I began my journey with Catholic Charities of Louisville in October 1990 and completed my journey on Aug. 31, when I retired. It was a trek of almost 35 years.
I began working in Migration and Refugee Services when the department was resettling Vietnamese and Amerasian refugees from the Vietnam War. One of the first families that I remember meeting was a Vietnamese family.
The father was older and blind. He had served alongside the U.S. military and therefore had spent several years in a North Vietnamese re-education camp. He was accompanied by his wife and four adult children.
I thought about how difficult it must have been to give up his life in Vietnam and how much easier it would have been to stay in his home country, given his age and disability, where he knew the culture and language. But he was so happy, because he knew his children would have a better life in America.
Less than five years after they arrived, the family was able to purchase a small home in south Louisville. The story of this Vietnamese family that began with loss and sacrifice, but driven by hope and then realized through hard work, is a similar story told by refugees throughout my tenure of the last 35 years.
Those of us who work in resettlement have stories — filled with humor — about misunderstandings brought about by language and cultural differences. When I was much younger, a colleague and I thought a couple of Bosnian men wanted our phone numbers, and we refused, thinking they were trying to ask us out on a date. They kept pointing at a piece of paper and saying “phone number” over and over again.
Once they brought over a Bosnian-speaking case manager who could translate, they let us know they actually wanted help getting a phone line installed in their apartment. We all had a laugh about that.
There have been other instances of tragedy and sorrow throughout my career. In the mid 1990’s there was a refugee family whose mom and six children arrived in Louisville alone. The husband and father had remained overseas while his family went before him to the United States.
He had remained behind because, while being held captive as a political prisoner, he was injected with the AIDS virus by his captors as punishment. It was a race against time to get him to the United States knowing he was in poor health.
He finally arrived about a year after his family, but only lived for about a week. But he made it to Louisville to see his family one last time. He had been a pastor, and the letters that he wrote while in prison were read during the funeral service. His letters were full of love, hope and gratitude while praising God despite his circumstances and with the realization of his impending death.
As I close out this journey and begin another one, I am incredibly grateful to have spent that time in support of the refugee community in Kentucky. The refugee community continues to exemplify the best of us through hard work and hope that their children will have a better life.
I am also grateful to have spent that time surrounded by incredible staff and colleagues, state and local resettlement partners and federal agency staff that have supported me throughout my journey.
The refugee program is currently experiencing powerful headwinds, but if the last 35 years have told me anything, it is that the program will endure if we all work together, matching the perseverance and hope exemplified by the refugee community.
Becky Jordan retired as the state refugee coordinator for the Kentucky Office for Refugees, a department of Catholic Charities of Louisville that coordinates refugee resettlement services across the state.
