Homespun Homily by Lori: A Day at the Shelter
Sunrise is about 5:45 these days. I know because the curtain on my east facing window hangs about three inches above the bottom of the window. The morning sky is beautiful, heralding another HOT desert day.
Morning duties begin by 6:30. Unlock the many doors of the house. Fill the giant cooler with ice and water. Turn off night lights, empty garbage cans, restock the bathrooms with TP and clean hand towels. And perhaps most important, brew the morning coffee.
The “casa” is quiet at this early hour except for the chorus of birds singing in the patio. In the background are the sounds of whirring and voices and traffic from the construction site next door. On most days this is the calm before the “storm.”
Before the 8:15 breakfast, the church bells peal, announcing the daily 8:00 Mass at the church next door. Then there is the laughter and padding of little feet, the toys banging and the occasional cries over sharing a toy among the several young children staying here. Very slowly, adults appear in the hallways, tired eyes and tousled hair. All of us wish for a little more sleep.
Each day is structured around meals and chores, and appointments for health issues, school registration, and immigration paperwork. There is family to contact, travel arrangements to make. At 10 every morning there is a YouTube English lesson for young and older to learn the English alphabet and vocabulary for time, money, days of the week, body parts, verbs. English is a difficult language –because there are rules…and, oh, by the way, there are all those exceptions to each rule.
As much as we plan out each day, there are always surprises. In our six weeks here, there have been “field trips” to the nearby shopping center and a water spray park. There have been medical emergencies, clinic and dental visits, a brand-new baby, and many last-minute grocery runs for cooking oil, avocados, pinto beans, or ice cream. There have been the everyday ailments of scrapes and coughs, headaches and mosquito bites. And we’ve enjoyed the fun of Bingo, a pizza party, a sidewalk chalk art show, a dance, and bi-lingual karaoke on the patio.
There have been many trips to the airport and a couple of walks with guests to the bus station in the middle of the night, though we really discourage those late-night, early-morning departure times. Many of our guests have never traveled by bus or plane. They are anxious because they don’t know what to do on a plane or bus, nor do they completely understand where they are going.
However, there is a wonderful network of people here to help, providing duffle bags and backpacks and food for the journey, and there is even a group of people who greet the departing migrants at the El Paso airport and accompany them through security and all the way to the door of their airplane.
There are planned weekly events to look forward to: a community member comes once a week to help in the kitchen and prepare a delicious meal. Fr Iggy, a Franciscan friar, celebrates Mass with us in our lovely chapel every Wednesday and usually stays for lunch to visit and share his joy and compassion. Sister Guadalupe leads a prayer group twice a week for whomever wants to attend. Participants sing and pray, reflect and share stories of their lives and their faith. Sister concludes her visit with a sweet treat for everyone and a raffle drawing for a prize for one lucky winner. (Robert and Lori pictured below with Sr. Deidra, an immigration lawyer.)
We’ve had ice cream cones and water balloon tosses, cooling off in the sprinkler and watching fireworks in the neighborhood for the 4th of July. We rounded up lots of coloring books and washable markers for our budding artists PLUS there is an artistic community member who has helped the children (and some of the adults) paint pictures and decorate rocks and mold playdough into imaginative sculptures. We even got some novels in Spanish to make a little library for the teens and adults. And every night after supper, there is a popular movie in the “sala” (community room), dubbed in Spanish.
Life in the shelter, Casa Papa Francisco, is mostly the normal day-to-day life. But there are also the hopes and dreams, the fears and anxieties of our guests, who are desperate for a better life for themselves and their children. In this country, all of us, except for the Native American peoples, have in our family tree ancestors who journeyed to here with these same yearnings, the same hopes for safety, enough food, and the dignity of work with just pay. Can we extend welcome to this new generation of migrants?
