Long time no write! This past month has been an absolute whirlwind, full of high highs, low lows, and lots and lots of laughter!
Meet a Casamate: enjoy these brief updates over the next few posts to introduce you the people who are becoming my family!
“How does one start something like this” -me two seconds ago… “Howdy y’all!” -response from Gibs (aka your beloved Gabriela). Soooo howdy y’all/hey hey/hi from H-town!! Tee hee sorry for that it’s getting late (ish), so apologies if this is not as ~well-written~ as the beautiful words you’re used to reading. Anyways, I’m Adeline! I am from the northwest suburbs of Chicago and went to school at Notre Dame (Go Irish!) where I studied Neuroscience and Italian. This year, I am serving at Open Door Mission, a faith-based residential substance use recovery center, where I am working mainly in social services. (I just told Gabriela I’m not sure what I’m doing with this, and she so lovingly looked at me and prompted me to talk about one of my favorite Texas experiences… consider this my transition to that topic hehe). This past weekend, we were driving back from DQ (yum :P) when we were BLESSED with a second sighting of a ~patriotic~ truck to say the least… supreme court composite on the back and headshots of each presidents on the side with the American flag as a backdrop *chef’s kiss* & enough said. I feel like that serves as the most Texas moment so far, but in terms of favorite moments, I would honestly say this weekend was a good one! Some of us had a good little country dancing moment which was so fun for the bonding, people watching, dancing, music and really just the all-around vibes. And then a cute seven and a half hours later we were in the car on the way to the Texans-Patriots game which was also simply a blast. And on that note, I am going to apologize for the nonsense that I just wrote and say ta ta for now. xoxo
Some things we have been up to (more photos to come!):
· Exploring the Menil museum and the Rothko Chapel (possibly the strangest place I’ve ever entered)
· Going to the beach in Galveston
· Hosting a Notre Dame tailgate
· Going to a coffee shop to do some reading and getting caught in a flashflood that came out of nowhere (and getting rescued by Emma, one of our housemates who drives a tank!)
· Going to the Houston Zoo (thanks to Sarah’s supervisor’s membership!)
· Going swing dancing!
· Going to A 2nd Cup (one of my favorite coffee shops of all time!)
· Going to a Texan/Patriots Game (thanks to the YMCA!)
The most Gabriela picture that has ever Gabriela-ed!
Go Patriots! Go Texans! Go JVC!
All in all, I am learning in my personal life that I am comfortable with these people. They invite me daily to tap into wells of deep joy. A joy that looks like dancing, bleach tie-dye, and splashing in waves. A joy that leaves my cheeks sore from smiling. A joy that I am learning to embrace on my own, as my own!
Work though has been a complete whirlwind and I feel daily like I am running up a mountain with a 50 pound backpack. I help send an affirmative and defensive asylum application this week, both applications were easily over 150 pages…each. I’m learning that the process of applying for asylum is close to impossible for people who don’t speak English. The filing directions alone are difficult to understand, and I am a native English speaker. The lawyers that I work with are also baffled by some instructions. We have made it so difficult, and it does not have to be.
The phrase I’ve uttered most often in my client meetings is this: “No tengo las palabras en ingles, ni español”, which translates to “I don’t have the words in English, nor in Spanish”. As a Spanish language-learner, client intakes are always hard to understand (meaning that I have to focus with every ounce of my energy in order to do so). More than trouble understanding though, I’ve been struck by my utter inability to respond. What is there to say to stories of immense trauma? “I understand?” I simply do not. “I’m sorry?” They are not asking for, nor do they require, my pity. “I get it?” No, I don’t. And they don’t want me to get it. “It’s going to be ok?” I don’t know that. And even if they win asylum, it’s simply not ok that this trauma is part of their stories.
Consequently, I’ve chosen honesty, even though it’s not enough. I don’t have the words in English, nor Spanish. But thank you for sharing a piece of your story. Thank you for your bravery. You are so strong. Inadequate words, but the only words I have.
So, what is there to do with utter pain and insufficiency in alleviating it? How am I supposed to respond to people who are struggling to submit their application for asylum because they don’t have enough money for passport photos? How am I supposed to respond to a client who says to me (and I’m paraphrasing a bit to protect identity): “I left my country because they were persecuting me, then I get here and they do this to me?” as they points at the ankle monitor that ICE slapped onto them, as though seeking asylum is a crime? Or how on earth do I respond to a client who, after sharing their trauma, said to me “A lawyer told me I wasn't persecuted enough to get asylum. Is this true?”
No tengo las palabras en ingles, ni español.
Not having words is one thing, but then these people bless me, which renders me speechless. "Que Dios le bendiga"
How am I supposed to receive that? Receiving blessings from people who are suffering is uncomfortable, particularly when there is little I can do to alleviate this suffering.
I don't have the words. And that doesn't happen often and quite frankly that scares me. Because I don't ever want to become numb to this. But maybe numb is what we have to become in order to do this work?
Every time my brain goes there, I firmly answer:
No. I refuse to buy into the lie that numbness will save us.
There is grace in this discomfort, and I must feel it all in order to move forward.
So, I will work to find the words, however difficult that may be. I'll fight to find the words, so that I can be sustained when things seem up in the air. And until I find the words, I will trust my feet, my hands, and my heart to lead me forward. I am only asked to follow, and I can do that speechless.
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