Act of Kindness

I admit that I get irritated when Alberto asks me to make phone calls on behalf of the people he’s in jail with.  Call this guy’s sister because he needs more money in his commissary account, call this guy’s wife because the phone has calls blocked from the jail, and the reasons go on and on.  I really don’t mind helping people, what I mind is that these people end up with my phone number when I call them.  The latest call for assistance takes the cake for sure.

Alberto warned me that he had given my phone number to a woman named Nelia so that I could help her.  You see, Alberto had told his friend about how I made it so he could call Mexico and this friend wanted to do the same.  Nelia called me a scant 45 minutes later and I began to explain how to set up the accounts.  I was shocked to learn that she did not have an email address!  Since she described herself as computer illiterate, I took it upon myself to set up the system for her.  This process I discovered involves forwarding calls through Google Voice to a long distance provider called Localphone which then connects you to the number currently listed on their system.  The reason I agreed to set this up is because the phone calls between the boyfriend and Nelia were costing them a fortune as she was in the next state.  The telecom provider for the jail is one of those companies that loves to bleed people dry with fee upon fee upon fee.  I made sure all the settings matched what I had in place since the system worked for Alberto last week.  I told her what she needed to do to change the phone number the chain would link to in the end, but I have a feeling I’ll be changing the settings for her.

Stress and Oranges

This week so far has been more stressful then I would have liked, and it’s only Tuesday.  Alberto’s interview at the Embassy in CDJ on Monday, so yesterday I called Noemi who rented him an apartment during the last appointment to reserve room for him.  Noemi and her husband Agustin were so kind to the both of us during the first appointment in December, I feel lucky that we found them.   Noemi told me she would have the apartment ready for Alberto on Sunday, but if he was coming before that he should call her.   She also told me that Alberto should call Agustin when he arrives in CDJ, and he would go and pick him up from the airport or bus station so he wouldn’t have to get a taxi.  I think she heard the emotion in my voice when I thanked her so she told me that they would pray for us.  This woman that I had never met before is going to pray for us to find resolution.  It gives me such hope that someone who I’ve never met is going to pray for us.

A day of cleansing pain and whirling thoughts

Today was difficult to say the least.  This morning was the meeting of our Support Group for women who are married to Hispanic men, and it was my turn to tell the story of us.  I had prepared a story, thinking that if I could detach myself even a little bit I would be able to stay composed.  I minute I looked at the story typed neatly in my hand, I promptly burst into tears.  I told our story through a torrent of tears and emotional pain that I had no way of controlling.  I felt as though I was exposing my damaged soul for all to see, and for once I was not judged.  These women did not shut off their minds at the mention of undocumented immigration, or the situation that ultimately caused the dominoes to begin to fall.  They saw me as a survivor of a succession of shattering events.  They saw a family separated, a fatherless child.  They saw us, the Mendez family.  The simple kindness I was shown as gone a long way to restore my faith in people, and I have to thank my case manager for leading me to this group.

One of the women brought her son who was only 7 weeks old.  He is such a beautiful little boy with big eyes, and Ashley spent a significant amount of time kneeling and watching him.  Every time I looked over and saw Ashley, I couldn’t help but think to myself that Ashley was that size when Alberto left the United States.