A STIRRING
By Katie Myers The men patiently waited their turn to retrieve their bus tickets from the counter. Dressed in nondescript clothing, they carried their belongings in the kind of coarse…
EDUARDO
By Barbara Edens Eduardo from Ecuador arrived at the airport. He had not eaten, so I walked with him to the café in Terminal A and bought him a…
DO YOU REMEMBER ME?
By Sr. Sharon Altendorf Last week, a young Spanish-speaking man asked me if I remembered him. I’m sorry to say I did not. A year ago, he told me, he…
RUTH AND NAOMI
by Dawn Silvius One sunny Saturday morning this past winter, I stopped by the bus station to deliver fresh lunches. There were six or eight migrant mothers and children…
THE PHONE CALL
By Jan Olsen Once at the bus station, a father and son were dropped off from the Karnes Detention Center. I could tell immediately that the father was very stressed. He shared…
WENCY
By Mary Grace Ketner and Jo Pendleton In August, Moon Sanchez Brand often found herself as a volunteer on-site manager at the Bungalow Shelter, a short-term, city-sponsored location where migrant families…
OLD VERSE, NEW MEANING
By Katie Myers One day, Sr. Denise brought to the bus station some Spanish Bibles that had been given to her. We offered them up to the families who were…
TO ALL THE IMMIGRANT CHILDREN COMING FROM THE CENTRAL AMERICAN COUNTRIES
I wish I could give you days of joy Bring you pop cycles to cool Your little mouths And water sprinklers To dance in the cool water. I wish I…
Naptime at the Bus Station (Volunteer Poem)
By Cherise Miles Little ones curled up in their mama’s brazos, the safest bed and mas comodo than anything they’ve slept in for the last three months. Even a…
Alone at the Bus Station (Volunteer Poem)
by John Dauer The Greyhound station has people everywhere, noise, luggage of all types, talking, movement, sitting, walking, standing. I look and look and see no one as…