The gangs in Honduras began harassing Ana* when she was only 14. But after being abandoned by both of her parents when she was young, Ana’s support system was minimal. Beta Martinez, who works in the Clinic’s Immigrant Justice Program, says that the gangs waited for Ana to leave school in the afternoons. “They were telling her, ‘You need to be ours,’” she says.

For some time, Mario and his friend were harassed by a local Narco group led by the town’s own Mayor. “[The Mayor] tries to recruit all the boys to be murderers and vigilantes for him,” says Rachel. But Mario and his friend both resisted. This refusal came at a high price, and when Mario was only 16, the Narcos killed his friend in front of him. Mario barely escaped with his life.

For many of our clients, and for many of us, we know this pain well. Many of our immigrant clients come from countries where they faced brutal oppression and constant danger. Many of them lost loved ones and don’t know if they’ll ever see their families again. They were irreparably harmed, unceremoniously torn out of joint by people with power. What can be said to them? What can possibly be expressed to provide comfort and peace in the midst of such deep travail?

We've been celebrating National Volunteer Appreciation Week on Facebook by sharing old stories from the blog about some of our best and hardest-working volunteers. This month, we shared a new story about a volunteer attorney named Tim Fox, who is always committed to going "Above and Beyond" for our clients. We then met a recent employee of the Clinic, Jim Floyd, who started out as a volunteer for the Low Income Taxpayer Clinic.

Deeply entrenched in the community, their mission is about seeing a need and playing an active role in meeting that need. “We have always said that we want to be the kind of church that if we disappeared tomorrow that our communities would feel the loss,” says Wayland. “We believe that to get to this place, you have to roll up your sleeves and start to serve your neighbors.”

Just over a year ago, Jim Floyd and his wife were about to go to dinner when he decided to take some medicine for what he thought was a migraine. But when his wife asked him a question a few minutes later, the words that came out of Jim’s mouth were nonsensical. As someone who used to teach courses on emergency care for strokes, Jim knew exactly what was happening to him. He was experiencing a Transient Ischemic Attack (TIA), sometimes referred to as a mini-stroke, and he was suffering from expressive aphasia, his speech rendered largely incoherent.