After Six Long Years

I took this video on March 2, 2018 in Nogales, Mexico.

Just a month ago I was still reflecting on my days exploring the U.S. - Mexico Border.

I mentioned in this post that the first stop after we crossed the border from Nogales, Arizona and Nogales, Mexico (originally a unified city now divided by a wall) was a small shrine. I stood with my "Welcome the Stranger" group on the very corner where José Antonio Elena Rodriguez was killed by the U.S. Border Patrol.

I stood where he stood in Nogales, Mexico and squinted to see the space in the wall from which the agent Lonnie Swartz fired 16 rounds. Watch the video above for this perspective.

We held hands together and prayed for a verdict that would finally give José Antonio's family the justice they so craved and deserved. José Antonio was killed in 2012.

And today, Tuesday, April 24, 2018, the Arizona jury reached a verdict . Not guilty.
Unfortunately, this NPR article omits his first name of José from the article.

A cross sits where Jose Antonio died on a busy sidewalk in Nogales.

Sustaining a heart of flesh

Photo credit: Rose Grengs

I keep coming back to the idea of where emotion sits in our bodies. Where do I really feel it? Do I allow myself to feel emotion, the deep stuff, on a regular basis?  The really deep emotion that's hard to move in and out of gracefully? Or do I smush it back down into my stomach? Is it that I really don't HAVE to feel emotions if I don't want to because of the place I happen to live, the privilege I happen to have? Or have I been normed that showing emotion is a sign of weakness? 

Where do the emotions of deep pain, fear, despair, shame, pain or joy show up on my body?

I can tell you where the emotions showed up while I was in the desert. At the first sign of life where someone had sought shelter in the very place I was walking drove a feeling in my body from head to toe and continued to stay in my chest as I walked. However I couldn't necessarily name the emotion. A combopack of many perhaps.

And even now as I'm trying to get deep in remembering exactly how my body felt while I walked in the arroyos of the Sonoran Desert, I'm munching on popcorn, drinking white wine, and trying not to switch away to my Nordstrom Rack tab that I currently have open. Wow. It's all too easy for me to avoid FEELING.

I am not obligated to write and yet I feel I cannot abandon my thoughts. 

As I look back at my photos, even the emotion I felt so strongly that Saturday is seemingly absent from the photos.

I stood in places where people were fighting for life; where people were in too deep to turn back; where women and men carried children across the desert under moonlight.

We found broken backpacks, weathered ponchos, a child's shoe, water bottles, food remnants, and clothing. Each item was only a clue to the perilous journey of its owner. Certainly no one would put themselves through the risk of crossing a border if their lives

were not in danger; if family were not at stake.

My emotion rode high as we walked. In my chest and up through my shoulders, even into my neck at times. 

If I sit back now and allow it, the feelings will come back. My breathing will quicken and go deeper all at the same time. I swallow more. The back of my throat feels different and there's a buzzing that occurs from my head to my chest. Feeling this is important. Feeling this makes me human and reminds me of the men, women, and children who feel these emotions without a choice. Daily. Hourly. Right now.

Again I am brought back to the Lenten message that the Catholic church has shared: Changing hearts of stone to hearts of flesh.

It is clear to me now. Is it clear to you? 



Ezekiel 11:19
"And I will give them one heart, and put a new spirit within them. And I will take the heart of stone out of their flesh and give them a heart of flesh." 

Special Thanks to No More Deaths and Arivaca's People Helping People. Both are humanitarian
aid organizations working together in the Sonoran desert and across the U.S./Mexico border. 

Reflections on Service and Solidarity

One of my colleagues today asked me a question. "How has your transition back to regular life been?" At first I was taken aback. I mean, I was only gone for four nights and four days. It's not like I'd have reverse culture shock (which unlike reverse racism is a real thing) or something.

So I thought about her question and responded with the idea that somehow my trip to the border had turned out to be just what I needed. That sounds selfish doesn't it? But really, it was retreat-like in the way that I met so many wonderful people, including some of the most inspiring and powerful women ever. I never had to rush. My days were planned for me and all involved deep thought, intensive listening, and the chance to stand in solidarity with the act of service. If you know me, you know this is an environment in which I can thrive.

