When I first contemplated how I would format my blog post about the Border Delegation, I thought that I would title it, “Hurt and Hope,” and describe the ways in which I observed and experienced both throughout the week. I quickly realized, though, that sorting my experiences that way was too binary. Most of what I saw and learned encompassed hints of both hope and hurt. At church the Sunday after our Border Delegation concluded, Pastor Bart Smith spoke in his sermon about Emmanuel: God with us. He said that emmanuel is forever and ongoing. With it being the beginning of advent, he posed the question, “When is a good time for love to be born?” In my mind, I considered, “When is a good time to migrate?” Inspired by the sermon, I arrived at this title and framework: Emmanuel in the Borderlands. Emmanuel at Café JustoCafé Justo (translated: fair or just coffee) is a coffee cooperative owned and operated by farmers in Chiapas, Mexico. The coffee is grown in Chiapas and roasted in Agua Prieta. It is sold in Mexico, the U.S., Canada, and France, mostly at churches. During our time in Agua Prieta, we were given a tour of the roasting facility and learned about their operations from Café Justo employees, Daniel and Adrián. Café Justo began in 2002 with a microloan from Frontera de Cristo. Many farmers from Chiapas were migrating to Northern Mexico or to the United States because the price of coffee fell so dramatically in the 1990s that they could no longer support themselves or their families. Community and family unity suffered greatly. In response to the economic and social crisis, Café Justo was formed as a way to cut out the middle man in the coffee growing and selling process so that the farmers in Chiapas could receive a fair price for their beans. In addition to being paid a fair price for the fruit of their labor, farmers who are part of the cooperative receive benefits, such as health insurance and retirement plans. Now, some of the original farmers are retiring, and their children are working as part of the co-op. The same families that would have been separated by migration as a result of environmental and economic factors out of their control, are now living and working intergenerationally and have the resources to invest in their community. When is a good time to migrate? Emmanuel in a Family’s HomeOne evening during our time in DouglaPrieta, we were welcomed into the home of a young family: Flor, Miguel, and their daughter, Aleyda. We were a group of 13 people, but our hosts were very hospitable and generous. Flor prepared a lentil soup that we garnished with cilantro, onions, and lime. She served us pitchers full of agua fresca- piña, my favorite! Most of the time we were there, Aleyda, who is five, was in a side room watching cartoons and coloring with her dad. She wore shiny bows in her hair, and produced a shy smile when we asked her questions. After enjoying la cena, Flor and Miguel spoke to us candidly about life on the border. Flor grew up in Agua Prieta; Miguel in Chiapas. Due to a lack of job opportunities over a decade ago, Miguel migrated to the U.S. He explained that during his time in the United States, he only left his home to go to work. He lived in constant fear of any interaction with law enforcement. One day, while on his way to work, the vehicle he was in was pulled over, I think for mechanical issues. Miguel was the only individual in the vehicle who did not have authorization to work, so he was taken to the immigrant detention facility in Florence, Arizona. (Some of my colleagues at the Florence Project provide legal services to individuals detained there). Miguel described his six months imprisoned there as difficult and ugly. I could see in his facial expressions and hear in his words that he had many painful memories of Florence. After six months of trying to obtain a work permit, but with no avail, Miguel decided to sign an order of deportation and return to Mexico. He ended up in Agua Prieta and applied for a job at a maquiladora, or factory. Flor was a new hire at the same maquiladora at that time. Also limited by economic opportunity, many Agua Prieta folks work at factories run by multinational cooperations that are located near the border due to lax labor and tax laws. Although Miguel annoyed Flor at first because he asked many questions during work orientation, they eventually became friends and are now married with a child. As a United Statesian, I often have had the perception that people in Mexico are miserable. Especially people who live near the border, I thought, must have terrible lives filled with violence and despair. That is the opposite of what I experienced in the home of Flor, Miguel, and Aleyda. They were hopeful. They were hospitable. They were healthy. They were happy. Miguel said, “We have problems, like all families do, but we are very content to live in this community.” When is a good time to migrate? When is a good time for a child to be born? Emmanuel at Operation StreamlineThe part of our week in which it was the most difficult to believe Emmanuel: God with us was when we observed Operation Streamline in Tucson. Operation Streamline is a two hour-long, mass federal prosecutorial hearing that occurs every afternoon. Each day 70 to 80 individuals are prosecuted for a misdemeanor or a felony, solely related to entering the country not at a port of entry. If an individual has only entered once, and has not been deported, they generally plead guilty to a misdemeanor and are then turned over to Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) where they will be detained for months before being deported or, if they are statistically lucky, released to live in the U.S. If an individual has a prior deportation on their record, they are prosecuted for a felony and a misdemeanor, but will usually plead guilty to the misdemeanor so the felony is dropped. They are sentenced to 30 to 180 days in federal prison, after which they will be turned over to ICE and spend several months in detention until being deported, or if EXTRA statistically lucky, released. Our group of 13 and another group of folks on a church/border education trip entered a massive federal court room and were seated in the back. Many attorneys sat in the jury box. All of the usual court personnel was there: a judge, a secretary, an interpreter, and many federal marshals. When the judge was ready to begin, a group of seven people wearing street clothes, handcuffs, ankle shackles, and chains around their waists came out from a side