An update from our executive director
It was a cold night earlier this month when the 1999 Ford Explorer came back to Tapestry Farms.
The 26-year-old off-white SUV, with tan leather seats and just a little bit of damage on the driver-side door, was donated by one of our dear supporters a few years back.
It’s made the rounds since then, to a woman from Rwanda, a family of seven from Syria, and then a second family of seven from Syria. Today, a student from Scott Community College will get the keys. She is the daughter of a refugee from Rwanda and plans to become an immigration lawyer.
As I hopped in to get it to its new owner, I thought: This reliable, old car just keeps going.
It’s been a brutally difficult time in our country. The shooting deaths of Renee Good and Alex Pretti; videos of people dragged from homes, businesses, cars; and the image of a preschooler in a blue bunny hat and Spiderman backpack in the custody of ICE agents are searing. Dozens of refugee adults and children living in Minnesota—most of the people Tapestry Farms works with have refugee status—are being detained and sent away, too.
How do we respond?
We keep going.
We package and deliver food with our friends at St. Paul Lutheran for 30 refugee families who have lost promised federal food benefits. We gather for English language classes. We accompany families with children who have disabilities and medical diagnoses to appointments from Chicago to Rockford to Iowa City—and make plans for when they will likely lose their Medicaid coverage in October. We complete green card applications even though the federal government halted processing them for refugees. We write checks when families can’t make rent. We find jobs in an increasingly difficult job market. We grow food, make baklava and chocolate, and create gorgeous floral bouquets.
In the morning, in the afternoon, and in the evening, I repeat:
Focus on the people in front of us. Keep them housed and fed, with access to health care, work, education, and legal support. Stay the course. Stay grounded.
Fight by continuing to do the work, with clarity and persistence and calm.
Recently, a mentor of mine and I exchanged a few text messages. He recommended a book from Hanna Reichel, For Such a Time as This.
In the very first chapter, this stood out:
The storm is not an illusion; its dangers are real. Even so, it is also a distraction. No one can pay attention to all the things all the time. The highest waves raise your alarms—and may hide more inconspicuous but forceful blows. The waves may or may not crush you, but focusing on them will keep you from attending to what matters most to you. Karl Barth advises, “a short, sharp glance suffices.”
Don’t let the storm steal your focus.
Just like that beloved 1999 Ford Explorer, we will reliably keep going. We refuse to allow the storm to steal our focus. Thank you for being there with us on the journey. We appreciate it more than you know.
-Ann McGlynn, executive director