A Better Kind of Miracle

“Hi Michelle, blessings. I wanted to tell you that – thank God – I received my social security card and I have an appointment (provisional job offer) at Amazon tomorrow.” This good news came suddenly, and it pulled my friend back from the brink of a potential financial crisis. 

The spiritual implications were hard to miss, since I read her message during an online service of Quest Church, while singing about God’s power to perform miracles. I do believe that God can intervene when God chooses to – and so do my teammates in the church’s resettlement support team. But I don’t think it should require a miracle to rescue a newly arrived asylee from a broken immigration system. 

This story shines a spotlight on one particular form of hardship under Covid-19. Hardship these days comes in endless varieties, both around the world and here in the USA. The virus disproportionately attacks people of color and people in conditions of poverty. The necessary ‘lockdown’ has devastating side-effects in any community where people need to work outside the home in order to eat. Most of us are already aware of that, and seeking to help. But the burden borne by recent immigrants, whose wellbeing is hugely impacted by government systems, is often overlooked.  

There are various US immigration pathways, each with its own unique bureaucratic challenges. Asylum is the pathway of my friend – and the three other newly-arrived Latin American friends who share her apartment.  Under US and international asylum law, any person “with a well-founded fear of persecution for reasons of race, religion, nationality, political opinion or membership in a particular social group” may request protection in another country by showing in person up at the border or on the soil. In the US their case must be proven in Immigration Court, where the asylum denial rate in recent years has ranged from 50 to 65%. 

The fact that my friends’ asylum cases were eventually approved indicates that the security threats in their home countries were serious, and their journeys were tough.  I say ‘eventually’ because, like all US asylum seekers, they were held at length in a detention center while awaiting their day in court. One of them was detained for 9 months. And let’s be clear, a detention center is a jail. The vast majority of detainees have no criminal charges and pose almost no flight risk, yet they cannot afford to pay expensive bail for a temporary release. The 30,000 people still detained are in crowded conditions with a massive risk of Covid-19.

Upon receiving asylum, my friends were fortunate to enter a federally-supported small stipend program that subsidizes cheap rent, utilities, living expenses and caseworker assistance for four or six months. If participants find a job by the end of the fourth month, they receive two additional months of partial support. If not, they are dropped. Under normal conditions, it is challenging yet feasible for a newcomer who is learning the language and culture of the US to find a job within 4 months. But here’s the thing: the conditions are almost never normal. 

The first obstacle faced by my friends is the process of obtaining the three key documents that local employers look for.  All asylees have the right to work in the US, but it takes time to secure three documents from three government agencies: first an I-94 travel document, and then a Social Security card and state identification card. The latter two are contingent upon the first – so there is no progress without an I-94. Each document typically requires an application, supporting documents, phone calls, a face-to-face appointment, and patience. On average, the process can take one or two months, and it can easily reduce the four-month job-hunting window by half. 

More obstacles came with Covid-19. My friends confined themselves at home, which was especially difficult for those who had enjoyed just three weeks of freedom since leaving detention.  The economy crashed, and the available jobs were reduced to Amazon, grocery stores, and cleaning in medical facilities. The only roommate who had received her documents and begun work was quickly laid off when hotel guests stopped traveling. It didn’t slow her down for long; she subsequently received two other job offers! However the other three roommates were still awaiting work documents, and they were seriously impacted when all of the responsible government agencies closed their doors for lockdown.

My friends have faced this situation with courage, faith and optimism, buoying each other up like sisters. But it is not easy. When the closures were announced, one of my friends had not yet received even her first document, the I-94, despite having applied a month earlier. The US Customs and Immigration Service does have some emergency appointments available. However, every time our resettlement support team calls to inquire about this, we get a different answer. So far, the agency has declined to provide an emergency appointment for this asylee, despite the fact that she can’t work without documents, and is now just a few weeks from losing her subsidy due to lack of a job. 