door, had headphones were placed on their ears (they could not do it themselves because of the handcuffs), and stood in front of the judge. Seven of the attorneys stepped down from the jury box and stood behind each defendant. The judge went down the line of people asking them to verify their names, read them their rights, asked if they wanted to waive their right to a trial, read them their charges, and asked for their plea. She would usually read the full text (for an example, the rights) to the first or second person in line. She would say, “Do you understand your rights as I just explained?” By the third, fourth, fifth, person in the order, she would just say, “Same question.” It was apparent that efficiency, not comprehension or justice, was the name of the game. After each defendant pleaded guilty to their charges, whether they really understood them or not, the group of seven would be escorted out, and another group of seven would be escorted in. This process was repeated about ten times. It was uncomfortable, sad, and shameful to watch people being treated like this, especially in a U.S. court room. It was very difficult to feel the presence of God in that room. Among the approximately 70 humans who we saw in chains standing in front of a judge who spoke to them in complex legal terminology in a foreign language, were a pregnant woman, indigenous language speakers whom the judge coerced into using the Spanish interpreter even if comprehension was limited, and boys who appeared and sounded to be 14 or 15 years old, but told the judge they were 18. One defendant broke out of the mechanical saying “Sí” to all of the judge’s questions, and decided to speak up when given the opportunity. I have contemplated his story several times over the last few weeks. Jorge was one of the individuals who had a prior deportation on his record, so he was being charged with a felony and sentenced to time in a federal prison. When the judge asked, “Do any of the defendants want to say anything?” Jorge bravely said yes. He approached the microphone and asked the judge if his sentence could be reduced. He explained that he is a single father, and his United States citizen daughter is in Mexico. The longer his prison sentence, the longer he would be separated from his daughter. It seemed like what he wanted was to quickly be deported so that he could return to caring and providing for her. The judge said, “I’m sorry to hear that, but I have no control over sentencing. It’s between your attorney and the government.” Jorge was sentenced to 180 days, six months, in a U.S. federal prison. When is a good time to migrate? Emmanuel at the Port of EntryDuring our time in Agua Prieta, we had the pleasure of sharing a meal with migrants who were temporarily living at a shelter on the Mexican side of the border. There was a variety of identities present at the shelter, called C.A.M.E. There were a couple of Honduran and Guatemalan families. There were three Mexican men who had spent the majority of their lives in the U.S. There was a group of Honduran transgender women. The C.A.M.E. volunteers and the migrants collaborated to prepare a delicious dinner, do dishes, and clean. We tried to wash our own dishes and sweep, but as their guests, they generously cleaned up after us. While we ate, we had the honor of hearing their stories, sharing in their pain, joking and laughing. Migrants are at this shelter, usually, waiting to cross into the United States. There is a small port of entry between Agua Prieta and Douglas. If a migrant sets foot on U.S. soil and expresses a desire to apply for asylum to a government official, U.S. and international law dictates that the person has the right to stay in the United States (often in detention) while fighting for asylum in immigration court. Entering the U.S. at a port of entry is the best way to do this because it is safer than crossing the desert or the Río Grande. It also carries less potential legal backlash than does entering not at a port of entry (see Operation Streamline, above). However, the number of people who can approach a port of entry and request asylum is limited. And, the number has been decreasing in recent months. (I discussed this phenomena in my post about El Paso.) The Agua Prieta/Douglas port of entry is small, but it has the capacity to process eight asylum seekers per day. In recent weeks, it has been processing maybe one or two people per day. So, some of the folks we met at C.A.M.E. were waiting to go to the port of entry and request asylum, but they had been turned away day after day. During our dinner at C.A.M.E., we met María. She wore her hair in a pony tail, and had a beautiful smile. María was traveling with her 13 year-old daughter, Julisa, who was wearing a blue shirt with white buttons when I met her. The morning following our shared dinner, María and Julisa were planning to go to the port of entry, bright and early, accompanied by C.A.M.E. volunteers. Before leaving that night, we wished them luck and safe travels. The next day we were busy with our scheduled programming. We spent most of the day in Agua Prieta, but around 4 pm, we were crossing the border to participate in a prayer vigil in Douglas. As we approached the port of entry, we saw María and Julisa. Sitting on the concrete. Waiting. They told us that they had been there since 7 a.m., but had not yet been allowed to set foot on U.S. soil to request asylum. We were in a hurry to get to the prayer vigil, so we did not talk for long. We pulled our U.S. passports out of our pockets and were in the U.S. within minutes. After the prayer vigil, some members of our group returned to the port of entry with food, coats, and sleeping bags for María and Julisa. Although they could have returned to C.A.M.E. for the night, they decided to sleep on the concrete in the cold because they didn’t want to “lose their place in line.” María was eight months pregnant, with bronchitis. When is a good time for a baby to be born? When is a good time to migrate? Where is Emmanuel?As we are now in advent, a time of preparation for the coming of Jesus, I am trying to identify Emmanuel in my life. I am trying to consider where God is with me. I experienced God in the faces and in the lives of Daniel, Adrián, Flor, Miguel, Aleyda, Jorge, María and Julisa. I experienced God in the many life-changing ministries of Frontera de Cristo. I experienced God in the DouglaPrieta community. I experienced God in the hope and in the hurt. As Pastor Bart said, Emmanuel is forever and ongoing.