One of the most profound moments came in our final hours of reflection. As we sat in Eileen's living room in Tucson, one of our Welcome the Stranger members read Rachel Naomi Remen's essay entitled, "Helping, Fixing, or Serving." I don't think I could have picked a more perfect reading. It was so poignant to our experiences throughout our time in Tucson, Nogales, and Arivaca. And it was poignant to some other things happening in my life right now as well as I am working closely with a new immigrant mother and son in the Twin Cities. 

If I can focus most on standing in solidarity with others and serving along side them, I will be able to let go of my need to fix and help.

Remen says it best in this segment, "Serving requires us to know that our humanity is more powerful than our expertise. In forty-five years of chronic illness I have been helped by a great number of people, and fixed by a great many others who did not recognize my wholeness. All that fixing and helping left me wounded in some important and fundamental ways. Only service heals.

Service is not an experience of strength or expertise; service is an experience of mystery, surrender and awe. Helpers and fixers feel causal. Servers may experience from time to time a sense of being used by larger unknown forces. Those who serve have traded a sense of mastery for an experience of mystery, and in doing so have transformed their work and their lives into practice." 

As you may imagine, Remen's essay is connected closely to Mother Theresa's philosophy of service as well as principles of Buddhism and thoughts around ego.

My four days with our Welcome the Stranger delegation and Loretto Co-members were full of service and acts of solidarity.  In Nogales we washed dishes side by side with recently deported men and women. We shared meals with children in need. We listened intently and took notes. We asked questions. We walked in the desert and distributed humanitarian aid. We held candles and sang in a vigil for people for have lost their lives crossing from one country to the next. And we broke bread together. Okay, I actually gave up bread for Lent but you know what I mean. 

We did not try to find a solution or solve a problem that is out of our reach. 

And so when Kathy read the excerpt below from Rachel Naomi Remen's essay, all the pieces fell into place for me. Do you struggle with the need to fix or help? 
If you have a few minutes more, read on. 

Serving is Different From Helping and Fixing

       English Hindi Spanish Tamil        

--by Rachel Naomi Remen (Mar 18, 2013)

In recent years the question how can I help? has become meaningful to many people. But perhaps there is a deeper question we might consider. Perhaps the real question is not how can I help? but how can I serve?

Serving is different from helping. Helping is based on inequality; it is not a relationship between equals. When you help you use your own strength to help those of lesser strength. If I'm attentive to what's going on inside of me when I'm helping, I find that I'm always helping someone who's not as strong as I am, who is needier than I am. People feel this inequality. When we help we may inadvertently take away from people more than we could ever give them; we may diminish their self-esteem, their sense of worth, integrity and wholeness. When I help I am very aware of my own strength. But we don't serve with our strength, we serve with ourselves. We draw from all of our experiences. Our limitations serve, our wounds serve, even our darkness can serve. The wholeness in us serves the wholeness in others and the wholeness in life. The wholeness in you is the same as the wholeness in me. Service is a relationship between equals.

Helping incurs debt. When you help someone they owe you one. But serving, like healing, is mutual. There is no debt. I am as served as the person I am serving. When I help I have a feeling of satisfaction. When I serve I have a feeling of gratitude. These are very different things.

Serving is also different from fixing. When I fix a person I perceive them as broken, and their brokenness requires me to act. When I fix I do not see the wholeness in the other person or trust the integrity of the life in them. When I serve I see and trust that wholeness. It is what I am responding to and collaborating with.

There is distance between ourselves and whatever or whomever we are fixing. Fixing is a form of judgment. All judgment creates distance, a disconnection, an experience of difference. In fixing there is an inequality of expertise that can easily become a moral distance. We cannot serve at a distance. We can only serve that to which we are profoundly connected, that which we are willing to touch. This is Mother Teresa's basic message. We serve life not because it is broken but because it is holy.

--Rachel Naomi Remen, adapted from a transcript in the Noetic Sciences Review

Rachel Naomi Remen, M.D. is Associate Clinical Professor of Family and Community Medicine at U.C.S.F. Medical School and co-founder and medical director of the Commonweal Cancer Help Program. She is author of the bestseller, Kitchen Table Wisdom: Stories That Heal.
Helping, Fixing or Serving?, Rachel Naomi Remen, Shambhala Sun, September 1999. 

