Hope. My story, our story.

The 1980’s and early 1990’s was a tumultuous time in Peru. Two revolutionary groups wreaked havoc in the Andean region and the capital city in an attempt to overthrow the government. Bridges, power plants, tunnels and buildings were constant targets of terrorist events. Thousands of innocent people died as a result of an escalating war. Curfews and blackouts became common, and schools and universities were often closed under threats. In this climate, there was little hope for young people to get an education, and young men feared turning eighteen because of the mandatory conscription laws in effect. As a twelve year old boy, my future at home looked bleak.

A relative of mine had migrated to the United States in the late 80’s and in 199 I joined him, leaving behind family and friends. Upon arriving, my father’s words reverberated in my heart, “you leave as the hope for our family. Do not let anything get in the way of your education.”

I never thought that it would be 15 years before I would ever see my family again. Their absence in my life created an abysmal hole in my heart. The emptiness and loneliness experienced were slowly overcome by the consolations that God sent my way through the Church and friends that surrounded me. It was the love and support of this faith community that lifted me through some of the most difficult moments in my life; showing me that with God nothing is wasted.

Recently Pope Francis explained that to migrate is an “expression of that inherent desire for the happiness proper to every human being”. Over the centuries that same desire has brought millions of immigrants to our shore and our faith communities play a crucial role in welcoming them. Now is not the time to abandon this responsibility.

#diversity #immigration