This is the third part of a three-part series on immigration and refugee changes under the new federal administration.

Following a slew of executive orders and directives from the Trump Administration, along with a Supreme Court ruling, many DACA recipients worry about what the future holds.

Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) is a U.S. immigration policy that offers temporary relief from deportation and work authorization to undocumented individuals brought to the United States as children. 

Introduced in 2012, DACA allows recipients to remain in the country and pursue education and employment.

Since then, many DACA recipients, also known as DREAMers, have lived in the U.S. with many of the same opportunities as U.S. citizens. According to U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services, there were 4,040 active DACA recipients in Arkansas, as of March 31, 2023. Across the United States, more than 500,000 people are in the DACA program.

Since the beginning of DACA, the Church has consistently supported recipients, emphasizing their dignity and the importance of providing a path to citizenship. In 2020, the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops praised the Supreme Court’s decision to reinstate DACA.

Jennifer Verkamp-Ruthven, director of Catholic Immigration Services and the Refugee Resettlement Office, has been busy since inauguration day Jan. 20, responding to the growing needs of the immigrant and refugee communities. She hopes DACA isn’t added to that growing list of concerns.

“As of right now, nothing with DACA has changed, while many other topics within immigration have changed for the worse,” she said. “I hope this does not happen to DACA. Fortunately, those with DACA are not at risk of deportation so that is one thing that is unique. … I do have concerns about the upcoming case at the Supreme Court on this topic. If DACA is taken away and nothing better replaces it, then it will be a tragedy for many people and their families.” 

Matthew Phillips, an immigration specialist with Catholic Immigration Services, said changes to DACA will not come from the White House.

“Rather than the White House, DACA recipients ought to keep their eyes on the courts,” he said. “In 2022, the Hanen decision ruled that DACA was illegal and stayed all new applications. Since then, no new cases have been adjudicated, but anyone who already has DACA may file to renew. In January of 2025, an appeals court ruled that the injunction was too broad and limited it to Texas while maintaining the stay across the nation. Litigation is likely to continue throughout this year, and the future of DACA depends entirely upon what is decided. For now, though, nothing has actually changed; DACA recipients may continue to live, work and renew their statuses without fear of deportation.”

On Jan. 17, the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals ruled that DACA is illegal but allowed renewals for current recipients to continue. For now, DACA recipients can still renew their protections, but no new applicants are being processed, and DACA’s future remains uncertain. 

If the Supreme Court rules against DACA in the future, more than 500,000 recipients could lose their ability to work legally and face deportation.

Meet Jenny

One of the Catholic DACA recipients is Jenny Calvario, 31, who has been the administrative assistant of St. Augustine Church in Dardanelle and St. Andrew Church in Danville since 2018. She said she moved to the U.S. with her family when she was 4 four years old in 1997.

“Originally my dad was the first one to come to the U.S., and then it was a little hard for him to be away from his family. Just wanting to give us a better life, he decided that my mom and I should come,” she said. “I don’t think I realized that we didn’t have documents until when I was getting ready to go to college. I realized that I couldn’t apply for scholarships, that my resources were very limited. My counselor was very kind enough to say in the most kind way that it was going to be difficult for me to apply for scholarships due to my immigration status.”

Calvario said that with her parents’ hard work over the years and saving up, she was able to enroll at a community college in Morrilton. Achieving her degree was not easy for Calvario, and the challenge helped her faith bloom.

“It took a very long time just to get an associate’s degree. It took me about four years, so about the time that it takes to get a bachelor’s degree,” she said. “During my college time, my first year of college, I started to live out my faith fully. I think if it weren’t for my faith, if I didn’t have someone that I believe in who’s bigger than me, I wouldn’t be here. It has been a very difficult journey.”

Calvario said every two years, DACA recipients have to pay around $600 to renew their work permits. 

“It’s something very uncertain … and it’s a financial struggle. And there’s always the uncertainty of, will it be renewed?”

Another one of Calvario’s fears is her family being separated.

“I come from a big family. I have four siblings. And just being separated and just (fearing) that … ICE is coming to knock on your door … the feat that you’re going to get home and you wonder if your family will be there. Just the fact that you are not free to drive around because you don’t know if you’ll make it home. That’s my biggest concern — the separation of family. And I have smaller siblings. … If we get separated, what happens? Will we be treated well, with kindness?”

Calvario said there is much misinformation about why and how families immigrate. She said her parents came from a very poor neighborhood in one of the smallest towns in the state of Guerrero in Mexico. 

When she was as young as 5 or 6 years old, Calvario’s mother would go from door to door to work for money or food to help her single father — Calvario’s grandfather — since her mother — Calvario’s grandmother — died shortly after giving birth to her. When her mother met her father, Calvario’s parents moved to Mexico City to make a better living, but crime was rampant. Calvario’s parents made the decision to immigrate to the United States to provide a better life for their children.

