Cards for the Casa

Some holiday traditions are both beloved and painful at the same time. Perhaps you delight in getting together with extended family, but there’s always that one crazy (angry/ racist/ sexist/ loudmouth/ abusive) uncle who seems to relish making everyone else feel uncomfortable or downright miserable. I have similar feelings about one of my newer holiday traditions: making Christmas cards for immigrants in detention.

For the third year in a row now, I’ve participated in making Christmas cards for asylum seekers who are in prison for no other reason than coming legally to the U.S. in fear for their lives and requesting asylum. This year friends from my church, two local colleges, and the immigrant community came together to hand-make the Christmas cards. ICE has strict guidelines for what they will and won’t accept and distribute: absolutely no stickers, tape, glue, or glitter, no envelopes, and only one or two of six approved greetings may be written in the cards. No signatures or organization names are allowed, only “your friend” or “tu amigo.”

My friends who organized the event this year did a brilliant job planning card crafting that was fun for both very young children and adults of all ages. Designs with white crayon served as wax resist for the children to paint over with watercolors. Illustrations of lights and ornaments were completed with fingerprints by children and adults alike. And paints, crayons, and colored pens and pencils were available for those who preferred to go freestyle with their designs. Christmas music played while students and professionals, young and old, parents and retirees, created and wrote 570 beautiful Christmas cards.

What could possibly irritate me about this new tradition? In this scenario, the racist, bullying uncle is Uncle Sam: the U.S. government. The fact that the U.S. regularly jails people who come legally to this country seeking safety from horrible violence and fear in their own countries is unconscionable. I’ve worked inside a detention center for women and children; I know the horror these neighbors are fleeing.

Casa de Paz is a hospitality house for immigrants who have recently been released from ICE detention. The Casa is a place where these immigrants can sleep in a comfortable bed, eat a delicious meal, and receive help making travel arrangements to reunite with their families. Every evening volunteers from the Casa show up at the ICE facility to welcome asylum seekers to Colorado. Casa volunteers will deliver the Christmas cards to the ICE detention center for distribution. They will also include a candy bar with each card, candy bars that ICE requires be purchased within the detention facility.

Our event’s organizer provided space within the creative process for participants to express what they were feeling while making the cards. She herself has worked in the past for an immigration service in south Texas, so she expressed feelings of grief for the treatment of immigrants. An undocumented community leader expressed that she was so struck by what her people are experiencing in detention that she could scarcely imagine wishing them a merry Christmas, knowing that it most certainly will not be merry for them. Several of us expressed gratitude for the opportunity to do something tangible that might bring a modicum of joy to hurting people.

We spent a moment in silence praying for the cards to do just that, and for the recipients to know that there are friends on the outside who care for them and want to welcome them to our country. May our efforts carry with them hope, love, joy, and welcome to our new neighbors.

If you’d like to learn more about Casa de Paz or donate to their ongoing work welcoming immigrants, or help purchase 1,000 candy bars, you may do so here:

https://www.casadepazcolorado.org

 

 

 

Reunited!

I first met SuLee three years ago. She had recently been resettled in the US as a Karen refugee from Burma, along with her two-year-old daughter. SuLee was a student in required English language classes, where I was a volunteer.

SuLee was a bright and hard-working student. She made friends quickly with the teacher and the other students. One day I wore a small gold cross pendant. I sat with SuLee during our break time, and she noticed my cross; her eyes lit up as she asked me if I love Jesus. I responded yes, I do, and she eagerly told me that she also loves Jesus. That was the beginning of our friendship.

SuLee brought much fun and happiness to our English classes. She was eager to learn and answer questions, and encouraged the other students to do the same. Even with her limited English, she loved to make jokes.

As our friendship grew, I learned that SuLee and her daughter lived only a few miles from me. I asked the local resettlement agency if I could be their cultural mentor, helping with things like giving rides to appointments and visiting in their home. SuLee invited me to her daughter’s birthday parties, and also to Karen worship in her apartment. I didn’t understand more than a few words, but I knew many of the hymn tunes and sang along in English. I took SuLee and her daughter to the zoo, to local parks, and to worship at my church. I collect used children’s books for her daughter, who loves to sit with me and “read.” She also loves to color and play catch with me.

