Twenty-five years ago, a local newspaper ran a story about a retired couple who traveled to the Cook Islands with Global Volunteers, combining tourism with service to the local community. It was the first time I had heard of Global Volunteers, and the idea stayed with me, though at the time I wasn’t in a position to volunteer.
Fast forward to 2023. Newly retired, I remembered Global Volunteers. When I read the mission statement—“wage peace and promote justice”—I knew I had found what I was seeking. With so many conflicts raging, I wanted to do something constructive.
The service program on the Texas border with Mexico immediately spoke to me. As a career bilingual educator, I was deeply troubled by rhetoric that vilified immigrants. In my own valley, Hispanic immigrants contribute enormously to economic stability, family life, and community. I wanted first-hand experience of what was happening at the southern border.
That week in Texas exceeded all my hopes. Our team worked together to renovate a home for a family in need, packed hundreds of food boxes, and served a Thanksgiving meal at St. Vincent de Paul.
My most meaningful experience was at the Catholic Charities respite center, founded by Sister Norma Pimentel. The center provides a brief place of rest for immigrants arriving by bus after border screening, before they continue on to sponsors or family. Hearing their stories reminded me how vital it is to keep hope alive.
One Haitian family had fled violence by first traveling to Chile, then journeying north for eight months—often carrying their three-year-old twins. A Venezuelan sixth grader shared how her family escaped through Colombia and crossed the Darién Gap, only to have her nineteen-year-old brother denied entry at the border. She told me she dreams of becoming an astronaut.
I don’t know where these families are now. That uncertainty is a burden volunteers often carry—but it cannot stop us from caring. I keep them all in my heart.
Fast forward to 2023. Newly retired, I remembered Global Volunteers. When I read the mission statement—“wage peace and promote justice”—I knew I had found what I was seeking. With so many conflicts raging, I wanted to do something constructive.
The service program on the Texas border with Mexico immediately spoke to me. As a career bilingual educator, I was deeply troubled by rhetoric that vilified immigrants. In my own valley, Hispanic immigrants contribute enormously to economic stability, family life, and community. I wanted first-hand experience of what was happening at the southern border.
That week in Texas exceeded all my hopes. Our team worked together to renovate a home for a family in need, packed hundreds of food boxes, and served a Thanksgiving meal at St. Vincent de Paul.
My most meaningful experience was at the Catholic Charities respite center, founded by Sister Norma Pimentel. The center provides a brief place of rest for immigrants arriving by bus after border screening, before they continue on to sponsors or family. Hearing their stories reminded me how vital it is to keep hope alive.
One Haitian family had fled violence by first traveling to Chile, then journeying north for eight months—often carrying their three-year-old twins. A Venezuelan sixth grader shared how her family escaped through Colombia and crossed the Darién Gap, only to have her nineteen-year-old brother denied entry at the border. She told me she dreams of becoming an astronaut.
I don’t know where these families are now. That uncertainty is a burden volunteers often carry—but it cannot stop us from caring. I keep them all in my heart.