Outpouring of cariño provides space for healing

Some families would arrive in the morning, some in late evening, sometimes in the middle of the night at 3 a.m. The time did not matter; staff at the Basilica of Our Lady of San Juan del Valle-National Shrine was ready to receive the immigrant children and parents who had just been reunified a few hours before at the Port Isabel Detention Center in Bayview.

With open arms and an outpouring of love, the Catholic Church in the Rio Grande Valley provided families with a safe and holy place to reconnect with each other after weeks and months of being separated.

From the first families that arrived on July 13 to the last two on July 30, more than 500 reunited families spent their first nights together, reunified on the basilica grounds.

One child said it would be the first night she would go to sleep without crying now that she was with her mother. One mother from Honduras who was reunified with her son on July 27 after 55 days of being apart did not sleep that first night. She wanted to watch her son sleep and hear his heart beat. "Mi corazón comenzó a palpitar de nuevo,” she said. (My heart began to beat again.)

She recounted the pain of her initial reunification, saying it took nearly an hour for her six-year-old son to hug her at the detention center. “No me toques,” he told her; “no te conozco. Tu me abandonaste.” (Don’t touch me. I don’t know you. You abandoned me.”)

Each child, mother, father who was thankful for their reunification carries at the same time untold traumas because of their separation. As a nation, many of us felt helpless as more than 2,000 immigrant children were separated from their parents as part of the “zero-tolerance” policy.

As soon as the reunification of families began, everyone wanted to do what they could. Here in our diocese we witnessed the Church in action during a critical time. This is an amazing moment in the history of the Church. We focused not on the politics but rather on taking care of our brothers and sisters before us.

The Church response is not new. It is ongoing. Each week since 2012, volunteers pray with children who are living in detention centers for unaccompanied minors. They sit and listen to their hopes and dreams, their prayers to be reunified with their family.  Also, other volunteers help keep the Humanitarian Respite Center in operation. To date, more than 100,000 immigrant men, women and children have found rest at the center, which first opened in 2014 at Sacred Heart Church in McAllen and is now at a temporary site nearby.

“This is a blessed moment, where we have been chosen to care for them, to welcome them, to help them beyond this point in their journey,” said Sister Norma Pimentel, of the Missionaries of Jesus, who has been overseeing the care of newly released immigrants as executive director of Catholic Charities of the Rio Grande Valley.

From the moment they arrive, it is important to welcome them and care for them, to let them know that they are safe, said Sister Pimentel, who is a licensed professional counselor. “The moment that another human being opens up their heart and their care to them begins a process of healing,” she said. “That human contact is so transformative, and that is what is happening here.”

Witnessing the Church’s response, witnessing the people who turned all their attention to helping the families, helps us to see the light of Christ shine in even the darkest of times.

Their joy was contagious as we witnessed countless embraces between children and their mothers and fathers. Their smiles and laughter gave us hope. We trust in God that that their faith will continue to guide them in the journey ahead.

As we rejoiced with families celebrating their reunions, it was joyful as well to serve. Consuelo Jones from Mission worked from early morning into the evening securing food for each meal. Socorro Ortega and her family drove to San Juan from Brownsville at 5 a.m. to cook breakfast for the families. Parishes and businesses donated meals as well. St. John the Baptist Church in San Juan hosted an outdoor picnic for the families. The youths from the parish organized games and gifts for the children. The abundance of giving from so many in our diocese translated into smiles for the children and their parents. That evening, they cried, they celebrated, they rejoiced.

An added joy, on Friday after the government’s deadline to reunite families, the six-year-old who hesitated to hug his mother at their initial reunification presented her with a yellow Esperanza flower he found after spending the morning with her. He picked it for her just as he used to pick flowers for her when they were in Honduras, she said.

To witness and be a part of this moment in history is the most blessed experience of all my years of working with the Church.

(Originally published in August 2018 edition of The Valley Catholic newspaper)

How one year turned into a 20-year pilgrimage

Twenty years ago, my son was in first grade, my daughter in preschool. I was content working for a school district at the time and taking graduate classes, on track with the 10 and 20-year-plan I outlined for my family and myself. However, God had other plans. I did not realize at the time, but he was calling me home, back to the Church. His accomplice, my husband who faxed in my résumé to the diocese, helped me pay attention.

