Snow!

Yesterday it (gasp) snowed in Houston! Two days before it was 70 degrees and it’s now back to sunny 70-degree weather, but for one day Houston experienced a season other than summer. I don’t know how it happened, but the whole city was in shock as white stuff they have never seen before fell from the sky. While the snow only fell for a few hours and only stuck to cars, roofs, and bushes, the people in Houston ran to the grocery store and locked themselves inside like they were preparing for a hurricane. My roommates and I went outside to make snowballs and embrace the change in weather. Though the snow fun was short lived, it was nice to experience something other than hot, humid weather. From hurricane to snow storms, we’ve got it all down here in Houston.

Paz,
Stephanie

SOA Protest/ Ignatian Solidarity Network Teach-In

Recently I was blessed with the opportunity to attend the School of the Americas Protest and Ignatian Family Teach-In in Fort Benning, GA. For those of you who aren’t familiar with this event, it’s basically a gathering of thousands of social justice/Jesuit-lovers from dozens of high school, colleges, and communities from around the country. The weekend is packed with speakers, musicians, and prayer all centering on the theme of the nature of our Christian faith being intertwined with the struggle for justice. I first learned of the SOA while in El Salvador. The 6 UCA martyrs, Oscar Romero, Rutilio Grande (who my JVC house is named after), and the 4 Churchwomen were all victims of SOA graduates, as well as the countless innocent people massacred at El Mozote. After learning more about the SOA and meeting people in El Salvador affected by the violence I became more interested in the gathering, but never had an opportunity to attend. This year as a Jesuit Volunteer living out the four values of community, social justice, simple living, and spirituality, my attendance at the protest seemed quite appropriate since the event itself is a lesson on the interconnectedness of these values.

Since I was having trouble finding a way to Georgia, all planning for the weekend was spur of the moment. Thursday after work, Katie and I rented a car and drove 6 hours to New Orleans. We arrived at the JV house around 2:00am and spent the night on the New Orleans JVs’ couch. We woke up early the next morning and caught a bus with a group of students from Loyola New Orleans and drove 7 more hours to Fort Benning, GA. Loyola hooked us up with a hotel room at the Marriott, but since the NOLA JVs hadn’t planned out sleeping arrangements, we had about 5 people crashing on our hotel floor. Since Katie and I had spent most of our monthly stipend on renting a car, we survived the weekend by reverting to a simple Hurricane Ike diet of bread and peanut butter, which we brought with us from Houston.

Other than the over crowded sleeping space, hunger, and sleep deprivation; the weekend was an amazing and powerful experience. The sense of community at the protest was amazing. I had my JVC community and met past and present JVs from all over the U.S. and abroad. I had my Fordham community, some people I met while in Ecuador, and best of all I had my El Salvador community. It was great to reunite with everyone I studied abroad with and even some of the Salvadorians who traveled to the U.S. just for the event.

Friday and Saturday were filled with inspiring speakers. Some powerful speakers included the president of John Carroll, Fr. Niehoff, who kicked of the weekend with a call to action by saying, “Our dissatisfaction at injustice is a sign that the spirit of God is still working through us.” Fr. Niehoff was followed by a JV support person and Catholic Worker, Joe Mueller, who spoke on learning as a vocation and the need to continue educating ourselves no matter our age, because knowledge is always power. One of the most anticipated speakers of the weekend was John Sobrino, S.J., one of two survivors of the massacre of the Jesuits at the UCA in El Salvador. He gave a powerful speak on the need to take action against injustice in a non-violent way. He said, “We are called not to fight people, but environments where God is absent.” Saturday was concluded with a huge Mass. Sunday was the actual protest. Twenty thousand people went to the gates surrounding the military base. It was a somber, prayerful event. Everyone lined up holding crosses with the names of the people killed by SOA graduates as cantors sung out the names. After each name was sung, the crowd would respond, “Presente (Present).”

We marched slowly until we reached the gate and we placed our crosses in the fence as a kind of memorial to the dead. It took over three hours for each name to be called. It was an amazing act of solidarity with the people of El Salvador and everyone affected by injustice that words cannot describe.

