BY ELYSE MCMAHON
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2020 has been a year of uprooting. Uprooting the places, people, and thought patterns that made me feel most comfortable. I left the city where I had studied the past four years and said goodbye to friends who felt as close as family, not knowing when I would ever see them again. I returned to my childhood home and had countless uncomfortable hours to reflect on where I had been and where I was going. I knew at the end of summer, I would be flying 1700 miles away from home to embrace even more change. As someone who loves meeting new people and exploring new places, I am equally averse to change.
 
At the beginning of quarantine, I read a piece by Gloria Anzaldúa, “Now let us shift . . . the path of conocimiento.” She narrates the process of moving from one way of knowing to a new way of knowing or conocimiento. It is a process of inner transformation and uprooting. She writes,
 
“To learn what to transform into you ask, ‘How can I contribute?’ You open yourself and listen to la naguala and the images, sensations, and dreams she presents...Your inner voice reveals your core passion, which will point to your sense of purpose, urging you to seek a vision, devise a plan. Your passion motivates you to discover resources within yourself and in the world. It prompts you to take responsibility for consciously creating your life and becoming a fully functioning human being, a contributing member of all your communities, one worthy of self-respect and love.”
 
Holding Anzaldúa’s words of advice close to me, I moved to El Paso and stepped across the threshold into the next stage of my life characterized by an unfamiliar language, vast mountains, and 100+ degree weather.
 
I went into this service year with a resolve to listen more than speak and tread lightly. I was determined to form relationships with my neighbors and coworkers, yet I was unsure how to do so without screaming of white saviorism or colonization. Not to mention, I was working from home amidst a pandemic. Forming friendships and becoming familiar with a new city wasn’t exactly intuitive. I spent the first six weeks of my time in El Paso reflecting on my path towards conocimiento and uprooting thought patterns seeped in white supremacy, racism, and patriarchy that have made me complacent in the past. I took a backseat and observed as I learned from my coworkers at Las Americas, some of the most incredible activists I have ever met. As I slowly met the people around me, I was still unsure of my place in this community and I held back from leaning into any new relationships. Afraid to do harm, I kept a guard up to protect those around me as well as myself.
 
If you know me, you know I am incredibly klutzy and forgetful, despite my desire to be seen as graceful and coordinated. I knew it would just be a matter of time until my clumsiness came to bite me. One afternoon, I was at the office by myself to complete a few tasks for my team. Trying to be quick and efficient, I leaned down to throw something out and quickly came up and hit my head on a cabinet. I put my hand to my head to check the damage, and was alarmed to find that I was bleeding. I was by myself in a new office without any sort of plan in case of emergencies. Without thinking much, I called my coworker who I had yet to meet in person. My team was incredibly welcoming, and my instincts came over me to call on them for help. She answered instantly and drove to the office with bandages, water, and immense kindness. My other coworker stayed on the phone with me to calm me down. Within a few hours, half of my team reached out to me to make sure I was ok, despite me wanting to keep my embarrassing accident to myself. Fortunately, the effects of the injury were mild and I was back to work the next day. Yet, the effects of the accident went much further than a physical bump on my head. That night, I reflected on my intuition to be able to call on my team despite just meeting them the month before. All along amongst a group of badass immigrant advocates, I was nervous to say or do the wrong thing and was unsure of how to integrate into my work culture. Yet, in a moment of crisis, I knew deep down I could count on my team thanks to their warm welcoming of me into their lives. I was filled with such gratitude despite a clumsy day.
 
A mere 24 hours later, I was working from home by myself when I went outside to bring in the garbage can. Excited to get a moment of sunlight, I absentmindedly walked outside without shoes, without a phone, and without my keys. I blamed my lapse of judgment on hitting my head, but regardless of what caused me to close the door behind me, I was locked out mid afternoon without any way to contact someone to let me in. Feeling rather dumb, I called on my instincts and thought of my next move. Should I wait outside for three hours for my roommates to come home? Or should I try to use the resources around me? I decided on the latter and walked next door to ask my neighbor if I could borrow her phone. Having memorized only my mom’s number, I called her and asked her to go to my email and find my local coordinators number. She did, but unfortunately my coordinator was in a meeting and did not see my phone call. Back to square one. Despite my embarrassment and beating myself up, I was met with warm hospitality for the second day in a row by someone I barely knew. My neighbor, a young woman with a three year old son invited me in to wait for my roommates to come home. She offered me water and insisted I try a Gansito, the Mexican equivalent of a Twinkie, as she asked me about myself and how I was liking El Paso. She made dinner as her son beckoned me to play hide and seek and watch Toy Story 4 in Spanish. The hours passed with gratitude towards my neighbor as I waited for my roommates to come home.
 