The lockdown was necessary to save lives, and I am glad that Washington State temporarily closed up. But a lockdown must go hand-in-hand with support for people in vulnerable situations. Under the circumstances, it would seem logical for the US Department of State, which administers my friends’ stipend program, to make an exception on the job requirement and extend a few more months of subsidy to affected asylees. But…no. The Department of State, despite advocacy by several non-profits, continues to say ‘no’ to extension. At the same time, my friends are not eligible for Covid-19 stimulus checks, and not currently permitted to apply for any other sources of assistance.  

My energetic friends are very eager to work, including jobs for which they are overqualified. Several federal agencies are withholding their employment documents, while another federal agency cuts them off for being unemployed.  I’ve politely called this system ‘broken,’ because I want to emphasize the strength and resilience of my asylee friends, not my own anger. My friends have expressed gratitude to the USA for its protection. They are not the ones complaining – I am. Instead of broken, I might just as easily call our system ‘neglectful’ or ‘unjust.’ 

Returning to the miracle, my friend was within five days of cut-off when she received her final document and her provisional job offer from Amazon. Everyone involved gave genuine thanks to God for this dramatic rescue. But two of her roommates are still facing the financial brink, along with countless others. Wouldn’t it be better if we repaired the holes within and between our government agencies, so that we don’t abandon the people that we’ve offered to protect? Wouldn’t it be better if we reformed our immigration system to treat people with consistent dignity, respect and compassion? That, too, would require the help and power of God – and it would be a much better kind of miracle. 

Immigration: Whose Crisis?

Last week I had a brief, surprising moment of agreement with President Trump. He described the situation of Central American asylum seekers at the US/México border as a humanitarian crisis – “a crisis of the heart and a crisis of the soul.” I recognized that as a profound truth. Unfortunately, we do not share the same understanding of who is in crisis, and why. I recently visited the origin of the Honduran human ‘caravan,’ so I share here some insights arising from that trip, and what they mean to me as a US citizen. I suggest that the US shares more responsibility than we think for the pressures faced by asylum seekers.

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If you are an English speaker, ‘indiferencia’ means what you think it means. Honduran humanitarians not only see the US as saying ‘no’ to asylum seekers; they also perceive us as indifferent to their plight. (Used by permission).

First, some perspective: the US does face challenges, but there is no evidence of an ‘immigration crisis.’ According to the US Border Protection agency, undocumented crossings at the southern border have been in decline for 20 years.[1] The restructuring of small-group migration into caravans is new, but that does not necessarily mean that overall numbers are increasing. The notion that immigrants cause insecurity in the US has been debunked by more fact-checkers than I can count.[2] If there is a crisis in the US, it is a crisis of politics, and a crisis of conscience as we struggle to understand the interconnectedness of our region and its people.

I work globally,

but I blog about my own USA.

Sometimes that gets messy.

In November 2018, I visited San Pedro Sula, a key economic hub and the starting point of the first asylum seeker caravan. My job was to facilitate an analysis of the sociopolitical context completed by 32 local humanitarians, who use such analysis to shape their own organizational strategy. I felt anxious about my own US identity, because just as I was arriving in the caravan’s starting point, the caravan members themselves arrived at the US border and were denied the opportunity to request asylum. Making an asylum request to escape from violence and persecution is a human right recognized under US and international law, yet the US increasingly treats it as a criminal act.[3] It was a painful moment in international relations, and I felt ashamed, yet I was welcomed generously by my Honduran colleagues.

Migration was one of several themes addressed during their context analysis. I summarize here in simple terms the complex explanations developed by Honduran humanitarians as they analyzed the greater Sula Valley. They concluded that outward migration was caused by ‘crime’ and ‘poverty,’ just as we often hear in the media. However the intensity of those two factors, and their inseparability, are not widely understood by outsiders. Also, none of the causes that the humanitarians described had originated exclusively in Honduras; the causes are embedded in the wider web of dynamics unfolding across the Americas.

