At the Border

Since we have begun our work as accompaniers, immigration officials have been letting one family unit across the border per day. Yesterday, a man and his toddler daughter crossed. Today, a woman, a mother of 2 grown sons who also traveled with her along with their small families, was let cross. They had hoped that they would be allowed to cross as one unit, but that was not the case. As we left her sons, their wives, and young children at the tent to return through the border gate, they said “quizas mañana.” Maybe tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow they will get to cross. Tomorrow holds so much promise for these travelers. It is the word of hope. Migrants have made long journeys. For this family they traveled from Venezuela to Columbia, and then through Central America to the US border.  For many there is no hope of mañana. A small group of nuns who work on the border facilitate cross plantings at the desert locations where the bodies of migrants are found. A sacred ceremony is held ...

The tender children, so bright, playful, full of innocent wonder, running, skipping, giggling, drinking chocolate, kicking the soccer ball, rolling on the floor, molding the clay, stacking the blocks – They warmed our space of waiting as if it were their living room, as if it were not just a momentary harbor from the chilling storms, but rather a place to claim for our own. We lingered longer than usual, drinking coffee, like a family, sharing this precious moment of ease. On the walk back, the girls held hands with Melody. We hugged and kissed them good night. This morning, dad said they called me their American Papi.

After arriving in Tucson late on January 14th and making our way to our hosts' house, we awoke to the glorious open sky of Arizona. Lisa and Mark live in the Catalina Mountain foothills and have lovely views of the mountains. And the sky, what a sky. Wide and open. Such openness. Coming from the green mountains of North Carolina, the wide open sky above flat  or craggy mountainedterrain seemed so freeing somehow. Lighter, or more buoyant than the heavier, more closed in greenness of the Blue Ridge.  Like many things are possible here. Why not? You can see for miles. What looks close is really far away. European settlers of the US must have had similar reactions as they made their migration across the great expanses of plains and Southwest. They were, like the migrants today, looking toward the expanse as opportunity, as a destination for a future better life. Like today’s migrants coming to the US's southern border, they or their ancestors were also leaving their homelan...