When I started in 1998, I did not know what to expect. I thought I would try it out for a year. Fast forward to 2018 where April 6 marks the 20-year anniversary of my first day on the job. But the word “job” no longer fits, as the journey taught me that my work here is a ministry. Likewise, these years have served as ongoing catechesis and provided some life-changing lessons.

Learning to surrender ranks as one of the most impactful lessons. Connected to this came lessons in patience and humility. Also, I count the gift of each encounter with the people in our diocese which continually reinforces the intricate ways God connects us to one another. 

The pilgrimage continues and I still have much more to learn. For now, I leave you with two poems from my manuscript titled Somewhere Between Surrender.

The Painter Stirs Each Moment

He paints pink oleanders in my backyard, blends

greens into shade, into palms, basil, bougainvillea,

adds salmon into the mix. He stirs blues of the sky

with grays, oranges, pinks. He creates colors we

try to name, gives light, whispers his directions.

The path sometimes blurs in my eyes. He wakes

me with aromas peppered with spice, the perfume

of gardenias, the voice of love, the cries of my

babies gone now, making their own ways,

the premonitions afloat en el Rio Grande

with songs from la frontera.

Mixed media on canvas. Los consejos de mi mama,

la industria de mi abuela, the chess moves my

father tried to teach me, the birdhouses I painted

with mis pequeños, their laughter a contagious tint.

He holds some colors in reserve. Offers hues we

might not dare. He gifts the lizards their own

paintbrush, these chameleons that scale my

porch screens. He, the master painter, in the light

of the Resurrection. I, his apprentice, his groupie,

his skinned-kneed child. I paint with bloodied palms,

color all over the page. I cannot sing, hold a tune,

tantas las canciones, but I write, try to capture

lightning on the page, try to end the hunger, try

to keep from catching fire, catch daylight, answers,

hear the symphony of the hours in each moment.

A Work in Progress

Our expectations falter, critical selves of missteps

and falls. He picks us up, trusts us, again

and again and again. He wants to hear our laughter, cheers

us on, wipes our tears. Abba, I am your work in progress.

Yet you deliver surprises with a bouquet of red

kalanchoes wrapped in Sunday comics.

He does not count promises, disappointments; he picks

us up, gathers our dandelion florets scattered by

day's wind, nudges us in the direction, through hikes

in el Valle's wild, witness the gold blooms on the huisache.

If cactus flowers bring spring to the desert,

I offer my day, my poems, in prayer, in thanksgiving. Ni

el frio de Abril, ni la inquietud del miedo me quita

el ánimo. I wake each day for you Lord, incomplete I look

to discover your work in progress, your surprises, todas

tus maravillas. I surrender. May my pilgrimage walk

give witness to his love.

The Paschal Triduum & the Altars of Repose

At the start of the Lenten journey, 40 days seemed like a long time. But while they passed too quickly, I look forward now to these holy days of the Paschal Triduum. Each year I marvel at the graces that flow during each of the Holy Week observations.

A year ago I made my first Holy Thursday pilgrimage to seven “Altars of Repose.” Here is a story I wrote about my experience.

Spending time with our Lord: Visit to seven Altars of Repose an ancient tradition

BROWNSVILLE — This past Triduum my husband and I shared a new pilgrimage experience, new to us as it is actually an ancient tradition of visiting seven Altars of Repose on Holy Thursday. The practice is linked to the early Christian custom of visiting sites which were significant to Christ’s Passion.

In Rome, pilgrims visit seven basilicas (St. Peter, St. Paul Outside the Wall, St. John Lateran, St. Mary Major, Santa Croce in Gerusalemme, St. Lawrence Outside the Walls and St. Sebastian). In recent times, when seven churches are not possible, making it to at least three suffices.

I had heard about the tradition, but had not paid much attention until an intern last year recounted how he and his friends delighted in their visit from one church to the next. Bishop Emeritus Raymundo J. Peña for years practiced the tradition, and Bishop Daniel E. Flores shared photos of his own visits on his blog one year.

Bishop Flores said it gives him great joy to see how the faithful prepare a place to receive the Lord after the Sacrament is taken in procession at the end the Holy Thursday liturgy, and to see young people and families spending time in adoration and prayer. The procession with the Sacrament symbolizes the Lord going out to face the Passion.

For my husband and me it was a grace-filled experience and a perfect start to the Triduum. God’s graces overflowed that evening as we visited the Altars of Repose at seven different churches. We started at the Immaculate Conception Cathedral in Brownsville and made our way to our home parish St. Anthony Church in Harlingen. My husband and I chose churches that connected us to our families and sacraments. 