Let me introduce you

Susanna, Leonardo,Tito, Sylvia

Let me share their stories 
with you.

We met Susanna at Nazareth House, a shelter for women with no where else to go once they are deported. Susanna spoke English without even an accent since she 

moved to Phoenix when she was eight yearsold. At 29 years of age now, Susanna is 

fighting her deportation case with a lawyer in hopes that she can get back to her four 

children, ages 13, 11, 6, and 1. Susanna didn’t apply for DACA status because she 

had been afraid, but in hindsight she wishes she had. 

She was picked up while driving her kids home for a traffic violation and that was the last 
time she saw her children. Susanna's 21 years of living in the United States and the 
knowledge that her four children would lose their mother didn't stop her deportation. 
She was stopped on February 4th and we met her on March 2nd. Susanna also leaves 
her husband and job as a dishwasher behind.

The eight women we met at the shelter spanned the ages of 21 to 61. Their stories were 
varied and their eyes were full of pain. Without Nazareth house, these women would be 
on the street and prey to cartel members who want to traffic women and/or drugs.

I met Leonardo while serving alongside the Missionary Sisters of the Eucharist and other 

Minneapolis delegation members at El Comedor. He told me to call him Leo (like DiCaprio). Leo was a framer for a construction company in Mesa, Arizona. We spoke in English since 

he had been in the United States for 15 years. He shared his story of getting pulled over for having a tail light out and realizing that he had forgotten his billfold that day as well. In an 

instant, he was put in jail and deported within days. He leaves behind three children and one on the way. Leo told me that he doesn’t have any money to pay the coyotes to cross back 

across the border, so he will have to find his Mexican family in a city he hasn’t seen in 15 

years.

Leo told me his story with tears in his eyes and then thanked me for listening and for being 

at El Comedor in solidarity with him. As our group exited El Comedor to walk back across 

the border to the U.S. side, Leo was talking to his kids on the phone in English and 

crying, “Put mommy on the phone sweetie. I know, just go get mommy.”

Tito is one of the directors of HEPAC*. He shared the mission and vision of this house of hope and peace and how his dream is for a better education for all children. 
Tito told us about the history of Nogales before it was divided 
first by a fence, then by a wall, and then by a bigger wall. 
A city that was once full of neighbors, mainly sustaining themselves on farmland and agriculture, was divided. 

Tito remembers playing volleyball with kids on the U.S. side of 

the fence when he was little.  The fence served as the net.

Tito told us about the 97 factories that took up residence in Nogales

after NAFTA and took up fertile lands, changed the environment, and exploited workers. 

In Nogales, running water has restrictions for homes.   

Sometimes it may only be available for a couple hours a day. While 

the factories face no restrictions and even have paved streets, 

constant electricity, and internet. Much of Nogales neighborhoods 

still do not have paved streets and owning a computer or having 

access to the internet is a rarity.

Tito stated plainly, “The humanity workers and the people of Nogales is not considered. 

TV’s, cellphones, and other THINGS can be brought back and forth across the border, but 

not people/employees.

Most factories pay their workers about 80 pesos per day. This is almost $5/day. 

More uncommon are the factories that are super proud of their wages because workers 
receive $8/day. 

What we often don’t realize is that regular items at the store have a cost very close to 
what the cost is in the United States. Toothbrushes, toothpaste, deodorant, feminine 
supplies, school supplies, etc can be completely out of reach for a large portion of the 
population. 

Tito also talked about the working conditions as he has toured factories where workers 
are in constant contact with chemicals without protection and no ear protection when 
working within very loud machines. And if someone gets sick, their medical insurance 
and support is cut off.

“I usually call this modern slavery,” Tito said.

And finally, let me tell you about Sylvia. I don't know much about her. I only know that from the moment Sister Alicia began speaking to the new group of deportees at the Comedor, she was in tears. She folded her hands tightly in prayer as her tears grew bigger and fell faster. Sylvia sat in a small cluster of three young women at the table closest to the tiny kitchen. Once her tears started falling, they never stopped. I knew her pain was too fresh to engage in conversation so instead I can only wonder. I wonder if she was a victim of the border patrol's practice of scattering or family separation. I wonder if she has been hurt or violated. I wonder if she will end up at Nazareth House.

