Jorge Taborda
Jorge Taborda covers his mouth with his hand and his eyes fill with tears as he recounts the day that saw his family torn apart. It’s as if he is trying to stop the words from escaping, as if not telling the story can undo what has been done. But after a bit, the words come.
It was in May 2017, Jorge was at the hospital with his 14-year-old son, Stephen. It was a planned appointment. Stephen has been receiving treatment for a neck ailment his entire life. Then Jorge’s cell phone rang. It was his wife. ICE agents had stopped her on her way to work and she was being taken to nearby El Paso, Texas, to be processed for deportation. Agents had also picked up the couple’s oldest son, Jeff. She told Jorge not to go home. As Jorge and Stephen rushed from the hospital – not sure what was happening with the rest of their family – undercover ICE agents wearing street clothes were waiting in the hospital parking lot. They stopped Jorge and Stephen, who is a U.S. citizen having been born in this country after his parents came here fleeing persecution in Colombia 22 years ago.
Jorge pleaded with the agents to allow him to drop off his son at school before following the agents to the border patrol facility in El Paso. They acquiesced. On the way to the school the two went over the plan they had practiced so many times. Stephen would stay with another family who had been granted power of attorney for just such a situation. They prayed together and Stephen went into the school. Jorge started driving through Las Cruces with the agents behind him. He was supposed to take the highway to El Paso. At some point he realized he would be driving somewhat near the small Catholic church his family had been attending. And although he says he hadn’t previously planned it, when he came to the road that led to the church he suddenly turned. The agents were not pleased. At one point, according to Jorge, they rammed the rear of his car in an effort to force him to pull over. He showed me the dents in his car as his proof. At that point, Jorge says God took over and drove him into the church parking lot of Our Lady of Health, Roman Catholic Church. The agents parked across the street and as has been their instructions for many years now, did not enter onto church property in their pursuit.
Later that night, Jorge was slipped out of the Catholic church and moved to the nearby Holy Cross Retreat Center, a 36-acre spiritual facility nestled among abundant pecan orchards and run by the Franciscan Friars.
Jorge and Stephen have now been living in sanctuary at the center for over two years. Jorge’s wife was deported back to Colombia, where she is struggling to get by. The couple speak by phone most days. Jorge often sets his alarm for precise times in the middle of the night so he can call his wife to pray with her at optimal times according to their beliefs.
I don’t claim to understand much about Catholic rituals, but it is clear that Jorge’s faith is the glue that is holding his family together across two continents. Jorge is self-imprisoned in a place with many freedoms, his wife is free in a place that feels like a prison.
Jorge recognizes that his sanctuary location offers many advantages over those of his peers. He can go for long walks outdoors, which he often does, strolling through the rows of pecan trees. He also helps out around the center doing small maintenance jobs, mostly so he feels he’s still contributing… to something. Jorge says he prays everyday that his wife will somehow be able to rejoin him in New Mexico once he is able to leave sanctuary. It may indeed take a miracle to make that happen, but I wouldn’t bet against this family.