The trip was a difficult one for her family — Calvario is too young to remember anything, and her parents don’t speak much about the journey or life in Mexico. Calvario took a trip to the border wall with Catholic Extension in 2022.

“I was so close to the wall at the border, and it broke my heart into a million pieces. Because I looked at that border, and I realized that my parents had to leave their parents, their country, their language to give me a better life, without thinking that they would probably see their parents ever again or return to their home country. 

“I am so grateful, and it breaks my heart at the same time because they gave up everything for me — for their family. And it’s not easy for them. Even though they don’t say much, I can see it in their eyes how it’s been hard for them to leave everything behind to give us a better opportunity to be able to have a good education and to live in a better condition than they were living in.”

Calvario said her faith has kept her grounded.

“I think a lot of times, I’m so scared of speaking out and saying I’m a DACA recipient because of the way people are going to look at me. A lot of times, I just look at Jesus and the Blessed Sacrament. I go to adoration, and I say, ‘My immigration status does not define me, Lord, but your love defines me.’ And that has helped me so much and to walk these uncertain times, but with a lot of faith and hope that things will get better and that God will make it better as well.”

Calvario said she often worries about this life — but her family encourages her to take hope from the promise of the next life. 

“My dad gives us words of hope. That’s what a father does. He doesn’t want to give us more anxiety. He doesn’t want us to carry burdens. They have hope and they’re like, ‘We just have to look at Christ and hold onto his hand and hope that there is something better — that he has something better for us.’ … Maybe there’s no better here. If nothing good ever happens here, we do have hope that there is something better in the next life, which is with Christ. … My parents have given me the faith to continue hoping for something good.”

Meet ‘Sebastian’

“Sebastian” is a 26-year-old DACA recipient who attends Our Lady of Sorrows Church in Springdale. He is referred to by this alias for safety in order to share his story.

Sebastian, who had been Protestant alongside his family for most of his life, was confirmed and received into the Catholic Church in December.

He said he immigrated with his mother, aunt, siblings and cousins when he was almost 2 years old. His family immigrated due to the poverty in their neighborhood in Mexico City.

“My dad convinced my mom to move to the states with us, because I think he already was here in the United States for like a year or so, so my dad kind of brought us over here just to start a new life.”

Sebastian said that while he doesn’t remember the journey, his mother said it was a frightening one.

“When I was crossing the border … I think we were crossing the desert with a coyote … and my mom always shares that that was a very scary journey for her because she was in a room full of men and she had to be like the protector of all these different children from any situation that could happen. Luckily, nothing happened, but that was a scary experience for her.”

As Sebastian’s family went to different Protestant churches throughout his youth, looking for somewhere to fit in religiously, Sebastian realized he didn’t seem to fit in culturally either. 

“It’s not that I’ve never been bullied or maybe discriminated against for being an immigrant. It’s just more I felt like I was lost between two worlds. I always felt like I never fit in with my American friends, and then with my Mexican friends, I always felt like I didn’t fit in with them as well. I tried my best to make the best of being stuck in two worlds. … I didn’t know where I belonged, and it was confusing.”

It was when Sebastian began to look at options for college that he realized just how big of an impact his family’s status had on his life. It wasn’t until 2019 that the Arkansas legislature passed HB 1684, which allowed DACA recipients and certain immigrants living in Arkansas to attend public higher education facilities at the same cost as in-state students. Prior to this law being passed, Sebastian was attending a community college and working full-time. After HB 1684 passed, he transferred to the University of Arkansas and continued working while completing his degree.

After graduating, Sebastian’s girlfriend at the time was interested in becoming Pentecostal. Ever the supportive partner, Sebastian joined her. But he began to realize that there were some things he believed differently. 

“Her pastor started giving us Bible study at the church … in one message he gave us at one of the Bible studies, he said Peter was given the key to Jesus’ Church … so then I started doing more research on Church history. If Jesus established his Church through his apostles and disciples, what does that Church look like?”

Sebastian spent the next year researching Catholicism while still supporting his girlfriend’s faith journey. 

“And the more I started looking into it, I was like, ‘Wow. If I was to remain Christian, I don’t know if staying Protestant would be enough for me.”

Not long after Sebastian and his girlfriend ended their relationship, he joined the Catholic Church, which he feels is more accepting of immigrants and individuals in his position.

“It made me feel bad around 2016, because I know there were a lot of evangelical Christians that were not understanding of our story as far as undocumented immigrants. It made me kind of feel like maybe what we did was wrong and like maybe what my parents did was wrong and maybe we don’t deserve to be here. … When I converted (to Catholicism), I started to feel more empathy and compassion for people in my community. The Catholic Church has a good stance on immigration. … They are like champions treating people fairly and like they’re humans, even if they are immigrants.”

