12/17/22

By Josh Rubin

We come to a pause in our Journey. People we have traveled with begin to scatter, back to their families. There are none that did not weep often, and while our minds are intact, we will not unsee what we have seen. Our efforts were humble, and my head is bowed before the immensity of the injustice of the border, which has been thrown into such high relief in these last days of our Journey of witness.

Many might ask us what good we did, and I can only wonder at that myself. We traveled back and forth across the border all along at the barriers trying to keep us separated, but we know by now the truth of what lies along the path, the need we could do little to relieve, and yet we have watched those valiant ones we met along the way and the daily acts of humility that sustain hope against all odds.

And we heard the voices in the cold dark morning along the fires built against the cold, children clutched in arms, voices raised in gratitude and celebration that their journey too might be paused. To watch the sun rise.

At the Pacific we wet our feet as that same sun that rises also sets. None can say we looked away.