Taking Stock, Thanking God

Just a bit past the midpoint of my time on mission, I re-read the Personal Mission Statement from my Commissioning in December of 2024. I told my family and friends: “I believe I am called by God to the US – Mexico border to be a small element of restorative justice, even reparations, for those who have been wounded by systemic injustice. I hope to offer loving presence and accompaniment …”

So, how’s that going? Like my progress with Spanish, it’s poco a poco: the words that a relative who did genealogical research found on our family crest. The changes are in degree, not kind. I have always been friendly. Then, my formators instructed me to greet everybody, and I pretty much do–often with delightful results. I have always loved to walk, but I walk even more in El Paso. I have always trusted God to guide my steps, but that trust is growing daily. In a dark time for so many, I see small miracles everywhere. 

For about five months, I spent one day a week observing and documenting immigration hearings. The nonprofit I was reporting to put that on pause January 1, and almost immediately, God opened a window. 

I had been wanting to visit our huge local concentration camp/“detention center” for quite some time. At first, no visitors were allowed inside. In July, even our Member of Congress, Veronica Escobar, was denied access.

Before coming to El Paso I was active with the New Neighbors Interfaith Alliance (NNIA), an all-volunteer organization in Montgomery County, MD  that befriends and assists recent immigrants. In November, an NNIA friend told me that a gentleman he knew had been taken from his young family and brought here. They had been trying to talk with him or learn something about him for months without success.

Eventually, a few priests and religious sisters were allowed into the camp for group liturgies and Capacitar sessions. Its website says individual visits can be scheduled in advance, but no one I know has been able to do that. Then, good news! An Episcopalian deacon I know visited an individual, so I asked to go along with her next time. We showed up at the visitors’ center early one morning. The person she’d met with the previous week had been moved to Illinois, but for me, miraculously, the doors opened.

I supplied the name and A number of the man from Maryland, and before long, I was shown into an area where he was waiting, on the other side of a glass wall. We had to talk through a small metal hole that was at an uncomfortable height for both of us. His native language is not English or Spanish, and, of course, we were complete strangers, yet somehow, we made a heart connection. 

On that first visit we learned a bit about each other. I could tell him that his family was well, had everything they needed, and sent their love. Afterwards, I could report to them that he was well and sent his love. Best of all, I was able to get a link from a very pleasant staff member that allowed his family to deposit money for phone calls. 

Visitors are not allowed to bring food or warm clothing, both of which I knew he needed, but on subsequent visits, I could bring books, playing cards, dominoes, prayer beads, and a Koran, as well as pictures of his five-year-old daughter and five-month-old son.  This week, he told me that he talks with his daughter every evening around her bedtime. She fills him in on her days, and it fills up his heart. I could feel his joy through the thick glass and the cold metal grate.

Though his first scheduled hearing was canceled at the last minute, there’s a new date in mid-March, and thanks to NNIA’s generous contributions, he has a lawyer. Everyone’s hopeful–even though Texas turns down the vast majority of appeals for asylum and other forms of relief. 

I was also asked to visit a woman sent here from Minnesota, but so far they have not been allowed to receive visitors. Rep. Escobar got in and reported  that those she saw were still wearing the clothes they were arrested in, three weeks earlier; that food portions are small and served still half frozen; and that prisoners who beg to be allowed to self-deport are held for months longer, apparently to boost profits for the privately owned corporation that operates the camp. 

I will continue to visit my new friend as long as I can. I will pray for him and all the prisoners of this unjust system, and I will trust that more windows, or tiny grilles, will open in God’s time. The song that is ringing in my heart is by Mahalia Jackson: God is so good to me!

Question for Reflection: Reflect on a “window” that God has opened for you which has allowed you to accompany someone.