By Rev. Teresa G. Welborn

Recently I went on a mission trip to McAllen. I was part of a team volunteering at The Catholic Charities of the Rio Grande Valley’s respite center where undocumented persons wait. Sometimes the waiting is for transportation to see a relative living somewhere else in the U.S. Sometimes it’s for a friend to pick them up. Always the waiting is filled with a mixture of worry and hope about the future.

It is a sobering experience to be present with them in this liminal space. Many travel with little more than the clothes on their backs. By the time they are in the holding center, they are carrying with them a file — the beginning of their legal documentation as they look towards a court hearing at some unknown date in the future. The goal of the respite center is to provide the basics. Food to eat. A place to shower. A place to sleep. In the words of Executive Director Sister Norma Pimentel, we “restore dignity.”

One day I work in the area providing basic toiletries. I use every bit of the little Spanish I have. The faces of women light up when I tell them we finally have “crema” for their hair and not just shampoo. I fill a great number of bottles with formula for parents eager to feed their babies and I try to hide my shock as boys appearing no younger than 10 years old come to the counter asking for baby formula. They walk away with spoon in hand to eat it dry. The desperation is palpable.

Another day I sit with children coloring. One girl draws a large Venezuelan flag with hearts all around it. Another child and I go back and forth drawing every animal we could imagine. Having run out of animals to draw, she finally decides to draw a picture of me. And lest I wonder how old I look to children! The gray haired picture she drew of me is in my office and I’ll keep it forever. The tenderness of human connection is palpable, too.

Sister Norma said in an interview, “I always encourage people to come down and see for themselves. Get close. Close enough to see the families. You understand better”(April 2021, Face the Nation).

I have found this to be true. The experience of meeting people and hearing their stories galvanizes me. When I give to non-profits providing legal aid to immigrants such as Austin Region Justice for our Neighbors, I carry in my mind the faces of people I’ve met in the respite center. The holy work of voting for more friendly immigration laws or protesting inhumane ones at the capitol takes on a richer meaning as I carry with me the stories I’ve been honored to hear.

I won’t pretend to know the answer to the growing reality of global migration fueled by political unrest and climate change, but I do know my faith calls me to look upon each and every person as beloved and to extend kindness. Injustices of all sorts begin when we assume ourselves to be more exceptional than others. But when we believe every life is sacred and act as if it were so, the future bends toward justice and our weary waiting just might tilt towards hope.