When is a good time to migrate? When is a good time for a baby to be born? When is a good time for love to be born?
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Flash blogs are short posts written to a shared prompt during community discussion time -- with a ten minute time limit. This practice helps us get used to blogging, stay in communication with our followers, and challenge ourselves to not overthink how we share with the world. Please excuse any typos or errors. See each YAV's response to this shared prompt below! Tanner:Oh man, Alison gave us a tough prompt for this flash blog. As soon as she said it, my mind began to race through the past three months trying to come up with an answer. The answer I will settle on is cleanliness. I have lived in a clean environment all my life. My parents kept my childhood home well maintained, I always cleaned my dorm room in college, and (for the most part) my housemates and I work hard to maintain a clean space in our YAV house. What I have learned from working at CHRPA is that cleanliness is a luxury that many do not have. As part of my job, I walk into many people’s homes, and the reality is that most are not clean. I have seen varying levels of disorganization, clutter, and hoarding during my three months on the job. I will admit, my gut reaction is to make a snap judgement. Why would someone live this way? I often think. Yet when you talk to homeowners, there are so many layers behind their living situations. Elderly or disabled clients lack the physical mobility to move about their house or do chores. Other clients juggle multiple jobs while raising a family, so there is no time left in their day to tend to household matters. Still, others may have lived their whole lives in poverty, so it may be hard for them to throw things away. The point is, anytime that voice pops into my head asking me to make a snap judgement, I try to step back and see the big picture. The virtue of maintaining a clean home is ingrained in us all our lives. Afterall, the saying goes “cleanliness is next to Godliness.” But the more I see, the more I realize this attitude is just another way to shame those who lack the privilege of having extra time and resources that they can use to take care of their home. I am grateful that I have the ability to live in a home that is “clean”, but I am actively trying to separate the morality and judgement that can so often by tied into the arbitrary definition of what makes a home clean. Ryan:Things are currently going well for us in Tucson. I am currently very thankful for my home community. We have our differences, but I am so happy to see how much progress we have made towards creating a well balanced intentional community. My fellow house mates (Tanner, Dakota, and Miranda) are all great people and I feel as though in such a short time we have gotten to know each other very well and I am equally excited to see where this journey will take us next. Though this year has already had many unexpected surprises and challenges I feel confident that I can look to my community for guidance in my time of need and feel reassured with their responses. I feel so grateful to be here and experiencing all of this alongside those who felt called to support me through your prayers and interest in our work. I encourage you to also look at the current YAV page on the Presbyterian website and read some my other housemates blogs so that you can get a better picture of our journey/challenges/passions and whatever else we are currently going through. Thank you all and I am so excited to see where this journey will take all of us next! Dakota:During our community discussion time on Friday, November 16, we were given 10 minutes to write on the prompt: What is something you are grateful for that you used to not be grateful for?
