(RNS) — By dinnertime the evening before her U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement check-in appointment, Blanca Martinez knew she probably wasn’t going to sleep much that night.

“It gives me a lot of anxiety,” Martinez said of ICE check-ins during an RNS interview in Spanish, on Monday (Sept. 15). She had experienced a restless night before her Aug. 15 check-in, when she was told to come back a month later, an unusually small window of reprieve.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow,” said the Salem, Massachusetts, resident, alluding to the possibility of detention at the appointment.

But despite Martinez’s high stress levels, she knew she wouldn’t be alone at the appointment Tuesday. About 500 people came to support her outside the immigration office in Burlington, including Massachusetts state Rep. Manny Cruz, Salem Mayor Dominick Pangallo and Bishop Julia Whitworth of the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts, who skipped the end of a national bishops gathering to support Martinez.

“This is something that we as a diocese take really seriously — that when one in our congregation is under threat, we are all under threat, and that we have the capacity to stand up for one another,” Whitworth said. 

Across the country, many faith groups have had longtime practices of accompanying immigrants to ICE check-ins. As the Trump administration’s mass deportation campaign has ramped up and immigrants increasingly fear detention at the routine appointments, many such groups have doubled down on that strategy, believing they can at the very least provide spiritual support and, in some cases, influence decisions to allow immigrants a stay of removal.

Over a decade ago, Martinez arrived at the United States border fleeing from Honduras for her safety, she said. At the time, a Salem attorney noticed as Martinez — a survivor of childhood polio who used crutches to make her way north — was turned away at the border that day and intervened to help make her case for asylum, said the Rev. Nathan Ives, rector of St. Peter’s-San Pedro Episcopal Church in Salem.

After arriving in Salem, Martinez co-founded a cleaning cooperative, began teaching Spanish and became a leader within the Essex County Community Organization. She also became a beloved member of St. Peter’s-San Pedro. 

But her immigration case has not gone as well, Ives said. She’s faced denials on appeal in her asylum case, though so far, she’s been granted stays preventing her deportation.

“ It’s just been this long journey of love and caring both emanating from her, and to her from the community,” said Ives, calling Martinez “ just the kind of person you’d want becoming a U.S. citizen, if you ask me.”

Martinez, who was raised in an orphanage, called Ives her “guardian angel,” saying he was her principal support after she had surgery three years ago. The whole parish community provided food and care.

Last month, they showed up again as part of about 300 supporters who accompanied her to the ICE check-in, including clergy “ from everywhere I could imagine — from my diocese, from other dioceses, from other denominations,” Ives said.

On Tuesday, that number swelled to about 500, according to organizers, which included the National Domestic Workers Alliance, Matahari Women Workers Center, LUCE Immigrant Justice Network, Neighbor 2 Neighbor, Essex County Community Organization, Unitarian Universalist Mass Action, Episcopal City Mission and the Welcome Immigrant Network. 

Whitworth prayed over Martinez before she entered her appointment: “Envelop your daughter, Blanca, all who will enter this building today, and all who are in need. Envelop them in your steadfast protection, and fill them with your courage and joy.”

Martinez told RNS that Whitworth’s accompaniment “gives me a lot of strength and a lot of hope.”

Whitworth also prayed for all people fearing deportation, and for the country: “We pray, God, for our nation, that it may be restored to its best ideals, that we shy away from violence of all kinds — state-sponsored, politically motivated, hate-filled.”

The bishop told RNS she was encouraging other religious leaders to stand against Christian nationalism, saying, “As a religious leader, I don’t serve political powers, the principalities of this age. I serve Jesus of Nazareth, who came as a stranger, was oppressed by a state system and taught us and told us to welcome the stranger and to stand with all who suffer.”

She also said she knew that “when people who our country might be seeking to disappear are made visible as having a wide network of support,” there is more attention to how they are treated.

For example, in August, the Episcopal Diocese of New York successfully rallied around the daughter of a diocesan priest, Yeonsoo Go, who was detained at her July 31 immigration court appointment, and then eventually released.

But not every faith-based mass mobilization for an immigrant in danger of deportation works out. In Iowa, faith-based organization Escucha Mi Voz sometimes brings up to 150 supporters to stand outside the Cedar Rapids ICE office every Tuesday during immigrant appointments. They have seen both successes and defeats.

When the Rev. Guillermo Treviño Jr., an Iowa Catholic priest, heard his 20-year-old parishioner Pascual Pedro had been detained at a Wednesday immigration appointment he attended by himself on July 1, Treviño immediately went to the county jail for a prayer vigil. The church community made 1,500 calls to the ICE director, Treviño told reporters at a Sept. 11 Georgetown University event. Within a week, Pedro was deported to Guatemala.

But in Burlington, Martinez was able to return to the hundreds waiting outside to tell them it would be a year before she had another appointment: She was granted a one-year stay from removal.

She noted that most immigrants face court appointments without a crowd praying for them outside.

“I want to raise my voice for each of the people who are living with the same situation that I am facing — who don’t have a voice because they don’t have a lawyer or someone to represent them,” Martinez said. 

Supporting others and her prayer help sustain Martinez. Even as she waited with anxiety the night before, she said there was something to give thanks for every day.

“From the moment I wake up, I give thanks — for my life, for being able to walk, for being able to get up, for food, for having a roof, for having the whole community that supports me,” she said.