Paz,
Stephanie

Joel Osteen

This past weekend my roommates and I went to Lakewood Church, or the Church of Joel Osteen. For those of you who have never heard of Joel, he’s a TV evangelist in Houston. He has billboards all over the city and every Sunday he’s on TV all day. He’s written two books on how to become a better person and he and his wife, Victoria, are mini celebrities around town. We were a little curious why Joel is so popular, so we decided to attend one of his services.

Lakewood Church is a converted basketball arena. The whole thing is a little ridiculous. We entered the church and there was a help desk and bookstore (actually there were bookstores on every floor). We were standing in the front entrance gawking at the larger than life sized poster of Joel when an usher asked if he could help us. We said we were visitors and didn’t know where to go. The usher told us to follow him. We did, and the whole time I felt like I was going to a concert or Broadway show. There were programs and number aisles and ushers in suits with walkie-talkies and flashlights. The usher brought us all the way to the VIP section. He pulled back the red velvet rope so that we could make our way to the third row. Since Joel is all over TV I’m sure we got some airtime since we were so close to the action.

As we waited for the service to start two jumbo-trons flashed ads for Joel’s newest book and CDs. The service began with the choir rising out of the fog as the diva lead singer strutted around the stage. Everyone in the audience was jumping around and dancing. The first hour of the service was basically a Christian concert. People were waving their arms and crying. This made me really uncomfortable since I’m used to just singing a few hymns out of a hymnal and then sitting, standing, and kneeling on cue. When Joel came out it was like a super star had just entered the room. People were cheering and screaming. Cameras were flashing. The whole thing was such a production.

Joel’s speech was a feel good message of keep praying and keep filling yourself with the Holy Spirit and good things will happen to you and you will gain all kinds of wealth. There was no mention of others. It was all about the individual and how to get ahead in life. The saddest thing is that people are buying this message. People want a religion that comforts them and makes them feel good. They see God as some kind of Santa Claus type figure who if you ask for it he gives it to you. Needless to say, Joel did not provide me with any spiritual insight, but he does score a few points for putting on a great show.



Paz,
Stephanie

Fall JVC Area Visit

This past week was our Fall Area Visit. Our Area Coordinator from the JVC office came to our house to evaluate us on the four values- simple living, community, spirituality, and social justice. We each got a chance to have a one-on-one meeting with the area coordinator to discuss how we have lived out the four values and how we can improve our JVC experience. The area coordinator also came to each of our jobs to make sure we were satisfied with our placements, had direct contact with clients, and that we are learning about social issues. It was a very busy week filled with lots of communal and personal reflections on how the year has been going so far. We have a strong community, and did very well on our evaluation. At the end of the week our coordinator offered suggestions on how we can take our experience to the next level.

On a random side note, while our coordinator was visiting we watched “La Misma Luna (Under this Same Moon).” It’s a movie about immigration and I highly recommend it. I was moved by it because it portrayed the experiences many of my clients go through. It gives a moving personal perspective to the immigration issue.

Paz,
Stephanie

Death Penalty Protest

On Saturday, Robin, Mary, and I decided to go to the Death Penalty Protest. Robin works for GRACE- Gulf Region Advocacy Center. Her organization helps represent people on Death Row. We decided to go to the protest to learn more about the Death Penalty and support Robin and her work.

There are currently 3,500 men and women on Death Row. In Texas, one of the states with the highest rate of executions, has 356 people currently on Death Row; many of those people are innocent. Some people on Death Row were sentenced under the Law of Parties. This basically means if you are in the wrong place at the wrong time you could be sentenced. One of the speakers at the march was a former Death Row inmate. He worked as a janitor in a high school. He was cleaning the school in the evening when he stumbled upon the murder of a girl. When the police came the janitor was taken to prison, unjustly tried, and put on Death Row for simply being at the scene of a crime he did not commit. The majority of people on Death Row are poor and cannot afford proper representation. Robin’s organization tries to help these people. We also learned that the average Death Penalty case costs $1 million to $3 million, while housing an inmate for life only costs about $500,000. So the Death Penalty wastes tax payer money.

