54 years ago today, my
parents, brother and I left the turmoil and persecution of my native Cuba – and
entered the United States as refugees through Miami.
I was 17 months old.
Like the refugee families I
met in Jordan and that I wrote about here – and like the Holy Family’s escape
to Egypt with baby Jesus -- my family left Cuba with only the clothes we were
wearing.
My parents left behind all
material possessions, everything familiar and known, to seek a place where we could practice our faith in freedom, a new home where we could
live without fear.
Would I have the courage
and trust in God’s Providence to do what my parents did?
Our family was sponsored
and taken care of by a Catholic parish in Dallas. But after a few months living
in Texas, we eventually moved to Puerto Rico to join the rest of our extended
family who had resettled there.
It blows my mind to ponder
how many people helped us at every step of the way, how many generous hands and
hearts were willing to reach out and love us. And how different my life would
be if even one of these moments had been different.
On this National MigrationWeek, please join me in praying for the millions of refugees currently living
in limbo – hoping and praying for someone to reach out and open a door for
them.
Open my heart, Lord,
show me how I can reach out to my brothers and sisters in need.
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