There are few things that rank with gratitude on the part of our children. This is a fellow who appreciates:
Landing in Kingston, Jamaica, without a penny, it took the generosity of a stranger who approached her at the airport—a Good Samaritan and a Cuban whom she had never met before—to give her enough cab fare to get her and her two young children to the YMCA for shelter. The next morning, she called her anxious husband in Miami who awaited news of their escape. Days later, this young woman with the jet-black hair and the crystalline green eyes was on a plane to Miami to reunite with her husband and to reunite a family that had been apart for more than a year.
When I think of what this woman did, of how she mustered the courage to embark on her own with two small children and leave all she knew behind so that they could grow up in freedom, I cannot help but to feel awe.
It is a tragedy that anyone has to emigrate under such circumstances, and she was not alone. Another reminder of the audacity of communists, who tried to replace the theological virtue of hope with a misguided trust in political promises in so many places around the world.
Waiting for the graces that accompanied John Paul II to that island to burst forth.