There are also moral reasons why the Death Penalty should be abolished. It’s a way of playing God and deciding who lives and who dies. It’s not our decision as humans to condemn and punish others. I highly recommend reading/watching “Dead Man Walking.” You can also visit www.nodeathpenalty.org for more information.

Paz,
Stephanie

Fall Retreat

This past weekend was our Fall JVC Retreat. We rented a 15-passenger van and the 7 of us plus the 5 girls from El Paso drove out to Hazlehurst, Mississippi. It was great getting to see all the other JVs, and the retreat site was beautiful. There was a big lake with paddleboats and a dock to lie out on. The focus of the retreat was community, which was good because a lot of communities were already having issues. Luckily everyone in my house gets along really well. If we could survive the hurricane together then everything else seems like a minor problem. As one of our activities on retreat, we played “Community Feud” to see which community was the strongest. Mobile won, San Antonio lost, and we were in the middle, but I think the real test of community comes when the members need to bail you out of a sticky situation.

I was one of the main drivers for the 15-passenger van. It was a lot easier to drive than I thought, and I had no problems until after we had returned to Houston and had dropped El Paso off at the airport. I was driving the van with Mary and we stopped at the gas station next to our house to fill up before returning the van in the morning. As I pulled up to the pump I must have cut the corner a little to close and we heard a loud crunch and then a scrapping noise. I slammed on the breaks and Mary jumped out to see what happened. Somehow I had gotten the upside down U-shaped pole by the pump wedged between my back wheel and the metal of the car. I couldn’t go forwards or backwards. The van was stuck. As the two of us stood there just gawking at the van, a black lady pulls up, takes one look at the van, laughs, and says, “Shit girl, you did a number on that van.” Mary then calls the house and tells everyone to come to the gas station quickly and to put on clothes they can push in. Seconds later the 5 other housemates come running down the street. Now all 7 of us are gathered around the van laughing. Since the van won’t go forwards or backwards we decide to push the van to the side. So we all lean against the van and start pushing. Obviously nothing happens. Then this black guy comes running over to us. He said he had been on the phone, but was laughing so hard he had to hang up and come help us. He asked, “Do you girls seriously think you can push a 15-passenger van?” and then he asked, “What are ya’ll, some type of street gang? Are ya’ll from the ‘hood, ‘cause one phone call and you got your whole posse backin’ you up.” He then told me to get back in the van, put it in the lowest gear, and floor it. I did and the van popped free. As soon as I was free I started reversing and the guy yells, “Everyone get out of the way!” Everyone started yelling stop, stop, but I told them I still needed gas. We filled the van up with gas and Mary drove home.

We may not have won “Community Feud” on retreat, but I think the fact everyone came running to push the 15-passenger van makes us a pretty strong community.

Paz,
Stephanie

The Long Road to Recovery

Surviving the hurricane is a simple feat compared to all the challenges that come after the storm. The days immediately following Ike were exciting. It was a break from work, an opportunity to meet our neighbors and share hurricane stories, and a fun test in simple living. After a week, though, the excitement wears off and people become impatient, hoping that normal life will resume at any moment. After two weeks there is frustration, hopelessness, and the harsh reality that “normal” may take a while to achieve.

I’m relieved to say that after 13 long, hot, and frustrating days I finally have power back at my house. I felt like the last person to get power, but still half the city is without power. With things returning to normal at home, things at work got out of control. The hurricane caused Catholic Charities to flood, so I was out of work for a week waiting for the power to come back on and water to drain. When I did return to work, the carpet and baseboards were ripped out and plastic bags covered they sticky floor. Everything reeked of mold and some furniture had been ruined. My office, though, was miraculously the only office on the first floor that wasn’t damaged. At least I was back at work and could begin to get my routine back. Well, that was until Catholic Charities caught on fire. Our second day back at work and a transformer behind the building exploded and caught part of the building on fire. Firemen came to put out the fire and the electric company, already busy working to return power to the city, said it would take 2 weeks to fix. So again I am out of work, until we can find a generator large enough to power the whole building.

