I left the Amor Ministries campground in Mexico last night around 9:15 p.m. to return back home to San Diego after visiting the Family Camp group. I wasn’t happy when I realized that I was in my personal van, which didn’t have the necessarry permits to cross through the shorter dedicated commuter lanes (Sentri), and would have to sit in the much longer normal traffic lanes. My mood worsened when I saw a line of cars going to the U.S. that I estimated would take at least an hour to get through. (After crossing the border for almost 32 years I’m pretty accurate in guessing how long it will be – this night took about an hour and fifteen minutes.)

So I found myself in line with plenty of time to reflect… on Family Camp,  on Mexico, on Amor.  I also watched people that I had been missing by going through the Sentri lanes.  Moms holding their babies were begging.  A man with only one leg hopped up and down the border line asking for spare change. Men with grimy rags aggressively cleaned windows with the hope that one would give them a buck.  Then I saw this:

A mom and dad holding the hands of their two little boys – a family just like the ones for whom we build.  Of course,  I don’t know their exact story or why they were at the border.  But I could tell they lived in one of the communities in which we work – in one of the makeshift shelters that barely protects them from the elements.  And it got to me.  Just like it is now as I write about them with tears in my eyes because I HATE POVERTY.

I wanted to open my door and ask them to come in.  The van, my van, that I was cursing just a few minutes earlier is a better shelter than where they live.

It’s been said to me several times in the past year, either directly or indirectly, that I would tell people they are safe to come to Tijuana because I need to get those houses built.  I find that incredibly offensive. Anyone that has uttered those words should be ashamed, especially if they have ever been on an Amor trip. But I will not apologize for the fact that I do indeed want those houses built.  We build homes to keep families together.  Maybe, just maybe,  that family at the border last night needed a home.  I will never know.

What I do know is this:  I needed to sit in that border line.  Because even I, as someone who goes in and out of Mexico on a regular basis, need to slow down and see God’s people.  And now I am left with trying to understand how so many that committed to come to Mexico this year could cancel knowing that a family would not get a home.  Maybe everyone needs to sit in the border line.

By Gayla Congdon, Founder and CSO of Amor Ministries

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