Most Sundays I bend at the altar and hold the chalice of wine steady as small hands take the host and dip it into the wine before placing it onto their tongues. Every time I serve a child at the communion altar—next to their parents or grandparents—my heart feels it. The love for someone facing hardship. The fact is, people I love are being harmed; children I love are afraid. I don’t know how much young immigrant kids internalize the... Read more