First, the mild-sounding term ‘crime’ actually refers to the massive networks of organized crime, including drug traffickers and highly sophisticated street gangs, that made San Pedro Sula the most violent city in the world 4 years in a row. From 2012 to 2015, hospitals and morgues in that city registered the highest rates of non-war homicides on the planet. The death rate has improved significantly over the past 2 years due to  government clampdown (despite the fact that some government players are also suspected of colluding in crime).  Even so, the level of violence remains high.

This is not the kind of violence that leaves civilians alone if they simply stay out of the way. Civilians are prey. Youth gang members are not only sought, they are forcibly recruited. Families and business people are extorted for cash under threat of violence, forcing them into impossible choices. What would you do if confronted with a demand to hand over either your life savings or your eldest son? If you couldn’t support your family because your small business income was drained by extortion? If you couldn’t trust the police to help? You would probably try to flee to a safer place – and while fleeing you would be at further risk of theft, extortion and human trafficking.

These violent forces are transnational. We know – but routinely ignore – that the transit of drugs through Central America is driven by uncontrolled demand in the US. The most prominent gangs, which Trump talks about keeping out of the US, originated in Los Angeles. When Salvadoran refugees fled a 1980s civil war fueled by US policies and funds, their youth encountered an already existing petri dish of gang culture in L.A, and new fusions emerged including the Mara Salvatrucha and 18thStreet Gang. After a decade or so of learning and operating in the US, many gang members were deported in the mid-1990s to El Salvador where they began to overwhelm that country in addition to neighboring Guatemala and Honduras. (Honduras, by the way, was a US ally during the Cold War, and did its part to shelter Salvadoran refugees).

Looking at ‘poverty,’ two-thirds of Hondurans experience it, and at least one-fifth live in extreme poverty.  It’s already clear that violent crime is a key source of economic vulnerability. Additionally, the transnational banana industry shaped the economics and politics of modern Honduras[4], and then contributed to poverty when export prices declined. Un- and underemployment are big issues, especially in the internationalized economy of the Sula Valley. The maquila industry – composed of foreign factories placed in Honduras to reduce overhead costs – is genuinely appreciated as a source of jobs. At the same time, there are not enough maquila jobs to go around, and those that do exist often come with inadequate salaries and protections. Government austerity policies, encouraged by the US-influenced International Monetary Fund to help stabilize the national economy, have the disastrous side-effect of increasing inequality.  Youth who lack opportunities find it harder to resist gang recruitment.

The Hondurans caught in this perfect storm of crime and poverty are the ones in genuine ‘crisis.’ My humanitarian colleagues called it ‘desperation.’ They do not foresee the flow of asylum seekers stopping, despite the fact that the first caravan is visibly stuck, until there is a change in the underlying factors that push people to flee. They are somewhat hopeful for sensible immigration reform in the US – but they also see indifference within the US population as an obstacle to political change.  They see Honduras as a country, a former US ally, finding new political allies on the international stage.

We as a US population need not be indifferent. None of the insights I’ve shared are new – though it is compelling to hear them from the perspective of Honduran humanitarians! Central American asylum seekers are not fleeing problems of their own making. They are fleeing because they bear the brunt of complex regionalized problems for which the US is partly responsible.The way to deal with a crisis in the neighborhood is by working together for the wellbeing of all the neighbors.  México is taking a creative policy lead, considering proposals for a managed increase in asylum plus major regional investments in human security and economic development. Let’s see if we as a US constituency can push our own politicians to catch up.

[1] Click here for US government data.  See also 2017 migration trend researchby the Center for Migration Studies of New York.

[2] For example: The Myth of the Criminal Immigrant, New York Times, 30 March 2018.

[3] Asylum law is a complex system that doesn’t currently work very well. Here are useful explainers from the American Immigration Council and immigration attorney Luis Mancheno.