That week marked a shift in perspective as I continue to discover my place in El Paso as a 22-year-old, eager-eyed volunteer. The first six weeks of working at Las Americas I felt like a sponge trying to soak up as many immigration acronyms and Spanish words as possible. I was overwhelmed with admiration for my coworkers and wanted to figure out my place in the organization by pushing myself and learning. While I expected to learn some of the intricacies of immigration law, I did not realize that I was also soaking up lessons from my coworkers on hospitality. It took a series of absentminded mistakes for me to realize how welcomed I really had felt by this city. In moments of clumsiness, I was greeted by grace and kindness by strangers welcoming me to their city. I am still very much on the path towards learning and unlearning, and each day I am overwhelmed by the changes I am facing. But despite all of the discomfort, I am finding solace and gratitude in the relationships I am forming. Working with immigrants each day, I am faced with the opportunity to extend hospitality in the same ways I have been shown by my neighbors and coworkers, even when I am not sure of my place or of the right way to say a Spanish sentence. While I hope there will be no more head injuries or locking myself out, I am hopeful to continue to learn from the warmth and hospitality of those I meet in this sunny border city.
 
Elyse McMahon (she/hers) is a recent graduate from the University of Dayton where she majored in Political Science and Human Rights Studies. In her free time, she loves spending time with others, having deep conversations, rock climbing, hiking, playing Scrabble, and reading too many books at a time. As an Ohio native, Elyse is eager to move to El Paso and soak up the borderland sun and join the Las Americas Immigrant Advocacy team. Elyse is passionate about justice, equity, and education, and she cannot wait to jump right into this work!

BY MADELINE BEAULIEU

Taking a step back to see what I know, why I know what I know, and how I know what I know is relatively new to me. I think this reflection is overlooked a lot in younger generations, including myself. Before I committed to my year of service within the Loretto community, I knew that I was a smart, driven individual, capable of critical thinking. That being said, within the last month of my service in Denver for the Loretto Volunteer Program, I have come to realize how all of those things can be elevated and enhanced when you are inwardly reflective of why and how you think the way you do. 

A month is a long time and also a short time, depending on the perspective taken. Is a month long enough to change a mindset or re-train the thoughts that come to the surface of our consciousness? In my opinion, at least partially. ​

As I near the halfway mark of my service in Denver, above all, I am tired. 

I get frustrated with myself for it. Why am I so tired? In college my days were longer, my commitments more taxing, and my schedule more hectic. Why is it that here it is so much harder to stay energized? 

BY LAUREN HUNTER

Small talk is usually one of my favorite things. I truly enjoy having conversations that stem from the basic get-to-know-you questions (Where did you grow up? What do you do? Wait, you ALSO love Dolly Parton?!), because I usually have a ready answer. However, during the opening retreat at the Motherhouse, I found people asking me questions that I had no set answers to. Mainly, these questions were about my work placement.

I remember eating meals in the dining room at the Motherhouse, sitting with different Loretto Community members, as we chatted and tried to find what we had in common. One of the things that we could easily connect over was volunteer work, as they had dedicated their entire lives to service. The Sisters usually asked me about the work I would be doing at my placement, Briya Public Charter School. And despite all the research I did for my interviews with Loretto and Briya, and all the email communication I had with my supervisor over the summer, I found that I had a hard time answering their questions about what my placement would be like. Of course, I knew what my job description was. But I felt like I wouldn’t know what to expect from my placement until I started my job. In fact, I was nervous. What would my students be like? What about my coworkers? Were my teaching skills actually good enough for this job? I had no idea.

​​The mountains here were formed much in the same way everything is—from lava. 
Scalding hot anger determined to run its course. 

But the lava here they keep contained. Trapped between cinder block walls, in chains, unable to rage then cool on its intended path.  

In here, they like to keep it cold. To kill germs, prevent disease, they say. But everything here is already sick. 

BY ADELE MCKIERNAN

Last month, I decided it would be essential for me to wed myself. Not in theory, in practice. This wouldn’t be a thought experiment; it would be a marriage. And there would be a ring, flowers, an outfit, vows.

I’m acutely aware that I’ve been known to make grand declarations for best-laid plans every now and then. My mom likes to tell the story about how I declared resolutely that I was moving away to join the circus—the first she’d heard of this—to my pediatrician during a routine physical. My college friends (used to be able to) recount the number of times I’d vehemently sworn off dating to “prioritize personal growth”. Then there were the many times I was sure I’d be married by spring. I’d convert to Judaism. Move to Israel. Move to Ireland. Become a nun.
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So, being adamant about my self-marriage scheme wasn’t off-brand— it was dramatic, and sensational, and romantic—it had all the markings of a classic decision inspired by familiar surges of equal parts fear and hope. Both absurd and logical and somehow a very good and not particularly great idea. But the whole thing was atypical in one critical way.

​BY BECCA KRASKY

Our fall retreat day opened with listening to Good News by Sweet Honey in the Rock, and an invitation by our facilitator, Rev. Anne Dunlap (UCC) to embrace the good news: good news that we were about to spend the day, together with about forty volunteers and staff from several other Christian service-year programs, reflecting on how white supremacy and institutionalized racism surround us in Denver. 
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