Joy in the Ashes

In the Spring of 2023, Abara was offering support to a temporary camp of mostly Venezuelans in an abandoned building in Ciudad Juárez. The following story is about that time.

A few weeks after a horrifying fire claimed the lives of 40 people in a migrant detention center in Ciudad Juárez, our team and volunteers at Abara found ourselves in the midst of an unfolding humanitarian emergency.

Many families who had fled their countries were now sleeping on the streets or in parks, some waiting in shock near the scene of the fire for word of their loved ones. Most were escaping violence, poverty, or persecution in their own homelands, and had nowhere to go and little to eat. In the middle of this darkness, Rosi, our team lead in Juárez, felt a deep conviction that we needed to start feeding people.

With minimal initial funding from a supporting entity, chicken and rice were purchased, cooked by a Venezuelan chef at a church migrant shelter for men, and then delivered each night by volunteers to those in greatest need. Most of the volunteers were themselves seeking asylum and in only a slightly better position than those on the streets. One of the most gentle and kind volunteers had a seriously injured hand.

One night, we pulled up to an abandoned, unfinished concrete building that had become a refuge for hundreds. Inside were makeshift rooms created with blankets or cardboard, lit by the sporadic glow of small fires in cans. When we honked the horn, people quietly emerged, forming a line that stretched down the block, past a giant heap of garbage. The tragedy, the sadness, the bitterness of pain and loss, was palpable. Everyone felt it.

“Even in the shadow of death, beauty can rise.”

Then, in the midst of this heavy moment, a young man emerged from the building with a worn out guitar. He began to sing joyfully, first to the chef who had prepared the food, then to Rosi by name, thanking her, thanking God, and blessing all those who had come to serve. Slowly, the crowd joined in, clapping, some kids dancing, and singing along.

It was a sacred and electric moment. Joy broke through the sorrow. As each person came forward to receive their meal, I heard them express heartfelt thanks to the volunteers.

That night, it felt like death had no victory. It felt like joy was not in opposition to suffering, but part of what gives us the strength to endure it.

Those we met that evening had no illusions about relying on their accomplishments, talents or possessions. Yet joy still showed up — in song, in gratitude, in a shared meal. Joy became a sacred defiance against despair.

Psalm 146 says that “The Lord gives justice to people who are oppressed…bread to people who are starving…protects immigrants…helps orphans and widows…” Even in the darkest times, God is present.

Even in the shadow of death, beauty can rise. Hope endures.

“I pray that our lives are permeated with a joy that stands as an act of resistance — and a faith that recognizes God’s presence, especially in the most unexpected places.” – Sami DiPasquale, Executive Director

P.S. This story took place in early 2023. Today, in 2025, Abara is focused on helping families settle in Ciudad Juárez—supporting women’s holistic healthcare, school uniforms, and offering classes in computers, English, and music, along with trauma-healing workshops. In short, the work continues, the work is deepening, and your support is needed now more than ever.