Hot showers. Due to luck of birth, being born in the United States to a middle class family, I have almost always had hot showers and baths, with the exception of a sibling using up all of the hot water before I showered. I remember as a child I would stay in the bath tub playing, singing, enjoying the water, for hours! My mom would say, “Why are you still in there? The water is cold now!” As a teenager, a hot shower was one of the places I could go to escape from the stress of high school academia, scholarship applications, and social anxieties. I was in the habit of taking showers first thing before bed, which was often in the wee hours of the morning. Especially during the winter months in Wyoming, I would take a hot shower, then run into my room where I turned my furnace on full-blast and laid in front of it until I was lulled to sleep. All of this to say, I have regularly enjoyed hot showers in my life, but I usually took them for granted. I didn’t stop to think, “Wow, I am thankful for that steamy shower!” There have been two periods in my life in which I distinctly remember not having access to hot showers. First, was when I was studying abroad in Ecuador. According to the study abroad program I went through, our host families were supposed to provide us with hot water. My host family said that my shower should have been hot, but it was only about 5% of the time. (I thuuuuuuroughly enjoyed those 5% days). I became used to the cold or, if lucky, lukewarm temperatures, and adapted. I executed my shower routine in record time, and then quickly went into my bedroom and crawled under the covers to warm up. The second period of time in which I did not have hot showers, was when I moved into our YAV house in August. During the summer months, the cool showers didn’t feel too bad. As October approached, though, the cold showers were uncomfortable. I talked about it with my housemates, and it seemed that we were all experiencing the same shivery showers. At first, we accepted the cold water as part of our house, and jokingly chalked it up to be part of simple living. After a while (as outside temperatures dropped) we decided to ask our landlord/maintenance guy about it. He came over the same day we called, and with one twist of a knob, solved our problem! Apparently our water heater was set to “cool,” likely because of the summer months, and because the house was vacant for about six weeks before we arrived. We now have the luxury of hot showers! This small example of shower temperatures reminds me of a few of the larger ideas that underlie the YAV program. First, it caused me to recognize my privilege. I have had the privilege to access hot water throughout my life. I had the privilege to call a maintenance person who came and fixed our problem for free. Second, I was reminded that I, nor my housemates, knew everything. It was a simple fix, but we were clueless. I was reminded that as a YAV, I should try not to come into a community or to a setting assuming that I know everything. I should try to rely on the expertise of the locals and those who were here before me, and may be here long after I leave. The staff members at Community Home Repair Projects of Arizona (CHRPA), the organization I am serving with during my YAV year, are required to write two stories a month about their experiences providing home repair services to low-income clients. The motivation behind this requirement is CHRPA’s belief that the best way to convey their work and impact to the general public is through the art of storytelling. Each February, our Development Director compiles stories written during the past twelve months into a book called “CHRPA Tales.” As a volunteer, I am not exempt from the two stories a month rule. Therefore, I thought this blog would be a great place to merge my writing for YAV and writing for CHRPA. Periodically, I will publish a story I wrote for CHRPA to give you a better sense of my ongoing work with this organization. Below you will find a story I wrote about a client I visited in September, during my second week as a volunteer. Enjoy! GratitudeNote: All names in this story have been changed for sake of privacy.
How do you respond when someone you have known for merely six hours shows you overwhelming gratitude, especially when you feel that gratitude is unwarranted? That is a question I wrestled with during my second week at CHRPA. For context, I started at CHRPA with no prior experience in home repair. Before this year, the only tools I had ever used were a screwdriver, a hammer, and occasionally, a drill. During my first weeks as a volunteer, I was constantly learning about new tools and new methods of repair, and my head was spinning trying to keep it all straight. The people I worked with were excellent teachers, taking the time to answer my questions and exhibiting patience when I made inevitable mistakes. Still, my lack of prior knowledge meant the amount of help I could actually offer my coworkers on jobs was minimal. I knew this would change and I would eventually find my stride, but at first, I was constantly humbled by how little I knew. Shortly after I began volunteering, I was assigned to assist Kelly with replacing major portions of an air duct in a client’s home. Air ducts were something I admittedly knew little about. I was fairly sure that air travelled through them, and they also seemed to be great places to crawl through buildings undetected in spy movies, but that was the extent of my knowledge. Kelly, on the other hand, has decades of experience in electrical work and a myriad of other fields, so I felt confident that the client and I were in good hands. When we arrived at the home of Leticia and her husband, Diego, she gave us a large, warm smile and immediately offered us coffee and water. Kelly and I got to work and the project took us the entire day. We had to cut out the old ducts, retrofit and trim the new ducts to fit the space, install them, cut out parts of the wall, add new support beams, and clean up the mess we made. Kelly led the way, while I held what needed to be held, cut what needed to be cut, and swept what needed to be swept. I also listened and watched as Kelly explained each step of the process to me. Sure, I helped, but I was not an