Still, one might say, the ways of God are not the ways of man. We are both painfully aware of the senses in which there is no way, “Ni modo.” He remains unable to see many of his friends from the Chicago area. Although it was very difficult for him to leave many of the friendships he has made here in the United States, we both know that it is best for him to be with his family in Mexico. I still recall one of their family members telling me less than a month after meeting them all that I was family to them.Ī year and a half later, Andrés has prosthetic legs with which he is learning to walk with the support of crutches. I found in their friendship hospitality of such generosity and openness as I had never really known. They gave generously in food and friendship and were always willing to host me at their place. Still, the friendship was anything but one-sided. In one sense, I was able to give something to Andrés and his family that they weren’t able to provide for themselves, especially transportation and knowledge of English. For one, the immediate circumstances of our friendship were need-based, although it very quickly grew deeper than this. It began as a very different friendship than any I had known before. We began teaching each other, bit by bit, to speak each others’ native language. I had been looking for opportunities to get to know some of the people in the neighborhood and agreed to meet Andrés and take him to his basketball practice. I still remember the night I received a call from one of my friends telling me of a Hispanic man in his neighborhood who I might consider taking to his wheelchair basketball games or prosthetic appointments. In time he began attending the Hispanic church services and came to know the reality of Christ’s redemptive power. Some began to visit Andrés and help him to get to the different appointments he needed for his legs. Andrés lived in a neighborhood where several Christians had begun a Hispanic church plant to reach out to the immigrants in their community. “Ni modo,” one might say.īut God makes a way where others find none. Few would have found any hope in such a situation. Shortly after his arrival, a horrific accident ended in the amputation of both of his legs at the thigh. Like many others, Andrés had come to the United States in 2008 looking for work to support his family back home in Mexico. In our friendship we feel the tension between the deep reality of a friendship forged across cultural boundaries and the borders that temporarily impose physical distance between us. The friendship I have enjoyed with Andrés has left me with an acute awareness of the disjunction between the personal realities of friendship and family and the legislation that often works against such realities. “Ni modo:” roughly, “No way.” It was a phrase often repeated between us. “Ni modo, Jason,” I remember him telling me just minutes before their truck pulled away from our parking lot one last time. Around my neck hangs a rosary of wooden beads given to me by my friend Andrés the night of his departure for Mexico last November.