[4] The banana industry is a brutal story of economic and political manipulation driven by the US-based United Fruit Company. For perspective: How US Policy Created the Refugee Crisis in Central America, Citizen Truth, 1 Nov. 2018.

A Warning from Anne Frank

Last weekend in Amsterdam I queued up for two hours in cold weather to gain admission to the Anne Frank House museum. There was no guarantee that there would be space for me, or that my endurance would last long enough to find out. But I made it inside! It was a profound experience. I don’t think that my reflections were much different from those of other visitors – but they were made timely by simultaneous events taking place in the US.

The visit to Anne Frank House was a reminder that human genius is extraordinarily ordinary. Anne was a typical teenage girl – she had crushes and she hung pictures of movie stars on her walls. She was also an aspiring author, writing not only diaries, but also short stories and the beginning of a novel, during the two years that her Jewish family was in hiding from the Nazis during World War II. After her death, her diary became one of the most influential books of the 20th century.[1]

Yesterday in Seattle, neighbors posted dozens of supportive messages after the Muslim Association of Puget Sound was vandalized.

The museum visit was also a reminder of how evil can creep its way into ordinary life. Why should this brilliant young girl die in the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp, one month before it was liberated, simply because of her Jewish identity? Why should over 100,000 other Jews in the Netherlands meet the same fate? Or 6 million across Europe? Every person who was lost bore the image of their Creator, just as Anne did, even though most of them never became famous.

When we reflect on these horrors we tend to state the obvious: this must never happen again. But it has happened again. On a large scale in the 1990s in Rwanda and the former Yugoslavia, and on a smaller scale in cases like the current persecution of the Rohingya ethnic group in Southeast Asia. So Anne’s story reminds me of the horrible things that can happen when we begin to view our fellow human beings as anything other than human beings.

In the US, dehumanization rose sharply during the recent presidential election. By ‘dehumanization’ I mean viewing other groups of people as less than ourselves, to the extent that we deny their basic rights and dignity as human beings. President-elect Trump did not invent dehumanization – in fact, its roots run deep in our culture. And I do not claim to know Trump’s inward intentions. Nonetheless the impact of his divisive campaign statements has been a visible flourishing of dehumanization.

The Southern Poverty Law Center has identified over 700 incidents of post-election harassment against immigrants, Blacks, LGBT persons, Muslims, women and occasionally even against Trump supporters.[2] Those statistics are difficult to interpret, yet the cultural phenomenon that they highlight is real. It’s worth noting that a number of the harassers linked their boldness directly to the election results with explanations such as: “Now we can say what we really think.”

Last weekend, while I was visiting the Anne Frank House, white nationalists held a conference in Washington DC. Their goal is a ‘white ethno-state,’ a country exclusively for people of European origin. They used to meet in quiet corners, but this gathering was open and assertive. In the words of one participant: “I never thought we would get to this point…The culture is moving more in my direction.”[3] Lest anyone miss the point, the conference also involved hailing the election results with recycled Nazi slogans.[4] Trump later made a comment condemning this group, which was very welcome, but very minimalist. A lot more leadership will be needed to contain the ugliness that has been unleashed.

Also last weekend, while I was visiting the Anne Frank House, someone vandalized the Muslim Association of Puget Sound (MAPS), the Seattle area’s largest mosque. The sign reflecting the Muslim community’s identity was struck with a sledgehammer. Despite the obvious hostility, this story is now unfolding in a beautiful way. The number of perpetrators who attacked the sign is, I would guess, probably around two. The size of the crowd that showed up yesterday to express solidarity during a MAPS Open House appeared to be well over two hundred. I saw them there – over two hundred individual expressions of shared humanity – and they were powerful.

