Last weekend I was really struggling to write a blog post. There is so much to write about and yet I was having trouble getting my thoughts to form cohesive sentences. It is one thing to have an interesting thought and a whole other to communicate that thought to the world in a way that has meaning.
I wrote down three interactions from last week and the common thread I found was that this job is not my passion. It felt a bit negative to write that, but I will share them now because this idea has evolved over the last couple days.
Last week I sat in on a zoom presentation about facilitating activities for kids that promote trauma resilience. Throughout the presentation, I was very engaged and excited about the content, but at the same time I was feeling a frustrated knowing that something like this would hardly be possible at Casa Alitas. It is hard enough for the staff to maintain the bare minimum of services for the guests, there is not enough time in the day to plan or lead some group games or craft activities.
I have noticed that whenever someone sends a heart felt thank you my way I feel not a sense of gratification in my body, but some tension. A family from India thanked me over and over again one morning after I handed them their new phone they ordered to be delivered. Why was I being thanked? All I did was walk to the office and back (I mean that was not something that I could have done a month ago, but they don't know that 😂).
Two new volunteers joined Casa Alitas this week, they are from Guatemala and are hoping to learn about different organizations in the US to inspire some ideas for a project they want to start at home. They are wanting to provide resources for people establishing security for people in Guatemala so they do not have to flee their country in the first place.
Through all these interactions, I found a common thread. What I am passionate about is prevention and healing. The work that I am doing here is the in between stuff, the doing just enough to stay afloat. Not my dream job (but we all knew that already).
This year I am here in Tucson working with Casa Alitas, doing the day to day work that needs to be done. I find joy in the work. The "OH, gracias" from a 3 year old as I hand his family a pizza for lunch, brings a big smile to my face. I celebrate with the family that now has a phone, and feel excited to help them set up an email address. But I know that I can only do this work temporarily. It may bring me moments of joy, but it is not my passion.
And that is okay. I am starting to really settle into this work. I am getting caught up in the politics of the organization. People want to know my take on how things are operated, and I am beginning to have ideas for changes and improvements. This may not be my life calling, but it is good and important.
A chocolate gift from a coworker, hummus spelled wrong, and a self portrait featuring a Schitt's Creek reference.
On another note:
Casa Alitas was in the news a few weeks ago. We were getting around 400 people a day and way over capacity. Things have changed since then, but I think it is still interesting to look back at this article. The week this article came out we requested to not receive more than 300 people a day from ICE. Now we send 100+ people up to refugios (shelters) in Phoenix.
A thought:
When you don't lend a hand, it does not remove the problem, it just allows you to forget the problem exists.
Example: When our numbers were really high we stopped giving our guest clothing because we could not keep up with the demand. This did not remove the need for clothing, but it did change how we look at the need.
"No tenemos ropa. Solo para emergencias"
It is easy to dismiss the need, to remove all empathy.
A little rant about clothing:
Clothing is a real need in the line of Immigration work. If you have a nonprofit for Immigrants near you consider donating your clothes or a monetary gift. It's not that travelers are ill prepared and only brought one change of clothes, the problem is the border patrol system. Migrants are stripped of most of their belongings at the border, allowed only a small plastic bag big enough for a phone and a t-shirt. In El Paso, they are stripped even of the clothes they are wearing. They arrive at Casa Alitas dressed in literal paper clothing. Again, if you have means, giving clothing to shelters for Immigrants is the least you could do.
One more thing:
When you hear the news about "expelling" Venezuelan Migrants, remember that these are people with stories. This is not a stray-cattle-in-your-back-yard-because-the-fence-has-a-whole-in-it situation with a simple solution of herding them back over and building a stronger fence. These are people seeking a better chance at life. People that have sold all their belongings to start anew. People who have fled situations of violence and physical threat. People who deserve dignity.
There was not a lot of joy in this post, so here is a lovely picture of the Santa Cruz.
Thanks for reminding us of the many layers of the work you do! Connie Zehr
Don't give up, Jessie. We're not in a position or location to "help" you, but we think of you many times, and trust things are working out for you. Dan