Immigrants who cross the border have to walk several days through the Sonoran desert where depending on the time of year, temperatures can drop below freezing (at night) or soar well above 100 degrees during the day. The Border Patrol has many sophisticated sensors and tracking devices to track these undocumented immigrants, but the tactic of scattering (also called chase and scatter) means they purposely bring helicopters close enough to small groups of people in the desert so that they run in terror and get separated. This means people are alone in the desert and are more likely to get lost or even die. This also means that family members are often separated and belongings can be left behind. Another way to scatter is with horses so that the border control will force many to flee into the unknown desert while managing to capture some.

Family separation is also a purposeful tactic. This means that if family members are deported from the same court, they will purposely be brought to different cities in Mexico when released to deter them from crossing again. This leads to more emotional trauma, fear, and additional drain on financial resources to cross more miles before reconnecting. Additionally, if an undocumented immigrant is picked up near El Paso, Texas they may be released in Nogales, Mexico so that it is harder for them to find their original crossing and/or coyote. These are complicated methods that are difficult for me to describe, but the purpose is to separate family and deter immigration through emotionally and physically harmful practices. Is this really who we are?

I wonder what made Sylvia cross the desert border in the first place. Certainly her story must involve family in that she is either hoping to reunite in the United States or find work to support her family in Mexico. I do not know if Sylvia will try to cross the border again. If her desperation overtakes her fear, she may.

The stories of Susanna, Leo, Tito, and Sylvia are just a handful of the stories being told daily in places like Nogales, Mexico. These are real people. If you haven't met anyone who was recently deported or who has risked everything to cross the border from Mexico, perhaps these stories will help make these people a little more real.

HEPAC Community Garden

*HEPAC welcomes volunteers for the day or to stay on-sight to assist with everything from their garden to educating children and adults.

Desperation

To be honest, I'm too exhausted both emotionally and physically to truly reflect appropriately on my day in Nogales, Mexico with the 'Welcome the Stranger' border delegation. So I'll need to come back to today in the next day or two.

What I can do is ask you to reflect on a time when you have either experienced or witnessed desperation. What does it feel like? What does it look like? What would you do for yourself or for your family when you are in the midst of total desperation?

These questions bring me back to the WHY that was absent from the court system yesterday and the WHY that was so very present today when we heard over and over again from mothers and children at HEPAC, Tito when talking about José Rodriguez's death, women sharing stories at Nazareth house, and recently deported migrants at El Comedor. You can google any of the places and find our more about their mission.

I'm learning more about immigration law and changes that have taken place since the 90's, repercussions of NAFTA, the financial and emotional cost of migration and deportation, and the very real lives that are changed in an instant when a tail light is out or a workplace is raided.

One of my biggest Ah-ha's today involved water. As our group walked back over the border from Nogales, Mexico to Nogales, Arizona (once one city without a wall),  We walked out of the border patrol office and I immediately spotted a sparkling automatic drinking fountain and water bottle filler. How ironic that just steps away there is an entire company that cannot drink tap water and must boil or pay for drinkable water. Additionally there are often restrictions so that people may only have a couple hours of running water in a day. Of course these restrictions to not apply to the factories that have taken over the pastures of Nogales. Yet I am offered the privilege of my citizenship which also affords the privilege of clean drinking water within reach at a moment's notice.

Have I experienced desperation? No. No I haven't. And I think I know why.

Culpable.

I start writing tonight in the space where we ended. With a full moon over head, standing in solidarity small semicircle of solidarity to hold vigil around those who have died in the desert. We started by introducing ourselves. The woman who spoke last choked back tears as she shared, "I was lucky to be born on this side of the border." Since 1998, there have been thousands of deaths of economic migrants crossing the Sonoran desert. 

People holding candles represented groups like La Coalición de Derechos Humanos, Latina Leadership Institute at the Tucson YWCA, the Loretto Community from three states, and our Welcome the Stranger group from Minneapolis. As we said our good-byes, we whispered thoughts and prayers for the migrants we know are walking under a full moon tonight. 

