me do not see this invitation or calling, whether they are faithful or not. They spend their free time distracting themselves from pain, trauma, loneliness, an ever present need for mercy. It is really a part of our societal fabric to use the things around us – work, entertainment, and pleasure – to wedge a divide between us and our deepest-selves. We avoid asking ourselves how we truly are, or when we know, we are tempted to make it worse, believing we are unworthy of joy, peace, or healing. 

In our busy, non-stop, activity-filled days, it is very common to normalize behaviors that are selfish, toxic, and dismissive of our neighbors and the earth beneath our feet and the very air that we breathe – despite the reality that we depend on every single one of these elements to survive. We do not listen to the commands of prophets who have preached love, dignity, compassion, and justice for the oppressed. We do not listen to the Indigenous peoples of the world who have been saying for generations how we are destroying the world with our oil consumption and the pollution that results from a neo-liberal capitalist economy which does very little to protect the limited natural resources we depend on. We do not even listen to the silenced cries of our brothers and sisters who we pass by, asking us for food, money, or companionship. 

But if we go through history, if we go through religious texts, if we read the wisdom of philosophers and theologians and those who have dedicated themselves to going deeper, to understanding life and the fragile ecosystem we maintain, we know that our lifestyles are not in line with what we were created for. Our unbridled appetite for pleasure, for “better days,” for greater success and happiness is simply not good if the world around us has to crumble as a result. If the oppressed of all nations must work to provide us with the luxuries and pleasures of our lifestyles (which includes our produce, our coffee, our sugar, our clothing, our technology – I am not just talking about diamonds here…) and we are okay with that, then we are simply not in line with the God who created us, with God’s chosen people. 

You might be thinking, Brinkley, what the heck are you talking about? Or, what the heck do you know?

It is fair for anyone to think I do not know what I am talking about… I do not know much after all, and each day is a learning journey. But, from what I know, I am sure and certain that this pandemic can be a second chance for everyone of us to transform our lives (since a lot of us require something drastic to see that kind of change through). Starting with personal reflection, we have to work away our ignorance, we have to think through our choices, we have to use the privilege and resources we know to change our very lifestyles and plant seeds of renewal and hope and commitment to future generations every step we take. That is the way forward, I think, in case you were wondering.

If you are still wondering, wait, wasn’t I just reading about an 85-year-old Irish nun in a floor length red nightgown? Me too.

If you are still wondering after that, “how do I know what questions to ask? How do I know where to begin to change my lifestyle?” (I am a wishful thinker!), I have included some questions from the Examination of Conscience from the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops that may guide you (Catholic and Christian and Muslim and Jew and Agnostic alike) (and continually guide me) to find where the need for forgiveness is and where you might dedicate energy to seek change. These questions are in light of Catholic Social Teaching.

Am I committed to both protecting human life and to ensuring that every human being is able to live in dignity?

Do I live in material comfort and excess while remaining insensitive to the needs of others whose rights are unfulfilled?

Am I disproportionately concerned for my own good at the expense of others?

Do my purchasing choices take into account the hands involved in the production of what I buy? When possible, do I buy products produced by workers whose rights and dignity were respected?

Do I see all members of the human family as my brothers and sisters?

Do I litter? Live wastefully?  Use energy too freely? Are there ways I could reduce consumption in my life?

Are there ways I could change my daily practices and those of my family, school, workplace, or community to better conserve the earth’s resources for future generations?

I know that is so much to think about and so many questions to reflect on. It can be overwhelming to find a place to start. Some maybe are thinking, “I have my own problems to deal with. How can I begin to think about others?” That is fair – some of us are more free to venture out than others are. But wherever you can begin, even if that means considering how your own dignity needs more cultivating, is a worthy place to start.

I encourage you to pick two or three that strike you, and go deep on them. Journal, discuss, do more research, and commit to using this opportunity of having extra time. Rather than waiting for change to come, be a part of its coming. This is a question of love and of life, of self and of community. We are all together in this, which this pandemic may have helped some of us realize. If we make it out alive, I hope we can come out on the other side with a new vision for what life on this planet could be.

And, like my honest and cheeky and tender roommates, don’t forget to seek humor and laughter along the way!

 

I would love to be your companion in this journey! 

With love and gratitude,

Brinkley

An empty El Paso road in the time of global shelter in place
An empty El Paso road in the time of global shelter in place

P.S. From the words of the opening title “balance (mufasa interlude)” to the album “Lion King: The Gift,” (which I can’t seem to stop listening to….)

“Everything you see exists together in a delicate balance

You need to understand that balance and respect all the creatures

From the crawling ant to the leaping antelope

We’re all connected in the great circle of life”

Some more goodness from Beyonce and this album: “Spirit” + “Bigger” Extended cut from Disney’s The Lion King

“Let love be the water I pour into you and you pour into me, there ain’t no drought here”