integral component in bringing back cool air to Leticia and Diego’s home. This fact would not have been evident if you went by Leticia’s reaction. She praised and thanked both Kelly and I throughout the day, telling us how impressed she was by “our” work, and how helpful and smart we were. She went on to explain that this used to be the type of job Diego, who worked in construction for decades, could have done, but age had slowed them both down. She beamed with pride when she recounted how they had both worked hard their entire life to raise a family and maintain their home. Leticia thanked us again as we were leaving, and gave us a bag of homemade tamales, salsa, and candy for the rod. I will admit, Letica’s gratitude made me uncomfortable at several points throughout the day, mainly because I felt it was unearned. Why should she be thanking me? She and her husband were the ones who had worked so hard to provide for their family for so long, and Kelly was the one who had the skills and knowledge to complete the job. There were times during the day when all I was doing was watching and listening. In the moments Leticia thanked me, I would smile and nod, but inside I couldn’t shake this feeling that it was somehow wrong for me to accept her thanks. As Kelly and I were driving back, she told me something that shifted my perspective. She explained that it was fairly common for clients to offer us food or gratitude. She went on on to explain how clients often don’t want to feel like they’re being given a “handout”, and by thanking us or giving us a small token of appreciation, they feel like they’re part of an exchange of goods, not just simply being given something. I can see how this exchange creates dignity on both sides. Leticia felt grateful for our work, and she wanted to share her gratitude with us. By accepting her food and hospitality, we are validating her as a person, and acknowledging that we are not the only ones giving something to her, she is giving something to us as well. Each week I continue to come across clients that display extravagant generosity. While I have developed more confidence in my abilities and knowledge, there is still much I do not know, and I constantly have to rely on the wisdom and experience of the volunteers and staff around me to complete jobs. One thing I do know now is how to respond when a client shows gratitude towards me, whether it was earned or unearned: a smile and a “you’re welcome”. It’s October, which means playoff baseball! I started following the sport when I was eight, and it has been a huge part of my life ever since. A remarkable trait of baseball is its consistency. The game has been played in essentially the same form for over a century. This consistency can be a great comfort in a world that is changing rapidly on a micro and macro level. Whether I am watching a baseball game on the TV of my childhood home, in a dorm room with friends, or on my laptop in the YAV house in Tucson, it is the same game. Occasionally during a baseball game, the players will toss the ball around the horn. This is when the infielders toss the ball amongst themselves after a strikeout occurred with no men on base. The primary purpose of the exercise is to keep the fielders loose during the inning. In honor of playoff baseball, I thought I would use this blog post to go around the horn, and do a brief check in with three components of my life as a Tucson Borderlands Young Adult Volunteer: Faith, Work, and Community. FaithThis Sunday, we completed our Southern Arizona church tour! Our site coordinator, Alison, arranged for us to visit various churches across the Tucson area during our first month and a half as YAVs. Our house visited Trinity, Southside, St. Mark’s, Holy Way, St. John on the Desert, and Mountain Shadows Presbyterian Church. The purpose of these visits were to introduce us to the various Presbyterian worshipping communities in the Tucson area, connecting us with the wider faith community we are a part of in this city. Each church was unique, but the one thing they all shared was radical hospitality. We introduced ourselves to the congregations, and they responded with warmth, curiosity, and joy. Now that we are done visiting churches as a group, each YAV will choose their own worshipping community to be a part of. While I have not made up my mind where I will worship, I know I will be fully welcomed wherever I choose. WorkI am now a month into my work at Community Home Repair Projects of Southern Arizona. As the seasons change, we have less and less cooler repairs, but our work of fixing roofs, plumbing, flooring, electricity, and everything in between continues. The cooler weather has transformed my morning commute by bike. What used to be a hot and sweaty slog is now a cool and breezy ride. I have also started to split my time between working in the field and in the office. Two days of the week I am out making repairs, and the other two days I am in the office helping CHRPA’s Development Director, Carrie, with various tasks ranging from grant writing to data entry. This past thursday, I worked on and submitted my first grant for CHRPA to Wells Fargo! CommunityOne realization I have recently come upon is that being a YAV is not merely being a part of one community, it is being a part of many communities. Over the past month, I have began to form communities with my housemates, co-workers, church congregants, and Tucson residents. The community that I have the most interactions with is our YAV house. We have known each other for over two months now. This means we have a degree of comfort with each other, and can laugh together, dive into deep topics together, and, sometimes, disagree together. It has been a rewarding experience to get to know Ryan, Miranda, and Dakota, and to hear their fears, realize their strengths, and appreciate their senses of humor. And yes, I realize I included my wife in that list. Despite having known her before YAV, this experience has taught me even more about her, mainly just how much strength, resilience and compassion she has within her. Thank you for going around the horn with me. As the year goes on, I will try to occasionally do this exercise to continue to give you a sense of the life of a Tucson YAV.
