The same skies above
On Saturday afternoons, I have the blessing of volunteering at a migrant center in Agua Prieta, Sonora, Mexico. The center is a place for people who are seeking asylum or who have recently been deported. They can have a temporary stay, food, and shelter.
While they are there, they find relief, but also moments of wonder, second-guessing, changing thoughts, and decision making. Most of them will be sent money by a family member, enough to take the bus all the way to Guatemala, Honduras, or El Salvador. Some of them will become wanderers. Not sure what to do next. It’s not a good feeling.
From time to time, there are kids. Some as young as babies, others in their teenage years. They don’t experience the range of emotions as their parents, but they often express, through their facial expressions, their moments of daydreaming, that they are also hoping, and wishing for a new beginning.
They are not sure exactly where they are or how far they are from where they started, but they know they are going somewhere and that this moment is part of the journey.
When I’m there, we make them dinner and get a chance to socialize. Many times, we have birthday parties. Pinatas and birthday cake are important when you are celebrating a special day far from home. In the quieter moments, kids will share their feelings. They might ask questions about…