So as not to sit around the house all day with nothing to do, I decided to volunteer at the Red Cross food distribution centers in Galveston and Baycliff. I can’t say that I saw all the destruction from Hurricane Ike because the areas, like Galveston, that were affected the most are off limits. So the distribution centers were right outside of these areas. As people drove through to pick up water, ice, MREs (meals ready to eat), cleaning kits, and baby diapers I realized how many people were affected by this storm. You hear numbers in the news, but they don’t mean anything until you see the lines of cars and meet the actual people. The people driving though the lines had lost everything. The trunks of their cars were filled with whatever items they could salvage from their homes- lamps, tables, front doors. Anything that was a piece of their past. The MREs I loaded into the cars would only feed a family for a day and they would have to come back tomorrow and wait in line again just to eat. So many people came through that we ran out of food and supplies and those people drove away with nothing. It was very sad, but we had nothing to offer.

Last night, I attended an AIDS benefit concert with my housemates. At the concert one of the event planners stood up to welcome everyone and commented on how great it was to have so many support the cause. “In times of disaster, it’s the most vulnerable in our community that are affected the most,” she said. I didn’t need her to tell me this; I’ve experienced it myself.

After the hurricane, people in the suburbs and wealthy areas of town had power within one or two days. Centerpoint, the energy company, put out a priority list of zip codes and the order they would restore power. All the zip codes of lower income neighborhoods were last on the list. Since my housemates and I live in a poorer section on town we experienced first hand the frustration of waiting for power. We don’t have much as JVs, so we also felt the pain of losing all the contents of our refrigerator and the challenges of getting to work without a car and a bus system that wasn’t fully up and running. But despite all this, we were still in a better position than our neighbors. We have outside resources that helped us survive the storm and live out the aftermath more comfortably. JVC staff gave us extra money to replenish our refrigerator. People from our agencies gave us rides to work and opened their homes to us so we could sleep in an air-conditioned room. We always had people looking out for us, but who was looking out for our neighbors? They don’t have much to begin with and then the hurricane took away whatever they had left. I went to the library the other day and it was filled with people trying to fill out the FEMA applications for help. FEMA, though, is only giving out loans and the money will have to be paid back- something that will be difficult for the people who have lost everything, including their jobs. My housemates and I have reached out the best we could to our neighbors, but there are thousands of people all over Houston in similar situations.

After a natural disaster, the country comes together and sends all types of help and support, but after a few weeks the disaster is old news and people consider the problem fixed. Whether Houston is in the news or not, things are not back to normal and they won’t be for a while. Sure, big businesses are back up and running, but the most vulnerable in our community are still struggling and will be for a long time. Stuff like this doesn’t just affect you for a week. It’s not a simple fix like turning the power back on.

Paz,
Stephanie

Hurricane Ike

Being from a landlocked state, I haven’t experienced too many hurricanes in my life. So when reports began tracking a hurricane headed towards Houston, I had no idea what to expect. Houston area weather reporters are notorious for using “scare tactics” when reporting weather- that is exaggerating the situation in order to induce panic causing viewer ratings to increase and allowing the “Hurricane industry” such as grocery and supply stores to profit. On Thursday, I my agency closed early to allow employees to evacuate. This got me a little worried, but I was assured by neighbors that Hurricane Ike was a category 2 and nothing to worry about. So my housemates and I gathered all the survival essentials- water, candles, and Strawberry Pop-Tarts- and prepared to “shelter in place.”

Friday began as a fun day off from work until our landlord came by and boarded up our windows. That kind of made things seem a little more serious. Watching the news coverage of Ike we became a little more nervous as we saw Galveston drowned in waves. Still, everyone assured us a category 2 was nothing to fear and that Houston would be spared.

Around midnight Saturday morning Ike hit Houston and he hit hard. My housemates and I sat up huddled together in a back bedroom praying our roof wouldn’t fly off. The strong winds and rain lasted until 9am in the morning. Our house was relatively undamaged- only a few shutters fell off, plants were destroyed, a fan on our room blew off, and power and telephone lines were down in our backyard. Some of our neighbors fared far worse. Trees had smashed houses and cars, streets were filled with debris, a new apartment complex under construction turned into a pile of toothpicks, and 2 million people had no electricity.

