{"id":650,"date":"2012-03-21T12:05:01","date_gmt":"2012-03-21T19:05:01","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/?p=650"},"modified":"2012-04-06T07:21:29","modified_gmt":"2012-04-06T14:21:29","slug":"hope-springs-eternal","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/?p=650","title":{"rendered":"Hope Springs Eternal"},"content":{"rendered":"

The Spanish word, esperar<\/em>, means two things in Spanish—\u201cto wait\u201d and \u201cto hope.\u201d It is a word that perfectly expresses what I see each week as migrants wait with dignity for a nourishing meal, for some warm clothes on this chilly morning, and for the prayers of Father Martin as they contemplate the next step in their journey. <\/span><\/p>\n

There is a mixture of despair, hope, and always, they wait. <\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

a warm jacket for someone's Grandma<\/p><\/div>\n

Today is the first day of spring, March 20. The mountains are covered in snow surrounding my home and my hands are frozen and clumsy as I scrape the ice off the windshield of the car. I stop by my neighbor’s house for a sack of warm clothes. She is amazed I’m going to el<\/em> comedor<\/em>. Frost is everywhere. And of course we are desert dwellers and wimp out when the temperatures plunge. Global warming does have its peculiarities. <\/span><\/p>\n

Lines of shivering immigrants are waiting for us in front of el comedor<\/em>. A woman has no socks, and her shoes are coming apart at the soles. Our group of Samaritans begin handing out blankets and fleecy shirts before we enter the shelter to help serve breakfast.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

making do<\/p><\/div>\n

One fellow, Jesus, asks for a blanket, and speaks English clearly and fluently. I ask where he lives? <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSouth Dakota, for the past 20 years.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Jesus is a painter, specializing in barns, grain silos, and farm buildings. He has a wife and three children, and drops his backpack on the sidewalk to show me a photo of his little girl, age 3. The photo is well creased and it is hard for me to see her little face behind the cracked and worn plastic sleeve. His story is the usual—-picked up for driving without a license and deported to Nogales. <\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Jesus, man of hope<\/p><\/div>\n

\u201cWhat is your plan?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Jesus lights up and tells me excitedly that he has a job, and has found a place to rent. He will paint cars here in Nogales, the sort of fancy detail work that young men love on their machines. Maybe he will paint houses. He shows me his fingernails, which are stained with paint. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThis town could use a good paint job, and I’m the man to do it.\u201d I like his upbeat optimism. <\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Woman with the cap<\/p><\/div>\n

\u201cSo, will your family join you here?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Jesus explains that his family is traveling to California and will wait. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWait for what?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI’m not sure. But God will let me know when the moment is right.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I ask, \u201cRight for what?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

Jesus looks off in the distance, smiles, and tells me he crossed into the U.S. \u201cmaybe 10 years ago\u201d after visiting relatives in Guerrero. He walked miles, hopped trains, traveled by bus, and hitchhiked his way back to South Dakota. He knows traveling to California is no piece of cake. <\/span><\/p>\n

So he will wait until he \u201cknows when the moment is right.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

the Virgin, the migrant, and a sack of sugar<\/p><\/div>\n

But for now, he is happy to have a job in Nogales and a place to live. There is fire in his eyes and a spring in his step as he walks up the street, a blanket under one arm. He is full of hope.<\/span><\/p>\n

It is spring in the Arizona desert. Snow flurries were flying yesterday at el comedor.<\/em> The wildflowers that blanket our desert are in a bit of shock today. But spring teaches us to wait and to hope for the bloom of tomorrow. <\/span><\/p>\n

I think about the world today. There are vastly more poor people than rich people. The numbers of poor seem to grow. I see the poor each week in this humble little shelter. <\/span><\/p>\n

It gets to me. <\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Samaritans on a cold spring day<\/p><\/div>\n

But once again there is a profound lesson to be learned here. The lesson hits me today during the prayers before breakfast. Every head is bowed in humility and the moment is intense with a feeling of enduring hope and faith.\u00a0 The place seems to levitate 2 feet off the ground.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

Life will get better. <\/span><\/p>\n

You cannot stop masses of people who wish to work, love, and be with their families. Their faith in a better tomorrow lights up this shelter on a chilly morning in March. <\/span><\/p>\n

For the first time, I feel warm.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

the Virgin and the jacket<\/p><\/div>\n

The Green Valley Samaritans have a new website. My reflections on el comedor<\/strong> are just a small part of Samaritan activities.\u00a0 There is much more to the story.\u00a0 If you wish to support or contribute to this worthy group I encourage you to check out their beautiful new site at: \u00a0\u00a0 www.gvsamaritans.org\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The Spanish word, esperar, means two things in Spanish—\u201cto wait\u201d and \u201cto hope.\u201d It is a word that perfectly expresses what I see each week as migrants wait with dignity for a nourishing meal, for some warm clothes on this chilly morning, and for the prayers of Father Martin as they contemplate the next step […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-650","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/650","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=650"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/650\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":692,"href":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/650\/revisions\/692"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=650"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=650"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=650"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}