After two months away on sabbatical, I returned to the Gates of ICE with renewed clarity—not because the work had changed, but because I had.
Charlotte and I spent ten days walking the Camino de Santiago before I lived for a month as a monastic guest at a Trappist monastery. The sabbatical gave me space to pray, reflect, and discern how I can best serve both the people we accompany and the future of Casa Alterna.
Ironically, that discernment began before I ever left.
In the weeks leading up to my sabbatical, Casa Alterna accompanied one of the most difficult cases in our history. “Ana,” a Venezuelan mother, and her two young daughters had exhausted every option after her husband, “David,” was detained by ICE. After selling their car to pay rent and exhausting every place they could stay, they were abandoned outside the Atlanta ICE Field Office with all of their belongings.
For more than a month, Casa Alterna became the family’s extended family. A Care Circle quickly organized lodging, transportation, meals, and practical support while we worked to return the family safely to Venezuela. One volunteer drove hundreds of miles so Ana and the girls could make one final visit with David at Folkston Detention Center. A few days later, other volunteers accompanied them to the airport for the first flight of Ana’s and the girls’ lives—and their journey home without him. Today, they are safely back in Venezuela, while the same Care Circle continues to advocate for David’s release.
Looking back, I realize this was the first gift of my sabbatical. It reminded me of something I have long believed: Casa Alterna’s deepest strength has never been found in programs or personalities, but in ordinary people who choose compassion over indifference. Heather’s gifted leadership during my absence, together with the faithfulness of our staff, volunteers, board, and supporters, allowed me to step away knowing this family remained surrounded by love. As we continue discerning Casa Alterna’s next season, Heather will continue serving as Interim Executive Director while I focus more intentionally on accompaniment, public witness, relationships, and vision.
Returning to the Gates of ICE after two months away, I immediately encountered that same spirit of accompaniment.
A young mother emerged in tears after her husband was detained during a routine ICE check-in. Her last message from him was a request to find someone to pick up her, their infant child, and their car. Later that morning, I met another woman trying to reach the northern suburbs of Atlanta. She had never ridden our public transportation before and had no idea how to get there. We walked together to the train station, where another Spanish-speaking rider gladly helped her continue the journey.
Sometimes accompaniment is dramatic. More often, it is wonderfully ordinary.
We cannot always change the outcome of someone’s encounter with ICE, but we can change how alone they feel walking through it.
A listening ear. A ride. A meal. A translation. A prayer. Directions to the right train. These simple acts cannot undo injustice, but they remind people of a truth that systems of fear so often deny: you are not alone.
In the Gospel, after Peter witnessed the Transfiguration, he wanted to remain on the mountaintop. Jesus instead led the disciples back toward the waiting crowds.
We do not stay on the mountain. We return.
Thank you for making that return possible through your generosity, prayers, and faithful partnership.
Written by Anton Flores-Maisonet
At the Threshold
Who in your own community may be feeling frightened, isolated, or forgotten? What might it look like this week to accompany them—not by solving every problem, but simply by helping them know they are not alone?