the pink backpack

The pink backpack was innocuous enough on its own. "The School of Cool" was emblazoned on the front, and faded panels of light pink, fuschia, and purple butterflies, flowers, and images of the Bratz dolls. It was the kind of backpack you might see any girl wearing on her way to school. 


Had this backpack been found along any highway, or in any thrift store, no one would give it a second glance. It was dirty, tattered, and clearly not salvageable. Even my dear Ryan, who loves giving cast off goods a second chance, would give this one up for lost. 


But this backpack was a symbol: of hope, and of despair. Yesterday, a group of Unitarian Universalists on a border trip, found this backpack along a migrant trail in hills outside of Green Valley, Arizona. The backpack had been abandoned. Why, we will never know. Was it dropped to the ground in order to help its owner make better time across the desert? Was it dropped because Border Patrol closed in on its owner, taking her into custody and later deporting her? All we know is, that backpack and its owner was in the midst of a perilous journey across the hot, harsh, yet beautiful southern Arizona desert. 


There were twenty of us on our border trip, discerning how we liberal religious people can create a faith-full response to the complex and heart-breaking issue of human rights and immigration. 


As the pink backpack was held up, our group stood in silence, the late afternoon sun create a golden desert glow around us. We took pictures of the background, hating ourselves for taking photos, yet knowing that we must serve as witnesses to the pain and suffering and death occurring along our border, because of U.S. economic and immigration policies. 


We left the backpack, knowing the sun and rain and wind would continue to destroy it. We saw so much that was heartbreaking, and yet ... we are grounded in our life-affirming faith. We will not let our broken hearts stop us from telling the stories. We are in the struggle, and we commit to using our power, and to listen to the spirit, and keep on moving forward until our borders are no longer places of death, but can become places of hope and promise.