Peace, Tanner Well, I’ll tell ya… -I didn’t know until I got here, really. I knew I would be working at the YWCA. I had interviews and talked with my to-be supervisors. But I knew nothing about how the day-to-day would play out in this wildly new environment (and I didn’t want to.. because.. living in the present).- Here’s some info on my new life, as I’ve received and experienced so far:
2. The remainder of Mondays and Thursdays, as well as Tuesdays and Wednesdays (martes y miercoles), are devoted to office assistance at HNS’s Women’s Business Center (WBC). There are actually over 100 of these centers all around the country, each funded by the U.S. Small Business Administration (federal grant money ….. AKA tax dollars). WBCs offer education and tools to entrepreneurs who face obstacles getting started in the business world (think oppressed groups: anyone born into poverty ∞ women ∞ people of color ∞ the queer community* ∞ the physically disabled ∞ the mentally disabled ∞ veterans ∞ etc. etc. etc.). You don’t have to be a woman to start a business through South Tucson’s*WBC, but the office itself is run by women, so we be passin’ down feminine-styled leadership and business techniques <buh-bye patriarchy>. 3. On Fridays (en viernes), I spend time with my three housemates, whom I met at the end of August. We’ve all ended up in the same house, despite our differing backgrounds and personalities; and our goal is to give each other honesty, generosity, compassion, kindness, grace, and, really, anything else that falls under the umbrella of unconditional love. We share meals together, manage a budget together, and \more importantly/ laugh and cry together. This practice of intentional community is a beautifully unique part of the YAV program. It seemed intimidating at first, but I live with three real stand-up people, so I feel hopeful and grateful for the time I have left with them. 4. I’ve spent a lot of my free time exploring the city via bicycle ~ trying to make friends, viewing the vast amount of public art, and undoubtedly seeking out the food culture. I need ideas for cooking community meals! And, when given the opportunity, I eat out at really dank food trucks and family-owned businesses. I don’t think I’ve eaten any “American food” since I’ve been here, just food from around the world that has made its way to Tucson. *South Tucson is a 1.02sqmi portion of Tucson that has historically resisted annexation from the city of Tucson. This resistance, unfortunately, has led to the city remaining in poverty, hence the need for thriving local businesses in the area. S. Tucson’s cultural richness comes from the Mexican community – an estimated 84% of the population – which has carried with them music, recipes, holidays, and so many other profound traditions.
*As someone who belongs to the queer community, I am reclaiming that word {queer} which people have historically used in a derogatory way to insult those who identify non-straight/non-cisgender. I’m also disinterested in typing out all the letters used as a labeling system for a group that I simply see as beautiful humans, free to love and express however they want. I have subtitled this post “Part 1” because I expect that I will revisit the topic of intentional community periodically throughout the year. Intentional Christian Community is one of the core values of the Young Adult Volunteer program. It is one of the reasons that I was more drawn to YAV than other service year programs. I thought that I knew, more or less, what intentional Christian community meant. I am learning, though, that I did not. In fact, I’ve been living in it for nearly two months, and I still feel like I am barely scratching the surface of fully understanding intentional community. Although this post will mostly focus on the positive aspects of intentional community, it would be deceptive not to mention the challenges. When I imagined intentional Christian community prior to my arrival, I pictured theological discussions, playing board games, and sharing meals. (All of which are regular occurrences, by the way). What I did not consider were multi-hour long conversations about the house budget, tensions caused by trying to cooperatively write a grocery list, navigating conversations that were too deep for my patience or energy levels at the moment, or figuring out how to kindly ask a housemate to stop using my bath towel. All of that being said, communication and cooperation within our house have improved with time. As we get to know each other better, we are finding patterns and rhythms that work well for the four of us. Not only was I naive to the challenges that intentional community would entail, I did not know the joy and comfort that it could bring. I feel deeply cared for by my three housemates. I get the sense that they want to get to know me– really get to know me– so that they can better support me. I know that their love and friendship is always there, but sometimes days go by without giving it much thought. But there have been a few instances in which it really hits me: I acutely feel intentional community. One of those times was on Wednesday night during our community meal. We have community meals every Wednesday and Friday, which means that one house member decides what to cook and buys the ingredients, and all four of us cook and eat together. This Wednesday’s meal was a bit different than the rest, though, because we were short a compadre. Miranda went home because of a family emergency, and so was not physically with us. We did, though, Skype her in. Tanner, Ryan, and I gathered around the laptop, and shared with Miranda our recent trials and joys. We expressed our support to her and her family. She shared her concern and solidarity for me, as my family is currently facing a crisis that is uncannily similar to hers. At the end of our Skype call, Miranda asked if we wanted to pray together. Tanner, Ryan, and I joined hands. The four of us took turns praying for each other– deep, genuine prayers of concern and love. In that moment, I thought, “This is intentional Christian community.” I also felt a strong sense of intentional community a couple of weeks ago when the four of us attended dinner with a Tucson Borderlands YAV board member. It was probably nothing like you would expect dinner with a board member to be. This board member, Julie Karra, lives with her family in an intentional community here in Tucson. The community is comprised of 11 adults, some with grown children, some with young families, and some single. There are several houses and a condo-like building that back up into a large outdoor space. In the outdoor space is a chicken coop, a reverse osmosis water tank, a washing machine, a bike rack, lots of space for kids to run and play, and a large wooden table where they share a meal every Friday evening. We were fortunate enough to have been invited to partake in one of their Friday community meals. Everyone there seemed to deeply care for each other and be excited to hear how everyone’s week went. The kids seemed to trust all of the adults, regardless of whether they were their parents or not, which reminded me of the saying, “It takes a village to raise a child.” I was inspired by the happiness that I witnessed in this cooperative, simple living-focused community. I learn more about community and what it means everyday. While I realize that living in intentional Christian community will not be without its challenges in the next 10 months, I am excited to live into the joy and support that it can offer.
