Some months ago, Lucretia and I were at the bus station on a Saturday morning shift. At this time, it was not unusual seeing a dozen or so men arrive from Pearsall or Karnes, needing us to immediately arrange for their travel onward. As is the pattern for our team, Lucretia makes the rounds visiting with each migrant, asking about their trip and helping them understand the paperwork while I attend to details and pass out food and water.
On this day, we arranged a Lyft for three of the men, then stepped away to assist others while they waited. One of the men we were talking to paused to thank us for our help. Neither of us recall interacting very much with him, but he was watching and listening in on all our conversations. We exchanged greetings and introduced ourselves. His name was Juan.
Juan smiled, reached into his pocket, and pulled out this polished tiger’s eye stone. He said that he was from Columbia. He had visited a volcano in Ecuador and climbed up the side where he found this stone, which he polished and mounted on a chain. He had carried this on his long journey from Columbia, using it to remember his homeland in South America. He turned and gave it to Lucretia, saying, “On this whole journey I’ve faced hard times and have been treated poorly. This is the first time I have felt peace. Thank you.”