SuLee likes to cook for me when I visit her in her home. She always asks me to pray before we eat, and for three years the prayers always included a common request: Please, Lord, release SuLee’s husband from the refugee camp in Thailand and send him here soon to be reunited with his family.

SuLee and her husband were both Karen refugees from Burma. They met and married in a refugee camp in Thailand, and their daughter is now five years old. Before this couple met and married, they had each begun their resettlement process separately, as single people. For that reason, when SuLee’s process was completed, she was allowed to resettle in the US with their daughter, but her husband was not allowed to go with them.

Three long years later, his process was finally completed. A date was set for him to travel. We waited eagerly, but a few days before his intended travel, it was cancelled. I don’t know why, but he was not allowed to leave the refugee camp. We continued to pray.

Meanwhile, the king of Thailand died. King Bhumibol reigned for more than 70 years, and the people of Thailand loved him. My friends and a little research tell me that the king left a good daughter who loves the people, and a bad son who doesn’t care about the people. Unfortunately, the son was the crown prince, his father’s choice to become the next king. My friends were worried about what would happen next. Would refugees be allowed to leave the country? We continued to pray.

Another travel date was set, December 14. Still we prayed. December 14 came and went. Now SuLee told me that December 22 her husband would come. More prayers. Finally, on December 23, SuLee told me that her husband had arrived the previous night! That news, along with photographic proof, were perhaps the best gift I received this year for Christmas. After three years apart, three years of heartfelt prayers, God answered. God was faithful to reunite this precious family at Christmastime. Praise God!

 

 

 

 

Sharing Hope for the Holidays

Imagine that you’re a child living in Honduras, Guatemala, or El Salvador, places where gangs control the barrios. The police are corrupt, and either can’t control the gangs or are in cahoots with them. Your mother is extorted weekly, forced to pay a bribe in order to sell the clothing she sews. You’ve stopped going to school because you’re afraid to walk through gang territory to get there. The gangs are trying to recruit you, but you don’t want to join. You saw what happened to your cousin… he was killed by the gangs. Then they came after your older brother.

Your father moved to the US two years ago to find work to support your family. When the gangs threatened to rape your sister, your mother decided it was time for your family to leave your home and join your father. You’ve taken buses, ridden on top of a train, and walked through wilderness. Finally, you sat in an inner tube while your mother pushed you across a river.

Once on the other side, where your mother told you your family would be safe, some officers took you to a cold, brightly-lit building. You had only the floor to sleep on, and one cold sandwich to eat for the next 14 hours. After that place, they put you on a bus and moved you somewhere else. Here you share one room with your family, but you can’t leave the room without permission and guards to accompany you. Even then you can only go to the cafeteria or the clinic. And there’s always a long line at the clinic because it seems like everyone else is sick, too. You don’t have any toys or books, and no friends. You can’t play outside. You thought you were supposed to be safe here and live with your father, but this place is a jail!

Christmas is coming soon, but you won’t be with your father, your grandparents, or any of your tios, tias, or cousins. You won’t have a Christmas tree, a stocking, or tamales. Will Santa Claus know where to find you? Will there be any cards or presents or treats this year?

Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service (LIRS) reached out this Advent to children in exactly these and similar circumstances. The US has immigrant detention centers in almost every state, including three that house children, in Dilley and Karnes, Texas, and Berks, Pennsylvania. LIRS organized a drive to collect Christmas cards and gifts to deliver to the children in these detention centers.

A group of compassionate friends joined me to write and decorate Christmas cards for the children. We showed a video to introduce people to immigration detention, and then we went to work! We played Christmas music to keep the atmosphere cheery. We wrote Spanish phrases with colorful pens, things like, “Welcome to America. We’re glad you’re here!” and “I wish you love, hope, and peace this Christmas.” We plastered fun stickers all over the cards and drew pictures. We even had Spanish/English Bibles available for those who wanted to write Bible verses in the cards. Together we sent 232 Christmas cards to LIRS to distribute inside the detention centers. Several of us also donated money to buy gifts for the children.

While this was a fun activity, the reasons for it are anything but fun. I pray that next year we won’t need to write such cards. I pray that by then our country will realize that children don’t belong in jail. I pray that our country will welcome asylum seekers who come to the US simply to live, parents and children running for their lives.