My time in Tucson so far has been a phenomenal experience all together with many unexpected twists and turns. That is not to say, however, that it has not been without its challenges and the highs and lows that naturally accompanied it. For this update I will be specifically focusing in on the major moments that have occurred so far during this journey. Since the post is titled “Highs and Lows” I will be following that logical narrative by first speaking of the major positive experiences I’ve had so far. The most important one I first want to highlight is that the overall community of Tucson is a very welcoming and inclusive space that sometimes brings to mind a small town vibe. Because of a lack of multi-tiered buildings everything is quite spread out which means if you frequent the same spaces you’ll be sure to begin to see reoccurring faces. Another wonderful aspect that goes along with this is the sense of community engagement and pride. Everything from voting issues to various social programs and events are all met with mostly positive engagement from all levels of society. Groups of people even walk down the streets with clipboards asking all those who pass if they’re registered to vote and if they can help them do so if not. The Community Food bank is also involved in a variety of community engagement programs outside of its normal day to day activities including the farmers market (which I work directly with), internal promotions of various community events, and seasonal events such as a community pumpkin smash the weekend after Halloween to help create a positive engaged atmosphere surrounding the removal and destruction of rotting pumpkins after Halloween. All pumpkins during the event are then composted and used in the Food bank garden to grow food that will then be sold directly through the farmers market. The greatest aspect overall of YAV life in Tucson is the monumental amount of opportunities and encouragement by the community to engage with them. Since we have been here I have already worked with a migrant shelter, taken part in a Monday night Spanish class, had a wonderful dinner with members of a PCUSA backed community home group, completed a workshop on the historic and current events in Columbia (known as the Columbia Accompaniment Program), and the Tucson Meet Yourself community event was this weekend. This event hosted various ethnic groups from across the globe with food, performances, and music all in one. My house community went last night and just in the short time we were there we grabbed some plantains from a Jamaican booth, enjoyed some Indian food, and witnessed a variety of musical styles from a Hispanic dance group to a bagpipers group to finally a Zydeco music group from Jamaica. Now, as promised, for the o so loathed lows of my time here. The hardest part of being here so far has in many respects been adjusting to the various cultural differences of Tucson. Now this is not in any way to suggest that people have been rude or unwelcoming, actually, as stated above, quite the contrary. It has just been mainly small things such as mannerisms, the idea of payment scales, differing cultural and political identities within social life, and peoples varying perceived norms of speech and behavior. This however has mainly just been a process of adjustment more than anything. The other major low since being here was that during the Columbia Accompaniment Training my bike was stolen. During the event my bike was u-locked right outside the building to a street sign but the thief unbolted the sign and lifted my bike over and off the pole and away he went. To make matters worse, this was also done in a parking lot on private property in the middle of the day. As a result, I am currently using another older model in our shed from previous YAV years. Other than that the only other real challenges have been getting adjusted to a new climate, new city, and a new community at home. Regardless, I still feel blessed that my lows have been somewhat limited during this major transition process. Now that I am settling into a more autonomous position at home and at work I am still thoroughly excited to see where this journey takes me as the holiday season approaches. One upcoming event I am currently very much so looking forward to is in El Paso from November 1st through the 4th. While attending we will be learning about the current state of the Texas Mexican border wall and the state of immigration movement along it with special guest speakers from the PCUSA national office to boot. Regardless of the journey so far, I still feel so blessed to be able to take part if this amazing experience and the life changing challenges that come along with it. I am also equally excited to see where this journey will take me next and to have all of you walking beside and supporting me along the way. Until next time…. My year as a Young Adult Volunteer (YAV) in Tucson, Arizona is officially underway. These past three weeks have been filled with a mix of joys, challenges, and everything in between. Yet one common thread that has defined my time here thus far is firsts. As a YAV in Tucson, I have experienced foreign and new situations on an almost daily basis. Below, I will reflect on some of my most significant