Comparisons to the Nazi era tend to upset people, so let me be clear: I am not saying that the level of dehumanization in the US is equal to that of the Nazi past. I am saying that we are at risk of moving in the wrong direction. I am saying that we all have a role to play in determining what happens next. At this point citizen action can make a difference – so let us take decisive action. It doesn’t matter if you are a Republication, a Democrat, or something else. I hope that you will be motivated to action by a commitment to shared humanity. As the late Israeli statesman Shimon Peres stated upon visiting the Anne Frank House: “It’s not a memory, it’s a warming to all of us.”[5]


Update: Shortly after writing this post, I learned that I had underestimated the number of people who showed up for the MAPS Open House. I had guessed well over 200; happily MAPS counted almost 500! On 9 December, MAPS’ new sign was dedicated in a ceremony that featured multi-faith religious leaders from all over Seattle. On 17 December, the sign was vandalized again. The incident is being investigated as a hate crime. MAPS continues to engage their community by being a good neighbor.


Comments are welcome, as long as they are respectful and non-discriminatory.

[1] https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01LPRRIAG/ref=dp-kindle-redirect?_encoding=UTF8&btkr=1

[2] https://www.splcenter.org/hatewatch/2016/11/18/update-incidents-hateful-harassment-election-day-now-number-701

[3] http://www.nytimes.com/2016/11/20/us/politics/white-nationalists-celebrate-an-awakening-after-donald-trumps-victory.html

[4] http://www.nytimes.com/2016/11/21/us/alt-right-salutes-donald-trump.html

[5] http://www.clevelandjewishnews.com/columnists/regina_brett/chilling-memories-live-at-anne-frank-s-house/article_7df501e4-c2a8-11e4-9bdf-dfef400ac5d2.html

The Other Thing Happening in Paris – Climate Change

My chiropractor recently told me ‘There’s no guarantee that you won’t have more than one problem at a time.’ He was speaking the truth about the health of my spine. And his words are equally true when applied to the state of our world.

256px-The_Earth_seen_from_Apollo_17Most people who know me assume that I am preoccupied with the escalating violence and the deteriorating relationships around the globe. And I am. I’m feeling the turmoil, and spending most of my waking hours trying toward contribute reconciliation and peace.

On that theme, so many things to say: Let us mourn deeply for the lives lost this month to attacks this in Paris…and Beirut and Kano and Bamako and Minneapolis…Let’s grieve for victims of all nationalities and religions, whether they were killed by our enemies or by our allies. Let’s plan for security to protect innocent people in ethical ways. Let’s make America’s streets safe for African American citizens. Let’s welcome refugees, even when we feel frightened or inconvenienced. In the words of the best article I’ve read this week, the world is scary as hell – love anyway.  

Paris this month seems to symbolize all the sadness one heart can absorb. However violence and resilience are not the only things happening there. Paris is also host to the global Climate Change Summit, running from 30 November to 11 December. Yes, there have already been a lot of inter-governmental meetings on this topic. And, yes, there will probably be a lot more. But this one is particularly important because it aims to reach a new global agreement on aggressively reducing greenhouse gas emissions.

This Summit arrives just as 2015 is declared likely the warmest year on record. While there are legitimate differences of opinion, the mainstream scientific consensus is that we face ‘severe and pervasive impacts’ to human life. Those impacts strike unequally. The USA and other industrialized countries have caused the problem, and they continue to dominate emissions policy negotiations, while developing countries bear most of the pain. Within countries, the poor and marginalized face the toughest situations of all. There is good reason to consider unjust climate policy as a form of violence.

So we have more than one problem. And those problems are now colliding. The French government has cancelled a public outdoor march that was scheduled to coincide with the invitation-only Climate Change Summit. This seems reasonable in light of the heightened state of Paris security but guess what? it further silences the voices of ordinary people, including those most affected by climate change. It makes it less likely that we will achieve fair and scientifically adequate outcomes.

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Small steps of change. This isn’t petrol!