The first few days of no power were fun. We got to use our camping skills to build a fire out of wood chips and used a bottle of Everclear as lighter fluid. We had dance parties at night in the candlelight and spent all day sitting on our front porch reading and talking to neighbors. As the das went on and we still had no power, things were a little less enjoyable. The tap water was contaminated and we had run out of drinking water. We had no hot water and no way to cook food. We had just made a big shopping trip to Costco and everything in our freezer and refrigerator had to be thrown away (this was very painful since as JVs we’re on a very tight food budget). Cell phone service was shaky and we had no radio or TV to listen to what was going on outside of our block.

So far it’s been a week without power. Some of my housemates have returned to work (my agency flooded and still has no power so I’m out of work for a while). We have been relying on the generosity of neighbors and agency supervisors to stay fed. We’ve been visiting the FEMA POD (point of distribution) sites to pick up drinking water and ice. Yesterday, though, our tap water was pronounced safe to drink, but still no power.

Compared to the images we have seen on TV, we are extremely lucky. The storm only inconvenienced us, but some people have lost everything. Many families (including one of my roommate’s) who relocated to Houston after Katrina hit New Orleans are again being uprooted and forced to settle down elsewhere. The other day officials allowed people from Galveston back on the island for a “Look and Leave,” which is basically a chance to survey property damage and then leave. There was a 15 mile long line of cars waiting to get on the island and they were all turned away yesterday since some people were looking and then staying. People are afraid that if they don’t try to salvage what’s left of their homes now, then things will only get worse and their home will be condemned, leaving them no place to live.

Though Ike was only a category 2 hurricane, the destruction it caused and lives it affected cannot be measured on a scale. As scary as the storm was, I am glad my housemates and I stuck it out in order to share the experience with our community. Nothing brings people together like a natural disaster. Please keep the people affected by Ike, especially those in Galveston, in your prayers. Like any city affected by a natural disaster, it will take a long time to rebuild homes and lives.

Paz,
Stephanie

The Joys of Bus Riding

Since I don’t have a car here in Houston, I’m completely dependent on public transportation- a.k.a. the Bus. After living in New York, I’m no stranger to public transportation and usually enjoy and prefer it to driving myself. Houston, though, is the exception. In my short time here, I have had quite a few bad/strange experiences on the bus.

During my first week of riding the bus to work, I quickly realized there is no set schedule. Buses arrive 30 minutes late or change routes mid-trip. This just makes things a little more exciting since you never know where you’ll end up.

Two weeks ago my bus crashed into a parked car on a straight road (only a skilled driver can manage this feat). As the bus driver talked to the angry car owners, everyone had to get off the bus and wait for the next bus. Everyone, not wanting to be apart of the accident chaos, quickly dispersed, leaving me and a woman standing alone in the projects. The woman started to chat with me and it didn’t take long before I realized this was no woman, but a transvestite. Always a colorful group of people on the bus. After about an hour the next bus finally came. The next day on we way home the same driver who crashed was driving again.

The following week as I rode the bus home a girl’s cell phone was stolen out of her hand while she was talking on it. The kid who stole it ran off down the street and a dramatic chase scene ensued. Again everyone on the bus had to get off and wait for the next bus since the original bus couldn’t leave the scene of the crime. As I waited an old man gave me a lecture on how I was in “the ‘hood” and need to watch out for punk youth. He also demonstrated how to walk around corners to avoid getting shot or stabbed. This was all very reassuring for me as I stood in a not so good part of town waiting for the next bus.
A few days later, I met Pat- a man who told me how he’s been sober for 7 years and now takes Prozac for his schizophrenia. As he was telling me his recovery story, a woman on the bus overheard us talking and offered her recovery story. She’s been sober for a year and no long does crack cocaine. Then another man on the bus started talking about how he hasn’t had alcohol in a few years and is now sober. Why everyone felt the need to tell me his or her drug recovery story I don’t know, but it did make for an interesting ride.