Among the churches we visited were Our Lady of Guadalupe Church where I was baptized; St. Joseph Church where my husband received all his sacraments of initiation and St. Luke Church, my parish church until I moved away and where we were married 26 years ago. The pilgrimage filled us with immense joy. We also visited Holy Family Church in Brownsville and St. Benedict Church in San Benito.

As empty nesters we are still adjusting to our children, young adults now, living away from home. I miss our family tradition of walking the Stations of the Cross together on Good Friday and preparing Easter baskets and painting cascarones in the days leading up to Easter.

Our Thursday pilgrimage took us on a nostalgic “This is your life” tour. Fue un recordido de memorias. As we visited the different churches in Brownsville we drove past places bursting with history from our youth and growing years. We drove by both our elementary schools and playgrounds that are nearly gone now; we passed by my husband’s middle school and our high school – Homer Hanna High; we passed by old neighborhoods, favorite hamburger joints, streets where I learned to drive.

Each Altar of Repose afforded us time with Christ, time for prayer, and time to remember the blessings in our lives, and always the Lord was at our side. During our drive time from one church to the next, we shared stories and talked about how some things have changed and how some remain intact.

Some churches felt particularly like home. At Our Lady of Guadalupe Church, where I was baptized, I could hear my mother’s voice. I remember the pews we sat in at the time toward the back of the church. I remember she pointed to the altar and told me Christ was behind the closed doors in the gold tabernacle. “Ahi esta Cristo,” she said. Maybe I was four or five. I remember I puzzled about her comment for a long time, trying in my child’s mind to make sense of what she meant.

I wanted to spend more time in each of the churches, but conscious of the time, we had to move on to make sure we made it to all seven before midnight when Adoration ends on Holy Thursday. Each altar was surrounded with bouquets of flowers and candles that flickered to give light in the darkness. Each carefully prepared and adorned so that the faithful could spend time in silence and meditation before the Lord. No one was sleeping. Everyone was keeping watch in the “Garden of Gethsemane.”

Along the way we saw people we knew who were taking part of the ancient tradition of visiting the different Altars of Repose that evening. You could feel the joy that lifted each of us on our Maundy Thursday pilgrimage.

At St. Luke Church, it was comforting to hear the familiar voice of Helen Vargas, who was leading the children in prayer before the Altar or Repose. It felt like home. Helen was my confirmation teacher and the choir director 32 years ago when I attended there. How beautiful that she continues to teach new generations the traditions of our faith.

When we arrived in Harlingen, we ended at St. Anthony Catholic Church, our home parish where our son and daughter received their sacraments. The Altar of Repose was set up in the original church which is now used as a parish hall and as a cafeteria for the Catholic school. The doors opened out to the street where passing cars could glimpse the glimmering candles before the Blessed Sacrament.

What a blessing to see so many keeping watch with Christ, and continuing the ancient tradition. Our pilgrimage reaffirmed how God has been constant in our lives and remains so. I pray for the grace to honor the days he provides and that I may be constant in my attempts to listen and follow his direction in the days to come. 

(Originally published in May 2014 edition of The Valley Catholic newspaper) 

Walking with Him

“El pan que del cielo baja es comida de viajeros…” da “fuerza en el camino”

Fiesta del Corpus Christi: Secuencia

June opened with the Solemnity of Corpus Christi, and the fire of Christ’s presence continues to guide my days.

Walking in the Eucharistic procession through the downtown streets of Brownsville on June 2 for the Solemnity of Corpus Christi filled me with peace and joy as we, some 400 people, gave witness to Christ’s presence in the Eucharist.

Some of the signs read, “Soy Yo en medio de ustedes” (It is I among you); another read, “Cristo está vivo en la Eucaristía” (Christ is alive in the Eucharist).

The Knights in full regalia; the children dressed in white scattered rose petals before the Blessed Sacrament; the evening never felt the darkness as the choir led us in song and we walked in procession; the matachines danced in celebration.

People peaked from their windows as the procession passed by; some came to their front yard fences; all of them drawn by the power of his presence.

Bishop Daniel E. Flores reminds us, “Dios eterno bajo del cielo para acompañarnos, el quiso estar con nosotros… El señor desea acompañar nuestra peregrinación de la vida.”

Those of us who walked together felt his presence. I am certain his presence impacted us in ways beyond our understanding. One thing I do recognize, the road ahead is less daunting knowing that we do not walk alone.