Before our dinner at El Minuto Cafe, we visited Southside Presbyterian Church and heard from Amy Beth Willis, organizer for the National Sanctuary Movement. For a young soul, Amy Beth holds a wealth of information on the history of the sanctuary movement. She gave us a history lesson going all the way back to the text of Leviticus in the Hebrew Bible where the belief in cities of refuge were carried from Judaic tradition into Christianity. She walked us through each decade of the 1900's and referenced the role of the faith community with the underground railroad. The very church we were sitting in became one of the first

stops on the "modern underground railroad," also known as the sanctuary movement. The sanctuary movement of the 80's when thousands of people slept on the floor of the church looks different than it did in 2014 with the public sanctuary of Rosa Imelda Loretta. Rosa's kids were the same age as mine, 8 and 5, when she went into sanctuary. I can't even imagine.

And today the sanctuary movement is still alive and well with around 1100 sanctuary churches and synagogues nationwide. There is so much history and mission that I'm living out. If you're interest and/or you're in Tucson, look up Southside Presbyterian. Entering the small intimate space feel like you are walking on holy ground. 

I'm finishing up my blog today where our day began, at the Tucson Federal Courthouse, witnessing

Three of our fearless leaders.
Passionate women on a mission.

Operation Streamline in all its glory. For me, this was the most emotional and thought-provoking part of my day. Lois, from No More Deaths, met us at the entrance and gave us a history lesson on immigration policy, NAFTA, and her private prisons. She is extremely passionate about border issues and comes to these hearings often to stand in solidarity with the deportees as well as document any trouble-spots in the proceedings.

Thankfully, Operation Streamline was recently challenged in the 9th circuit court and for the time being, defendants do not have their arms and legs shackled when they enter the courtroom. They are also sent in seven people at a time rather than 70 all at once. We watched group after group get brought in front of a seemingly engaging judge. Women and men walked in quietly and lined up before the judge. Most looked exhausted and some looked young enough to be my high school students. In just a few minutes, these people went from migrants seeking reconnections with family or financial stability became migrants with a criminal history. One after the next, voices declared in Spanish, "Culpable." Over and over. The script never changed.

The judge never asked, "WHY." Why are you here? Why did you risk your life to cross this border? Where did you come from?" I can only imagine their answers. Their truth. What would push you to flee your country or origin?

Any personalization was left out of the proceedings. And for two hours we watched more than 70 people come before us. Culpable. Culpable. Culpable. These are mothers, brothers, daughters, sons, fathers, and grandfathers willing to risk their lives for a chance at a better future and/or reunification with family. Guilty as charged. Pleading guilty while one lawyer falls asleep and is awoke by a US Marshal. Guilty while one lawyer plays a game on her phone. Guilty while the judge reads his script over and over again. Guilty while the future law student sitting behind me states, "I think we can go after this batch is done." We must ask ourselves, who is truly guilty. All the money spent in that courtroom in one day to declare these migrants culpable and make sure they now have a criminal record. 

As we exited the courtroom, a few of us were able to ask a public defender a few questions and we learned even more about how quickly these men and women would be deposited in Mexico...as soon as tonight or tomorrow morning. They will be dropped off in a place far from where they crossed and likely separated from family they may have been with when they were picked up. 

Lee Mun Wah taught me that curiosity leads to compassion. It is this curiosity that pushes me to learn more. To do more. To fight for those who are tricked into a system where they are culpable.

Are you curious? Do you want to know more? Do you have personal connections to migrants crossing the southern U.S. border? 

We will cross the border tomorrow (Friday) at the Mariposa crossing and spend time with a women's shelter, HEPAC, and El Comedor. Stay tuned.

*My apologies for all the strange color formatting. I am way too tired to problem-solve this! 

Looking for Signs

I'm getting ready for a day ahead that will no doubt be filled with a multitude of emotions.
As I was taking a morning jog, I noticed this city sculpture and of course figured it was a sign.

People Helping People
Tucson, Arizona

But then I noticed another sign just a couple steps further that read: Christie's Cabaret, The Premier Gentlemens Club. So, I guess I'll recognize the signs that work for my mission and ignore the others!

