Boots on the ground

Let's do something

My husband has a pair of admirers in our neighbor girls. They’re young (maybe four and six), and don’t speak much English, but whenever we are working in the yard they glue themselves to Aaron’s side. Not going to lie, I’m a little jealous. I thought they would find me (the mom!) more approachable and friendly, but nope, I’m chopped liver—except when I bring out the cookies. The girls help Aaron pick up sticks, get distracted by the dogs, and chatter nonstop. It’s absolutely adorable and we love having them around. And don’t worry, I have talked with their mama—her in broken English and me in grammatically incorrect Spanish—and she knows that they are safe with us and always welcome.

Sarah Bessey recently wrote: “To resolutely stay human in a world that tells you 'empathy is toxic' feels like a hymn of audacity right now.” I feel like I need those words on a t-shirt or, better yet, tattooed to my body. As society tells us to detach, dehumanize, and disengage, being fully present and aware of the darkness around us is a grueling, painful act of rebellion. No, I will not look away—even when I want to. Yes, I will hold this space—even though it breaks my heart. I will abide.

abide | əˈbīd | verb

to continue without fading or being lost

The news of the deportation of three children—all US citizens—with their mothers a few days ago felt like a new rock bottom. According to the ACLU: A “U.S. citizen child suffering from a rare form of metastatic cancer was deported without medication or the ability to consult with their treating physicians – despite ICE being notified in advance of the child’s urgent medical needs.” One of the mothers is pregnant. Both were apprehended when they were attending a routine appointment in compliance with their ongoing immigration proceedings. They were all sent to Honduras with no opportunity to contact their family or legal representatives, and given no due process.

Just yesterday the news broke that ICE had invaded the wrong home in Oklahoma with 20 armed agents and held a mother and her daughters hostage for hours. They ransacked the home, took several of the family’s belongings as “evidence” (phones, laptops, their cash savings), and then left. The family are all American citizens. The ICE agents had the right house, but the wrong people.

In Florida, a mother was deported to Cuba and separated from her husband and infant daughter who is still breastfeeding. Heidy Sanchez is “inconsolable” and her baby keeps asking to breastfeed.

The New York Times reports that a two-year-old is in limbo after both of her parents were deported without her…

I’ve heard several people say “the cruelty is the point” over the last 100 days, but I’ve been reticent to agree. I have a hard time believing the worst in people, and have long hoped that kindness and commonsense would win out as we start to see some of the terrible results of poor legislation play out, but here we are. In what world are any of these scenarios pro-life? And how can decent people continue to make excuses for such brutal policies and blatant disregard for the sanctity of life?

I don’t have answers, but I do have a desperate need to do something, and a list of actions that we can take today. (Many thanks to Jason Lief and Dan Costen for sharing these resources at a recent immigration advocacy night.)

1. When you call your senators and representatives today, ask them to support the Dignity Act. It’s a bipartisan bill led by Reps. María Elvira Salazar (R-FL) and Veronica Escobar (D-TX) that consists of four core principles: (1) stopping illegal immigration; (2) providing a dignified solution for undocumented immigrants living in America; (3) strengthening the American workforce and economy; and (4) ensuring the United States remain prosperous and competitive in the future. It creates immediate protected status and a streamlined path for Dreamers and TPS recipients, expedites the processing of refugees and asylum-seekers, and implements a security and development strategy to address instability in Central America—among many other good and valuable things. In short, the Dignity Act is a win-win that allows us to secure the border while maintaining the dignity and worth of people seeking a better life in our country.

2. Check out the Evangelical Immigration Table, an organization of various denominations, theological traditions, ethnicities, and political perspectives that is committed to “providing discipleship resources focused on immigration from a biblical and missional perspective as well as advocating for public policies consistent with biblical values.” Their Take Action tab is full of ways to get involved that range from becoming a prayer partner to helping with refugee resettlement. There is really something for everyone here.

3. The National Immigration Forum also has an Advocacy Resources Landing Page where you can click links to automatically send letters to your senators and representatives, learn more, and become involved.

4. Have a conversation! Educate yourself about what’s going on and then talk to someone about it. Our words matter, and often the only way we change hearts and minds is through advocacy on an individual level, one person face-to-face at a time. It’s hard, I know, but we can do it. We have to.

Perhaps the best, most powerful thing we can do is refuse to look away.

I get it. My desire to tune out right now is fierce, but while I believe it’s crucial to take breaks and find joy, I also think that it’s imperative we do not become desensitized to what’s happening. I have to look at my neighbor girls (at every person I encounter!) and imagine that they have been the ones spirited away. If I can’t do that, if I worry that I’ve been infected by “toxic empathy” and am therefore “sinning” by acutely feeling the depth of fear and horror that my neighbors might be experiencing, I have detached myself not just from them, but from my own humanity. We belong to each other.

Our sweet neighbor girls are here legally, but that’s not the point. Whether they went through the appropriate channels to be in the US or fled for their lives, they deserve to be treated with kindness, dignity, and respect. In fact, I’d argue that if someone ran to escape violence of any kind, the necessity for care only expands. Of course, that does not incontrovertibly mean that everyone who is currently here without legal status gets to stay, but if we can’t address this issue by first acknowledging that our humanity unites us, our efforts aren’t just cruel and merciless, they’re soulless. (And if you claim to know Jesus, this isn’t an option—it’s a command. See: the entire unifying, love-soaked arc of scripture and the endless directives to love our neighbors and protect the widow, orphan, immigrant, and poor.)

It’s time for us to stop wringing our hands and lace up our boots. Our marching boots. Our advocacy boots. Our brave boots. Our garden-planting boots. We need to be in the streets and in our backyards, shoulder-to-shoulder with our neighbors, whoever they may be.

No one is coming to rescue us, friends. The change is on you and me.

Thanks for reading. xoxo - Nicole

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