Meanwhile, a few of us are exploring how we can begin a visitation ministry inside the nearest immigration detention centers. My motivation is to follow Jesus, and based on Matthew 25 I believe Jesus is living among the least of these, my sisters and brothers in detention.

 

To read more about why asylum seekers come to the US, read Childhood Stolen by Street Gangs

To read more about the LIRS Christmas card and gift delivery, read Sharing Hope

You might also want to check out these videos for an introduction to immigration detention:

A Tradition of Welcome

Locked in a Box

 

 

Winter Party

Each year the local refugee resettlement agency throws a winter party for the refugees in the local community, as well as for partners and those who volunteer with refugees in any capacity: as cultural mentors, English language teachers, drivers, tutors, etc.

The pastor of the host church opens with prayer, and tells the honored guests (the refugees), “You are welcome, you are needed, you are loved.” The rest of the party embodies those words. There’s a potluck meal, so we enjoy food from a dozen or more different countries. Volunteers supervise numerous activities to delight the children: face painting, ornament making, gingerbread houses, cookie decorating. Local partners and community members donate mountains of toys—stuffed animals, soccer balls, dolls, art sets, cars, and games. The children get to choose toys of their own to bring back to their otherwise toy-less homes.

Hospitality and joy abound as we share food, gifts, memories, and songs together. Many guests wear colorful traditional clothing from their home countries. The director of the resettlement agency asks for one representative of every country present to come forward and say a few words in their own language—to me this is a sneak peek of Revelation 7:9, “After this I saw a vast crowd, too great to count, from every nation and tribe and people and language, standing in front of the throne and before the Lamb.” Inevitably the party turns to song and dance, our newest neighbors from a multitude of cultures and continents joining hands to celebrate together their newfound life and friendships.

This year we had the fun of celebrating with both the family we mentored last year, from Burundi, and the newest family we’re mentoring, from Democratic Republic of Congo. Our friends and their friends took turns posing for photos and passing around phones and cameras to document the occasion. Children and adults alike sampled foods new and foreign to them. Children played and created and celebrated. Together we joyfully celebrated new friendships, new families, new homes, and newfound community.

 

Las Posadas

Las Posadas (the inns or shelters) has quickly become one of my favorite Christmas celebrations. In the traditional pilgrimage, participants reenact the journey of Mary and Joseph from Nazareth to Bethlehem, searching for a place for Jesus to be born. In some countries, Las Posadas takes place over nine nights, from December 16 to December 24.

Where I live, Las Posadas happens on one evening in December. Two children dress up as Mary and Joseph, and lead the procession. The pilgrims (the other participants) carry candles and sing a traveling song—in Spanish—as we walk. The song goes like this:

Vamos todos a Belen
Con amor y gusto
Adoremos al Señor
Nuestro redentor.

Let’s all go to Bethlehem
With love and happiness
Let us adore the Lord
Our redeemer.

The procession stops at two prearranged places, where the pilgrims sing different songs requesting shelter. At each door, the pilgrims are refused entrance. Finally, at the third door, Mary and Joseph and the pilgrims are welcomed in and everyone sings the Entrance Song:

Entren santos peregrinos,
Reciban este rincón;
Que aunque es pobre la morada,
Os la doy de corazón.

Enter holy pilgrims,
Receive this corner;
For though this dwelling is poor,
I offer it from the heart.

Our local celebration includes authentic Mexican food for dinner, traditional singers and dancers, and small gifts and candy. The hall is decorated with piñatas in the shape of seven-pointed stars, to represent the Seven Deadly Sins.

Las Posadas is a poignant reminder of the immigrants and refugees seeking shelter in our world today. When we celebrate Las Posadas in December it’s often cold, and sometimes windy, icy, or snowy. In those conditions, we can’t help but think of those seeking shelter in our community and around the world. Mary and Joseph also remind us of the millions of refugees. After Jesus was born his family became refugees in Egypt when they fled King Herod’s Slaughter of the Innocents. How will we respond? Will we turn away those seeking asylum, or will we welcome them with food, shelter, and celebration? For me, Las Posadas is an affirmation of my own commitment to continue to welcome the stranger.