I finally finished a previous book and dove into into A Land of Hard Edges, by Peg Bowden while on the plane yesterday. Ms. Bowden wrote this book all about her time volunteering at El Comedor in Nogales, Mexico and her experiences with migrants coming through on their way to the U.S. or returning from the U.S. Wow. I haven't gotten all the way through the book yet, but the details and stories she shares are vivid and real. Our group will be volunteering at El Comedor tomorrow (Friday).

In just a couple hours we are going to observe Operation Streamline at the Tucson Federal Courthouse. Here's an article about Operation Streamline.


Following our time in court, we will head to Southside Presbyterian Church which has been a leader in the Sanctuary Movement.

My hope today is to stay present and let myself feel all the feels, good, bad, ugly, and otherwise.

Getting Grounded

The wall divides Nogales, Arizona and Nogales, Mexico.

One of the ‘Welcome the Stranger’ co-chairs opened up our meeting last week by reminding us that we are all immigrants in this land and asked if each person could share who in our families is or was an immigrant?

And as we did a quick whip-around the room, about 20-25 people came up with these ethnicities:
Czech, Dutch, English, French, Irish, Italian, German, Guatemalan, Luxembourger, Mayan, Middle-Eastern, Norwegian, Peruvian, Philippines, Polish, Russian, Scottish, Slovenian, Swedish, Welsh

What a powerful way to start a meeting by bringing us back to our roots. This reflection on our own ethnicities also served as an introduction to a small delegation visiting from our Sister Parish in Tierra Nuevo II, Guatemala.

Pedro and Olga introduced themselves and shared their stories. Olga shared how her father was once a migrant in his own country as he moved around Guatemala trying to find work. Many times he would sleep on the street not wanting to spend extra money on lodging. While his wife and children waited for word of his work, they were often hungry. Olga shared that it is this hopelessness, despair and uncertain future that often pushed some friends and family turn to a life of crime. These were not “bad people,” these were people experiencing desperation. While speaking her truth, Olga’s tears streamed down her face turning our hearts of stone into flesh.
Then it was Pedro’s turn to talk. His story was similar but brief as he couldn’t say much without emotion overtaking him.

Although my trip to Nogales, Arizona and Nogales, Mexico is less than two weeks agway, Olga and Pedro helped to ground me in the importance of solidarity across nations, across borders, and within our hearts.

One more week to donate MONEY or STUFF to organizations like HEPAC, No More Deaths, or KINO Border Initiative. Message me for more information on how to get MONEY (cash or check) or STUFF (toiletries, school supplies, toothbrushes, cold weather clothing for children) in my hands ASAP.


We will march by the millions. We will tremble and grieve.
We will praise and weep and laugh. We will believe.
We will be courageous with our love. 
We will rush danger as we sing and sing and sing to welcome strangers. 
This is our song. This is our road to peace. 

-Excerpt from Hymn by Sherman Alexie, 2017

Welcome the Stranger

“We can’t teach what we don’t know and we can’t lead where we can’t go.”

-Malcolm X

When I tell friends and family that I’m taking a border trip at the beginning of March, there are many responses… Taco Bell? Canada? Minnesota/Wisconsin? And most often it’s just, “WHY?”

The U.S. /Mexico border. This is not a trip that many have the opportunity to take unless they are fleeing one side or the other. This is not a trip that I should say I’m excited to go on and yet I am. I need to educate myself and then, hopefully, others about what I experience, learn and observe.

I will be traveling with 9 other people who are part of a group called ‘Welcome the Stranger’ to Nogales, Arizona and Nogales, Mexico. We will walk from one country to the other and back again. I believe we all have our own personal reasons for being a part of this trip. What weaves us together is our belief in that no matter where we are from, there's more that unites us than separates us.

We will be connecting with a group called the KINO Border Initiative whose vision is “human, just, workable migration between the U.S. and Mexico.” We will also be working with the Sisters of Loretto whose mission is “work for justice and act for peace because the Gospel urges us.” In connecting with these groups, we will work at El Comedor to serve people who are newly deported or possibly gaining nourishment before crossing. We will support No More Deaths by replenishing water stations in the desert. We will witness court proceedings around persons who have crossed into the United States illegally. We will connect with a women’s shelter and visit a sanctuary supporting church.