So what can I do? I can pray for a heart big enough to hold more than one problem at a time. And for discernment in how to invest my time. These dilemmas are very practical – for example, this weekend in Seattle, there is a Black Lives Matter event that has been on my calendar for months. There is a Rally for Refugees. And now there are multiple climate events, designed to stand in for the global crowd that won’t be marching in Paris. I don’t have the capacity to do all of these things.

So…gulp…this weekend I’m choosing a climate rally. Frankly I’d be much more comfortable marching for black lives or refugees, and it will hurt to miss those events. But my personal conviction is that if we continue to ignore climate change, it may soon overtake the rest of our problems. Climate may become like an unexpected fire that consumes our towns while we are busy fighting with our neighbors.

So, off I go to march for climate justice. And to actively support the friends and colleagues who are hitting the streets to speak out on other issues. There are far too many problems in this world to tackle them in isolation. Let’s link our arms and take action together.


This week there are more than 2300 marches taking place all over the world, to coincide with the Paris Climate Change Summit. To find an event near you, check out: https://secure.avaaz.org/en/event/globalclimatemarch


Earth photo “The Blue Marble” by NASA (crew of Apollo 17). Public Domain.

Homemade Lessons for a Global Life

Nancy GarredIn honor of Mother’s Day, this is a modified version of the eulogy that I wrote for my Mom, Nancy Garred, who passed away on 30 January. Mom loved being locally rooted, living nearly 50 years in Tumwater, Washington State, and all her life in the Pacific Northwestern USA. I, however, lost my local roots in my early twenties. This is my own reflection, summed up in the words of a recent Dodge commercial: “Don’t every forget where you come from!”

Here’s the thing: many kids do forget where they came from, and globe-trotting kids like me are worse than most. After spending half my adult life overseas, ‘home’ became a foreign country, and ‘family’ a cross-cultural experience. I became very different from my parents, to the extent that we sometimes lacked enough common interests to sustain a lively conversation. Even so, I recently realized recently how deep their influence runs. Here are five powerful lessons for life – and for peacebuilding – that I learned through observing my Mom.

Lesson #1: Value all people equally. I was pretty unaware of status differences during my early childhood, and that was Mom’s doing. She befriended an unusually wide range of different types of people, from different stations in life, and she treated them all with respect. I did not recognize until later in life that this was rare. Mom made it look normal, just as it should be.

Lesson #2: Live simply. Mom did not put on airs. She did not spend what she had; she spent only what was necessary to get the job done. She did not try to create an ‘image’ for herself; she just lived every day in the straightforward, understated way that she thought best. I think she enjoyed life a great deal because of it!

Lesson #3: Believe in girl power. It was a privilege to be raised by a 1960s-era feminist, in the best sense of the term. I never doubted my ability to contribute to the world, or my right to pursue it. Of course we are all products of our generation – so Mom never did shed the assumption that it’s every wife’s job to cook every night! But she challenged her generation on its own terms, and she came out on top.

Lesson #4: Love nature. Nature was a constant, life-giving presence in our family, from our pets to our camping excursions. There were times when Mom despaired of my impatience with bird watching, or my teenage preference for shopping malls over woodlands. But I grew out of it. I ended up an open-water swimming, forest running adult with a growing passion about climate change. I came to see that peace among humans requires harmony with our environment.

Lesson #5: Be true to who you are. Mom enjoyed being quiet, disliked religious institutions, grew to distrust medical advice, prized independence … and she never pretended otherwise. In her older years she occasionally appeared stubborn. But there is great freedom in having the courage to simply be yourself. When I follow this example, I breathe easier, and I relate to others more easily too.

Some of these truths are deeply rooted in me as a person and as a peacebuilder. Others are things that I still aspire to. For all of them, I thank my Mom, Nancy. Her quiet influence lives on!


Nancy Jo (Bailey) Garred lived an amazing and vibrant life, far more than one eulogy from one daughter can capture! To see her obituary, go to: http://www.islandfuneral.com/notices/Nancy-Garred.


Photo by Sarah Ellen Photography.