Julia Hennessy was pursuing a career in Boston’s hospitality industry when she decided to pack up and make the 40-hour drive from Boston to the U.S.-Mexico border.
She spent the next four months — from August to December of 2024 — using her experience in hospitality to welcome and serve migrants at the St. Francis Xavier Migrant Shelter, a transitional shelter run by priests of the Augustinians of the Assumption in El Paso, Texas.
A native of Louisville and a Catholic school graduate, Hennessy said she had been active in Catholic ministry in Boston, but had felt called to give of herself in a bigger way.
With no background in migration services or “strong political opinions” about the border, she said the ministry “just fell into my hands” when a friend’s father suggested the opportunity.
“Everything just worked out. It was a test in trusting the Lord,” she said in a recent interview.
At the migrant center, within sight of the U.S.-Mexico border, Hennessy worked with the Augustinians and a few others to provide transitional support to migrant families, who were sent on buses from government-run holding facilities on the U.S. side of the border.
The shelter only received families who were documented and following the legal process, she said. Most were from Central America and South America, not Mexico, and almost all were aiming to escape cartel violence, she added.
The facility allowed individuals to receive support for up to three days, she said. In those three days, “we would help them get to where they were going,” she said. “A lot of them don’t even know where they are — we would show them where they are on a map.”
Providing logistical support, she would help transport the migrants to buy tickets for their final destination or request money wires at credit unions. “Usually, all of their money was stolen on the trip,” she said.
The shelter provided fresh clothing, food and toiletry kits to the migrants, she said. And she assisted with the “daily operational tasks at the shelter,” such as cleaning cots and cooking, she said.
Some of the migrant families had been traveling to the U.S. for more than a year, she noted. When they arrived at the shelter, she said “you could physically see them relax,” as they knew they were safe, she said.
The families would often share their stories with her, she said, noting that many shared their experiences of being kidnapped or raped during their journey to the U.S.
“I spoke with one father who witnessed his wife’s murder while his children were present,” she said. “They couldn’t pay the cartel, so they (the cartel) came in and shot the mom,” the father told her.
To escape the violence, the family sought asylum in the U.S., said Hennessy.
The children’s trauma was visible, she said.
“Kids had marks on their mouths from duct tape” which was applied by their kidnappers, she said, noting that among the children whose mouths were marked by duct tape were those who saw their mother die.
Several babies exhibited physical signs of trauma after being deprived of proper nutrition and a lack of stability, she said.
Conversation surrounding migration often becomes politically divided, Hennessy noted. But face-to-face with migrant families, Hennessy said politics didn’t enter into it.
“When you look at all of these mothers trying to save their families, I felt like I was loving people as Jesus would. It really separated it from any political opinions,” she said.
Hennessy said the experience showed her “the magnitude” of how she could serve Christ with her gifts and skill set. Working at the shelter “showed me the amount of good I can do — how significant my gifts are — and how important it is to serve.”
Now settling down in Louisville and working in the hospitality industry, Hennessy said she sees her career with fresh eyes.
Hospitality can become a ministry when it’s done for Christ, she said.
“It’s so different when it’s for Christ,” she added. “In hospitality, it’s so easy to separate yourself (from the other person), but you can always serve people as Christ.”