Maybe some of you reading this are still really stuck on this whole border thing... as something more than an imaginary line drawn through the earth once shared by indigenous peoples. I get stuck, too. I do. And so I seek out information, research and personal stories.

Luckily, one of my friends from Peace Corps-Bangladesh, Reece Jones, is a professor of Geography at the University of Hawai'i and recently released his second book, Violent Borders: Refugees and the right to move (now available on Amazon). This is one book that I plan to read this month in preparation for my trip. Although the research often surrounds what is happening with Syria right now, it also applies to borders worldwide. In it, Reece states, “Borders that are open for corporations, capital and consumer goods but closed for workers and regulators are creating dramatic inequalities in wealth and opportunity within individual countries and at a global scale.”

There are many books that I’m reading in preparation for this trip (see list below) and I’m reflecting on personal connections.

What I know is that I have stared students in the face countless times knowing they are here to reunite with family and/or to flee the danger and poverty that enveloped them elsewhere. I have former students from Ecuador, Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, Mexico, and other countries who have crossed the U.S. Border as children. Some have been accompanied by other adults, some by paid coyotes, and others through a range of transportation methods and connections that seem so detailed, yet full of unknowns, and still some with stories that are filled with violence, trafficking, manipulation and shame. 

And, yes, I’m still talking about children. Ages 12-15. I have looked into the eyes of a young boy and known that if he were not in front of me and in the safety of Minnesota that he would be most likely be dead. I have seen chipped teeth on a young girl who tripped over rocks in the middle of the night in the desert. I have read personal poems and stories that reflect experiences and grit that far exceed the author’s age. At the end of the day there's a disconnect. I have travelled with a passport and no further questions about my annual salary or family ties to numerous Mexican and Central American cities while others struggle their whole lives to cross a border to reunite family and seek peace and prosperity.

I’ve heard family members and friends say that my students and their families should just “get in line” in order to migrate north to the U.S. I’ve even heard this on the news and in print. But there is no magical line. In order to come here from developing nations there are many exclusive factors and unique challenges. I’m not skilled in explaining them and thankfully have attended many talks by immigration attorneys and asylum and refugee organizations that I have given me more clarity.

Here are three quick references:

1 - https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/five-myths-about-the-immigration-line/2013/02/01/d30cf73e-6bb8-11e2-bd36-c0fe61a205f6_story.html?utm_term=.e9c0d6ea9b8f

2 - https://www.npr.org/2013/02/27/173056252/is-there-really-a-line-for-immigration

3 - https://www.cnbc.com/2017/02/24/heres-the-myth-about-being-an-undocumented-immigrant-that-drives-me-crazy-commentary.html

The truth is, I have heard so many stories but I still have no idea what my students and their families have gone through. They speak their truth and all I can do is offer my ears to listen and not judge. I can have compassion and try to understand how trauma can affect the ability of a child to learn and thrive, but I'm hoping this trip will help me have a better picture and stronger understanding of the people who are most often demonized.

So I write to work the details out in my head as best I can. I write to ask you, my friends, family, and maybe even the rare stranger who connects to my blog to consider a monetary or physical donation. Here's a list of the organizations and needed items.

Consider dropping off some extras… on my doorstep or work cubicle. Consider sending me cash with a designation for one of the linked organizations so I can deliver it in person. Consider adding my travel group to your prayers and, more importantly, to add the people who need and deserve compassion and peace to your prayers as well.

I will be updating my blog throughout my trip. I fly out on February 28 and return on March 4. I look forward to your comments and questions through this experience via my blog.

Booklist:
Migrant the Journey of the Mexican Worker by José Manuel Mateo
A Land of Hard Edges by Peg Bowden
The Only Road by Alexandra Diaz

Short Films/Documentaries:
An American House
Without Papers
Which Way Home
The Fence
El Bestia (The Beast)

“For I was hungry, and you gave Me something to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me something to drink; I was a stranger, and you invited Me in; naked, and you clothed Me; I was sick, and you visited Me; I was in prison, and you came to Me.’ Then the righteous will answer Him, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry, and feed You, or thirsty, and give You something to drink? And when did we see You a stranger, and invite You in, or naked, and clothe You? When did we see You sick, or in prison, and come to You?’ The King will answer and say to them, ‘Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me’” (Matthew 25:35-40 NASB)