A Sanctuary of Love

by Anton Flores-Maisonet

I recently visited the offices of a nonprofit organization to explore ways we could collaborate to support asylum seekers. Little did I know that this visit would lead me to meet a young mother and her adorable 9-month-old baby boy. “Glenda” and “Daniel,” with nowhere else to go, were at risk of becoming part of the invisible fabric of homelessness in America.

Baby Daniel was a bundle of joy, radiating warmth that knew no bounds. His sweet smile captured the hearts of everyone who met him. He would explore his world, crawling like a curious cub on his tiny palms and the soles of his feet. Despite her petite frame and youthful appearance, Glenda carried the weight of responsibility that comes with being a parent. It was a silent but powerful narrative of motherhood, resilience, and the innate human capacity to love.

In that brief encounter in the nonprofit’s lobby, I invited the young family to return to our place of hospitality at the Quaker meetinghouse. Whether it was fate, impulsivity, or simply an awareness and openness to the Spirit’s movement and call to a love that crosses borders, this was a holy invitation – a foretaste of Advent.

At the Quaker meetinghouse, they found not only a roof over their heads but also the opportunity to discern their options without the fear of being left vulnerable on the streets. While we regretfully couldn’t offer them a room at our house for long-term residents due to being at full capacity, the reception they received from other migrants who currently call it home showcased the multiplying effect of love.

Kaitlyn, our newest resident ally at the house, extended a helping hand. She had many ways she could have spent her day off, but she chose to show mercy and hospitality to our unexpected guests. Kaitlyn first took Glenda to her country’s consulate to explore the options available to her and her son. Then, she went the extra mile and treated our guests-turned-friends to lunch and an even more special treat—a visit to the Georgia Aquarium.

For Glenda, who had spent nearly a year confined in her previous home in Atlanta, this newfound freedom meant the world. It was a day of relief, joy, and a reminder that even strangers can show genuine care for others.

As night fell, I sat with Glenda as she faced a momentous decision. There were no easy options. Glenda longed for home, but “home” meant returning to a country in Central America filled with uncertainties, elevated political protests, disrupted roads, and shortages of food and fuel. Glenda made the call that she felt was best for her and baby Daniel—to return to the welcoming arms of her mother. So, we bought her a one-way ticket and made plans to accompany her early the following day to the airport.

Casa Alterna cannot right the many social injustices that lead people to our doorstep, but what we can be is a sanctuary, a beacon of hope amidst the storms of life. We stand as a testament to radical hospitality and an alternative to the dehumanizing systems of this fallen world.

These holy invitations, like the unexpected encounter with Glenda and Daniel, are invitations to solidarity and the pursuit of hope. In a world often dominated by stories of adversity and suffering, Glenda and Daniel remind us that there is always some small act of love that we can offer. We can always make room for kindness and caring.