I’ve since switched bus routes hoping for a less eventful journey. Although the other day I had to wait a few minutes longer for the bus to take me home because it had caught on fire. Never a dull moment when riding the bus.

Paz,
Stephanie

A Visit to the Youth Shelter

So far work has been a little slow, mostly because I don’t have any of my own clients yet. I spend my days translating letters into Spanish, making phone calls, and manning the copy machine. I sit in on client intakes, but even that gets repetitive and dull when I’m not the one in charge. That’s why when one of the lawyers asked me to tag-a-long on a visit to one of the youth shelters I was more than willing to go.

The shelter was one of 4 shelters run by Catholic Charities where youth under the age of 18 go instead of a detention center when officials at the border pick them up. The locations of these shelters are kept confidential in order to protect the children from immigration officials and smugglers. The building was non-descript, and I walked past it everyday, but just assumed it was a warehouse or some type of office building.

Inside there were about 10 girls who slept, ate, and went to school in the shelter. They were from all different countries and had been separated from their families while crossing the border. They would remain at the shelter until lawyers from Catholic Charities could reunite them with their families.

The girl I was to meet with was a 12 year old from Chalatenango, El Salvador. This immediately caught my attention since Chalatenango was where I lived with a family for a week while studying abroad. As the girl began to tell us her story, I couldn’t help but think about my Campo family. The girl’s aunt and mother were living in North Carolina without documents. They had been in the U.S. for a while and the little girl was raised by her grandmother and another aunt in El Salvador. Then the mother sent money to the girl and told her to come to the U.S. So the girl set off with her older cousin. They walked and bused from El Salvador to Mexico, then came into the U.S. by wading through a river. Since they didn’t have papers, the girl and her cousin were picked up by border control. The cousin was sent to a detention camp since she was over 18 years old. We don’t know where the cousin is now. She could have been deported back to El Salvador for all we know. The girl was sent to Catholic Charities where we are trying to help her find her family. She’s been in the shelter for 3 months. Just like the kids I knew in the Campo, her idea of America was so skewed. In their minds America is this paradise on Earth and then they arrive and it’s quite the opposite. The girl must have been so scared. Her cousin was gone, and she was now help up in a shelter in an unfamiliar country with lawyers talking at her in poor Spanish about legal matters she doesn’t understand. The goal of Catholic Charities is to reunite her with her family in North Carolina and get her a court date to get her some kind of status, but she will most likely be deported. So when she arrives in North Carolina she will probably never go to her court date for fear of deportation and continue living under the radar with her family until they eventually get picked up by immigration authorities and deported.

Would people keep crossing the border if they knew all the troubles that awaited them when the reached U.S. soil? Living in fear is a horrible way to live, but in these immigrants’ minds it’s better than the life they were living in their home country. And there’s still that American Dream, that maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance things will get better and they’ll make it in America after all.

Paz,
Stephanie

Exploring Houston

Since arriving in Houston, we’ve quickly discovered we have a strong network of support. Former volunteers and people connected to JVC are all over the Houston area and they have done a great job of showing us around the city. On our first weekend we visited the Menil Museum, which has a mixture of modern art and ancient artifacts. Then we walked around the neighborhood surrounding the museum. We also visited the Galleria Mall, which is probably one of the biggest malls I’ve ever seen. This weekend we got tickets to the Astros game and then hung out of Discovery Green, one of Houston’s many parks, and signed up for library cards at the public library. As the fourth largest city in the U.S., Houston has a lot to do, but the layout of the city is not very walker friendly. Everyone drives and nothing is close or within walking distance. The public transportation is unreliable, so to do anything involves a long wait in the heat at the bus stop. Despite all that, though, we’ve still had fun exploring our new city.

