For years I’ve resisted looking too closely at the issue of immigration. After living in Honduras for 7 years, I left in 2014, and it’s taken me a long time to work through trauma that I experienced there. Upon return, I worked for a short while in a group home for immigrant teens who were seeking asylum. The stories, in many ways, were retraumatizing. Yet, they brought me comfort – reminiscing, cooking certain foods, listening to certain music. The same holds true today, just with less intensity.

For years I’ve sat on the sidelines. It’s easier to maintain some distance when what’s happening is many states away. Now, I spend a lot of time in Chicago, and I’m flooded with stories that are negatively impacting people’s livelihood. I can’t resist much longer.

When I first started going to Chicago, I learned about the number of Venezuelans that were shipped there in the middle of winter with no place to go. They lined the streets, and the city was forced to figure out what to do with them. I imagine some a threat, many not.

After sitting back and observing what’s happening on the news, I decided I wanted a closer look. Since I go often, people have asked if I feel safe going to the Chi. My answer – yes, I love it!

This week I played hooky with my son. We roamed the streets of the Chi, and I allowed myself to look up one of the ICE Detention Centers in Broadview. I wanted to see for myself – is it as bad as the news portrays? Is there a need for the National Guard and is it an appropriate threat to enforce the Insurrection Act?

Here is what I saw, and what I heard. As a storyteller, I’ve always aimed to hear from the voices themselves and to honor their stories to the best of my ability. Along with many looming questions, here is my attempt at sharing what I witnessed.

There is a 2-story brick building with a large fence blocking off the street so no traffic can go through. Apparently, it’s a fire hazard and the city has asked for it to be removed many times for emergency vehicles, with no action behind the request. The fence remains. There are two small, designated areas for protestors and media, blocked by large cement dividers. As we arrived, there was a Catholic man who showed us the ropes and gave us a bit of knowledge. He led us to talk with about 10 protestors that were standing there, peacefully. I observed the chalk writing on the cement dividers as we walked.

I engaged in conversation, allowing curiosity to take the wheel. One young man was dressed in an inflated duck costume. Isaiah asked him why, and he said it’s because he wants people to know that he comes in peace. One man had a megaphone and about 10 signs that he would rotate. Some were simply coming to check it out, and others planned to stake out for the day. Some came and some went. But all shared about how they’ve been protesting all over the city, and they have yet to see protestors out of hand.

I looked at a 2-story brick building with barred up windows. One woman told me that the windows used to be open and that they recently barred them up so no one could see outside. The building can house about 200 people, but it’s believed that it’s overcrowded and that the conditions are horrid. Only 4 days prior, two senators showed up and wanted to go in. They were denied access. The law states that any congressional member can access any federal building at any time, but this time the excuse was used that it’s “just a detention center.” Why the refusal of entrance? Why the barred-up windows? What are the true conditions inside, and how many are truly being housed there?

We witnessed a mother and son approach the building with paperwork, to leave again with no answers. Who are they looking for, and how do they find them?

As we started to leave, we observed a local news broadcaster do his gig. We found ourselves talking with a local ministry leader who works with a variety of Chicago Christian schools. He shared with me that he has had 3 high schoolers picked up by ICE while walking to school. I asked how their parents find out, and he told me that ICE doesn’t inform the parents, the school does. Ok, so what happens when the school doesn’t know either? How long would this lack of information about a family members whereabouts go on?

Later that evening, I saw that while we were in Broadview, another attack took place in another local neighborhood where ICE gassed a group of people (including local officers), as they took a man who had done everything he needed to legally. It’s also believed that of the 200 being detained in Broadview, many are following the legal process. What’s the need for this?

So, I’ve started getting closer to this issue. And I’ve started asking different questions. Some mentioned above, while the most taunting one remains: What happens in the aftermath, and who is going to be there to pick up the pieces?

We’re talking about traumatizing whole families, and entire people groups. Many of us who work in the foster/adoption world know, if even in the slightest, what it can look like to pick up the pieces for traumatized children. We don’t have enough people to take care of our own foster care system and now we’re separating children from their parents and calling it “justice.” What kind of emotional and mental assault are we inflicting when we tie children up with zip ties for hours on end, with no comfort from their loved ones? Who is going to step in and help heal that child, that family?

I watched Isaiah act as a 6-year-old does – Intrigued by the guy in the duck costume, a dog to play with, grass to roll around in, chalk to write on the cement with, pointing out the police cars. On the way there, I questioned myself as a mother. Also affected by the media, is it really as bad as they say it is?! The result, I’m so glad that we went.

Isaiah doesn’t know, but he was playing with the chalk in the very places that read, “F**k ICE.” He also doesn’t know just how nuanced this is, but he went to another cement separator and wrote, “BIBLE.”

As his mother, I took a second to simply appreciate that. I don’t desire for either of us to walk around defaming another. AND I hope he grows up to know that the God of the Bible we believe in is a God who SEES these people. He’s a God that cares about the conditions in which people are sleeping, if they’re eating. He cares about their family units and the safety of children; about their whole well-being.

So, I’ve started looking closer. And as it should be, the closer I get, the more questions I have, and the harder it is to keep looking…

May I keep looking.