Credit: Angel Valdez
Check-in at Casa Juan Diego
These days, I often find myself answering the same question: “How is Casa Juan Diego?” It’s a good
question, one that deserves more than a simple answer. I could list the many difficult and frightening things
happening right now: policies and practices that force individuals and entire communities into unnecessary
suffering. The systematic closing of legal pathways, whether for asylum, work permits, or other forms of
relief, makes it nearly impossible for newly arrived migrants to survive openly in our society, free from
fear, or to participate in the legitimate economy.
Though I do not always say it out loud, things are bad for immigrants. As bad as I’ve seen them in my 14 years at Casa Juan Diego. There have always been struggles, but also victories, moments of progress and glimpses of stability for individuals and families. Now, more often, we find ourselves in survival mode. We do what we can to buffer the anxiety people feel under the constant threat of arrest and deportation. The air is thick with tension, heavy with unspoken grief.
This era of immigration is different. Today, it is no longer the act of migration itself that most often
separates families, but the actions of immigration enforcement agencies. Increasingly, families migrate
together, seeking to avoid long-term or even permanent separation. Deportation, and the constant fear of it,
has become the primary threat to family survival, not only for newly arrived immigrant families, but also for
those who have lived in our city and state for decades. Even those with a clean record for many years are now
considered targets for arrest.
The Catholic Worker Model: Moving to the Margins
And yet, we continue. Our work has not stopped. After a brief dip in our food distribution, we are once again serving more than a thousand families each week. Our health clinics are busier than ever, with a growing team of volunteer doctors and medical specialists. Our houses remain open for hospitality. Pregnant women are receiving care. Children are nurtured and comforted. Families separated by deportation or displacement are being reunited. The isolated, sick, and dying are receiving passage home, and people are being accompanied to immigration courts and check-ins. Where harm has been done, we do all we can to make it right.
Amid all this hardship, I am reminded of a deeper truth at the heart of the Catholic Worker Movement. As immigrants are pushed further to the margins of society, into places where support and protection are
scarce, as Catholic Workers, we go with them. That is our calling. To be in the harsh and dreadful places together. To refuse to let anyone face fear and vulnerability alone. This is the essence of Personalism, a core principle of the Catholic Worker Movement: to take personal initiative to feed the hungry, to clothe and shelter those in need, to walk alongside the frightened and persecuted. We practice this personalism, inspired by Dorothy Day, Servant of God and co-founder of the Movement, even when the effort seems futile. In solidarity with those on the margins, we may lack rationality. But hope? Hope is always alive. This is the heart and soul of Casa Juan Diego. Flawed as we may be, if you’re looking for us, you’ll know where to find us.
Changes at Casa
Around Casa, there have been some marked changes this past year. Although we are just as grateful for them, we see more “anonymous” donations from those too afraid to attach their names. We hear from
volunteers who are legal permanent residents that they are anxious about putting their citizenship process at risk by showing up to serve. Most noticeable, outside our houses you’ll see something new: security.
At first, it was shocking to see our beautiful mosaic of the Virgin of Guadalupe enclosed in a protective cage. But I have come to see it differently. It has become a symbol of determination, of solidarity, of our commitment to protect this community. It sends a message to all who pass by that something sacred is found here. Something of great value and worth.
Now, every time I put my key in the new security gate, I say a prayer to our Virgin of Guadalupe. I pray for protection, for forgiveness for all those who have made this necessary, and for strength to endure
whatever may come.
Houston Catholic Worker, Vol. XLV, No. 4, October-December 2025.
