MISSIONER NEWSLETTER – 2025

Rick Dixon, U.S.-Mexico Border

Rick Dixon, third from the left, pictured with his beloved niece, Kirsty, second from the left.

“Both in life and death we belong to God,” a good friend wrote to me not too long ago. Never has this hit home more than now, in this time of transition for me. Because of security concerns, I am leaving my ministry in Mexicali, Mexico to return to El Salvador, where I served with Maryknoll Lay Missioners from 2012 to 2021. In this transition, I’ve been accompanied by my niece, Kirsty Angel Mountain. Her spirit has arched over me like a giant olive tree, shading me with a stronger belief, and grief; yet these, too, belong to God.

Kirsty passed away suddenly after a long struggle with mental illness. She was 32 years old. My sister shared this of Kirsty’s challenges: “Over the past few years Kirsty faced a severe mental health condition that claimed her life last night, June 29th. Her doctors believed she was battling a form of schizophrenia or schizoaffective disorder. This illness caused her to spend years in fear, grappling with hallucinations and delusions that had become her reality. I know the world called what she did suicide, and I get that, yet I know she did not plan to kill herself, for even in her anxiety and fear she continued to seek God for help through scripture, prayer, and accompanying others who suffered fear and depression. She is now free from the pain and she reminds us that we are all broken and struggling with something. May we be kind to one another and find the courage to tell our stories as we walk each other home.”   

In this spirit, I’d like to share a story of how this last year has connected me closely to Kirsty, and even though the distance between Mexicali and Orange County separated us, we walked together.

One evening last year around 10 p.m., upon returning home from a church event in Mexicali, I found my door unlocked and the alarm system deactivated. I’m often absent-minded about locking doors and setting the alarm, so I forgot about it. And then it happened again some three months later. I scolded myself and took precautions to put the alarm panel up, thus covering the screen, to remind me I had set the alarm and locked the door. On March 26 of this year when arriving home late, I again found the door unlocked and the alarm deactivated. Once inside the house, I checked the alarm panel. It was raised over the screen. After searching through the house to make sure no one was hiding and that nothing had been taken, as I always did, I sat down to scold my pup, Shorty, reminding him he’s a watchdog. The problem is anyone who gives him a treat is his friend for life. His big brown eyes looked apologetically through long floppy ears.

At sunrise the next morning, Shorty and I took a walk to a nearby park. Just as we entered the park, a white sedan stopped at the entrance. “Strange,” I thought. Normally no one is out at this hour. Windows tinted, the car followed us around the park and as we exited the park, it followed us for a few blocks along the street. Message clear: You’re being followed. “Got it, Shorty?” Not even a yelp. My nerves raised on end.

Kirsty Angel Mountain, 32, passed away on June 29.

At this time Kirsty was living out of her car, which no one in our family was aware of. She suffered from delusions of being followed by people who wanted to do her harm. Living from her vehicle gave her freedom to constantly change locations and hide.

After March 26, I went through my days, driving between migrant centers and the Oasis del Nino center (where I worked) with my eyes more in the rearview mirror than on the road. A car would make the same turn behind me one too many times. Is it following me? Who are these people? What are they planning? Am I paranoid? After one such incident, I decided to take a few days to disperse camp at a beautiful spot in the Colorado desert. Kirsty was constantly on my mind and in my prayers. I wished she could have been there with me, with an overflowing moon, the stars, and a silence that embraces one in the arms of God.

Since July 1, I’ve been home with my sister in Orange County. We’ve spent a lot of time reading through Kirsty’s journals and sharing stories. Her illness was tragic and yet it propelled her into an intense spiritual search. The following is a synthesis from one of Kirsty’s journals: I’ve been called to dive into the darkest pits of pain and anguish in my soul. I am afraid, but you tell me, God, not to be afraid because you have gone before me. Yes, we’ll dive into the darkness together for you are my “creator and the need to create flows through my veins.” (Kirsty loved the natural world and was a big fan of John Muir). I have come to know and understand something of your love, yet I realize what I know is so little, yet so very real.  Please, give me the strength to water that mustard seed through your compassion and mercy, where you are making a way in the wilderness of my heart and in the desert of humanity, which are often wastelands; yet that is where you want me to be, to share your love with the oppressed and poor, and thus know myself and you more intimately.

Kirsty taught me “together” is not only about proximity but also has to do with sharing our solitude and stillness, or as she wrote: stillness is trust, and trust in God is true rest.

This search with Kirsty has animated and reaffirmed my vocation; foremost, that my true homeland is the heart of the poor and abandoned and that the space between earth and heaven is a very thin veil, for “in life and death we belong to God,” and to one another.

Now, Kirsty, we journey together to El Salvador. Your life, struggles, and compassion give me the courage to dive deeper into the heart of humanity, for your name has become a sacred place as we walk together toward the place of God.

GRACIAS

I will always love you.

Rick

Please consider supporting my mission work at the U.S.-Mexico border with a donation through the link below.

I invite you to walk with me as a “COMPANION IN MISSION.” Companions in Mission are friends and generous donors who give financial gifts on a regular (usually monthly) basis. For more information, visit Become a Companion in Mission. Thank you so much for your generosity!