firsts during my brief time here. First Time in a Desert During my first few days of exploring Tucson, a thought kept running through my head: “where is the green in this barren city?” Coming from a city of trees and manicured lawns, the site of dirt and gravel stretching in all directions was a stark change. Upon looking at a map of the city on my phone, I noticed several blue lines running through Tucson. Recalling the rivers and watering holes that dotted the Central Texas landscape, I was eager to see a splash of blue in the desert. However, every time I rode over one of those blue lines on my bike, I found that they were simply dry creek beds, and water only runs through them a few times a year. It was during these moments that I fully began to understand just how different of a place I had entered into. Three weeks in, and I still sometimes miss the site of grass or a flowing river, but I am no longer think of Tucson as “barren.” The city is abound with various types of wildlife, flora, and natural splendor. It is simply different than where I came from. Then, just today, I drove over a fully running river. It was full from a day of rain, and was strikingly beautiful against the backdrop of the rugged desert landscape. As my time here progresses, I hope to continue to find beauty in the desert. First Time at CHRPA For several weeks now, I have worked as a volunteer for Community Home Repair Projects of Arizona. This organization provides free emergency home repairs and handicap modifications to low-income and elderly residents of the Tucson area. As I have no previous handy-man or construction experience, everyday at CHRPA brings a new first. So far, I have had to learn how to fix a cooler, build a wheelchair ramp, replace a toilet, install a new sink faucet, and put in a door. Other new experiences this job has brought about include waking up before the sun rises, biking to work, and riding the bus. To say I am out of my element would be an understatement. It is hard work, and sometimes I feel like I get in the way more than I help when making a repair. I also find myself tired, sore, and most of all, hot. All this being said, I am amazed at the knowledge and passion of my coworkers and the lengths they go to in order to help the residents of Tucson. I have only begun to see the impact CHRPA has on people’s lives, and while it is difficult work that often leaves me frustrated, I feel proud to be part of this organization. First Time at an Immigration Shelter During our first week in the city, the Tucson YAV house volunteered with the Inn Project. The project is run through First United Methodist Church of Tucson, and provides a shelter for primarily Central American asylum seekers recently released from detention. Most refugees stay in the shelter before going on to their families in the United States who they will be staying with while their asylum application is processed.The shelter is set up in the church’s basement, and provides individuals with a place to sleep, three meals a day, and food and water for their upcoming journey. On the day we volunteered, 42 individuals were residing at the shelter. Immigration is an issue that I have learned about primarily through my wife, Dakota, who has worked extensively with immigrant communities through various non-profits. However, this was my first time being face to face with people who had just been released from immigration detention facilities. With my limited Spanish, I struggled to communicate effectively with those we were helping, but all expressed immense gratitude towards us for volunteering. Most were families, and all seemed tired yet excited to soon have the opportunity to see their family in the United States. As I was leaving, I had the feeling that if more people could spend a few hours with those most impacted by our immigration system, the debate surrounding immigration would be quite different. First Time Fixing a Flat Tire Finally, I fixed my first ever flat tire on a bike during this past three weeks. In fact, I fixed my first nearly two weeks ago, and have since had to fix four more flats. With a plethora of thorny plants and frequent potholes, Tucson may well by the flat bike tire capital of the United States. These flat tires shattered my vision of what community by bike would be like. Before I started as a YAV, I had an hour round trip commute in my car, and I was eager to trade driving for the simplicity and free exercise that come with biking. It turns out, bikes are not the simplest of machines to maintain, and just like a car, regular maintenance is required. On one particularly hot day, I found myself changing a flat tire on the side of a busy street. At that moment, all I wanted was my car, which happens to be sitting with my parents a thousand miles away. The very next day however, I found myself biking to work with a repaired tire, a cool morning breeze in my face, and a view of the sun rising over the Tucson mountains. Often during these past three weeks, the experiences that have brought me the most frustration and the most joy have been one in the same. Thank you for taking the time to read this post! Have a great weekend and stay cool. Peace, Tanner |
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