Paz,
Stephanie

The “Good Samaritan Club”

We moved into our new house on Sunday. That Tuesday one of the former volunteers, Mike, stopped by to take us all to the bank in order to switch the account over into our names. With 7 people, we’re kind of a crowd wherever we go, and it was no surprise that we also caused a scene at the Washington Mutual Bank. Mike walked into the bank first and asked the lady at the front desk about switching the name on the account, as he was talking to the lady, the 7 of us came bounding in through the door. I think the lady thought we were going to hold up the bank since she suddenly looked really nervous and directed us to a man at a back desk and then she left the room. The guy at the back desk was definitely overwhelmed when we asked for a bank account shared between 7 people, with 7 debit cards, and checks with all 7 names. I think he also wondered why one guy was leading us around. As he entered all our info into the computer he was listening to our conversation about food stipends, personal stipends, and living arrangements. “What are you?” he asked, “Some type of Good Samaritan Club.” Sure we replied, but I don’t think he believed us. On our way out his eyes bulged out of his head as he overheard one of the girls ask Mike if he wanted two nice melons (referring to the surplus of honeydew melons at our house, not whatever “melons” this guy was thinking about). A few days later we received a letter from the bank with our account info and it was addressed to the Good Samaritan Club all in quotations. I think we were the most interesting thing to ever happen to that WaMu branch.

Paz,
Stephanie

Welcome to Polk Street!

While the orientation retreat was a blast, we were all more than ready to finally move into our new home. My community consists of me and six other girls- Mary (who’s my immediate roommate), Amber (who studied abroad with me in El Salvador), Robin, Emily, Katie, and Vicky. Luckily we all get along very well, which is key since personal space is limited in our house. The house is much nicer than I ever imagined. It’s a well-kept, three-bedroom, two-bathroom, single story home from the 1920s. We have a little backyard and a front porch with a swing. Our neighborhood is very Hispanic, so we’re not lacking taquerias, panderias, or pupusarias.

When we arrived, all of our agency supervisors had gathered at our house and threw us a welcome party with lots of food (which thankfully fed us for the whole week). After all the supervisors left, we began to unpack and clean the house. With years of volunteers before us, the closets were filled with tons of junk, some of which was quite “interesting” to put it nicely. Shortly after moving in, it began to rain, which led to the discovery of a leaky roof over my bed, and a phone call to the landlord who stopped by and fixed the roof. Other than the leak, the house is in pretty good condition and there are no roaches in the house (yet).

Paz,
Stephanie

Orientation

On August 12, I flew to Houston with basically all my earthly belongs (which isn’t much), excited to begin my year as a JV. On the flight I have to admit I was a little anxious about meeting all the other volunteers and my housemates. What if they were all weirdos and I was stuck with them for a year? All those fears were quickly dispelled once I met up with all the volunteers in the airport. Everyone was so warm and welcoming I instantly felt at ease. There are a total of 49 volunteers in the South, and we all crammed into an un-air-conditioned school bus with all our bags in weather that could rival the temperature of the sun. An hour and a half later, as we pulled up to the Circle Lake retreat Center, we all felt as though we had experienced more than enough of Houston’s hot, humid climate.

The Orientation Retreat was four days of lectures and reflections on each of JVC’s four pillars- simple living, community, social justice, and spirituality. The retreat wasn’t all reflection and seriousness. We also had a pool party, bonfire, and talent show (which seriously lacked talent). On the last day of the retreat we had a commissioning mass and group photos shoot. The whole week was a great way to ease into the JV lifestyle and bond with our community members.

Paz,
Stephanie

New Beginnings

As many of you already know, I have joined the Jesuit Volunteer Corps: South (JVC) and will spend the coming year in Houston, TX living in community and working with the marginalized and poor. I will be working for Catholic Charities' St. Frances Cabrini Center for Immigrant Legal Assistance. As a legal caseworker, I will be providing immigrants and refugees with low-cost and pro bono immigration related legal counsel and representation. I'm very excited about the work I'll be doing at this placement and also thrilled to have the opportunity to continue practicing my Spanish.

Since I'll be so far away, I’ve created this blog to communicate with everyone and keep you all posted on the happenings in my life. Also, for those of you who are interested, hopefully I can provide some insights into life as a JV. I hope everyone enjoys this and hopefully it will help us stay in touch!

Paz,
Stephanie