Sebastian’s advice for immigrants like himself is simple.

“Spend time with your family. Enjoy the time you have with them. At the end of the day, everything is in God’s hands.”

Meet Kevin

Kevin Azanza, 26, is a policy strategist for the American Civil Liberties Union of Arkansas and a DACA recipient. When he is home in northwest Arkansas, he attends St. Vincent de Paul Church in Rogers, and when he is working in Little Rock, he attends St. Edward Church.

Like Calvario and Sebastian, Azanza’s parents made the journey in search of a better life.

“My mom and dad met in Mexico and ended up having me. When my mom ended up getting pregnant with my sister … they had decided that … although they loved Mexico, they wanted more opportunities for their children, and we ended up coming over,” he said. 

He was only 1 year old when his parents made the journey in 1999.

Azanza is concerned because previous politics have dealt with words around immigration. Now he is seeing more action, and that has many communities afraid.

“We are concerned about immigration, but we’re also concerned about the economic aspect,” he said. “I go to these Latino-owned businesses, barber shops, supermarkets, community centers where they used to be packed on the weekends, and you’d see a thriving community. Now you just see no one — it’s a bare oasis. 

“So seeing the economic aspect also hurts. And it’s something that’s been mentioned a lot in the Latino community lately — that people are scared because they are … not contributing to the economy, they’re not going out and living their lives like they should be, or like they have been on a regular basis. So I think immigration and the economy are two of the big ones, but not to overlook the fact that people are really just nervous about the impacts that this can have on their family and the community.”

Azanza is also scared for many children who will be swept up in abrupt changes that they neither can control nor likely understand.

“I’m lucky that I have DACA, and I’m lucky that my parents are currently residents and that my extended family, for the most part, has documentation. However, I do have friends and other family that are not documented. So some of the things that really scare me are … I’m really scared for the kids. Especially the kids like me, us growing up. I experienced what it is to be undocumented. And so growing up, seeing these kids grow up right now where this fear and anxiety is amplified is what makes me worry for them. I don’t think we’ve seen yet the repercussions that such effects can have later on in the kids’ lives.”

Like Sebastian, Azanza said many DACA recipients occupy a gray area.

“I knew growing up that I was … different, for lack of a better word. But I didn’t know exactly how that impacted my life until I tried to apply for college. That’s when I noticed that I am not necessarily undocumented, but I’m not necessarily documented. It was like feeling like a minority within a minority. I was lucky enough to have the benefits of having a driver’s license, a work permit, protection from deportation. 

“But at the same time, I was not granted the same privileges of being documented, which is being able to apply for some scholarships, some grants, some loans, some federal aid, work-study programs. And so it really was just being a minority within a minority. I think that was amplified even more as a first-generation student. … I was super lucky and really grateful that I had people that invested in me and that helped me get into college. And I know that wasn’t necessarily the case for everyone who was in my situation.”

Like Calvario and Sebastian, Azanza’s faith has helped him greatly. He, too, has put his worries in God’s hands.

“I can only do what I can do, and the rest, I’ve got to leave it up to God,” he said. “And even as my head starts thinking about all the things that can happen to my family, my friends, my community, I always think, well, God’s plan is bigger and it’s all in his hands at every time. So it will be OK in the end, and if it’s not OK, it’s because it’s not the end.”

Second part of a three-part series on immigration and refugee changes under the new federal administration.

When the Trump administration announced Jan. 21 that it would reverse a longstanding policy preventing Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents from making arrests at sensitive locations, such as schools and churches, the response of the Diocese of Little Rock was immediate. 

“You may feel like there is nothing you can do to change politicians’ minds. But the place to begin is with ourselves, our own hearts and our own parishes and our own discomfort in dealing with another culture and immigrant group. And to not forget about the human dignity and the human rights of the other person,” Bishop Anthony B. Taylor wrote in a diocesan statement Jan. 23. 

“I want to appeal to your hearts — to the reality that we are all brothers and sisters — including the one-third of Arkansas Catholics who worship in Spanish in 43 of our parishes. And right now, this Spanish-speaking part of our body of Christ is hurting and living in fear. If you’re living in fear today, I want you to know we stand in solidarity and in prayer with you. And if you’re not familiar with the parts of our one body of Christ who are living in fear, I implore you to pray for them and try to find ways to get to know them. Find ways to help your fellow believers feel welcomed.”

Deacon Matt Glover, chancellor for canonical affairs, sent parochial schools and parishes steps to take in the event of an interaction with or visit from ICE. 

Kristy Dunn, principal of St. Theresa School in southwest Little Rock, oversees daily school operations for more than 200 students — a majority of whom are Latino. 

“I am hearing some fear and uncertainty within the community,” she said. “As a Catholic, I feel called to journey alongside my people, no matter their status in our country. Our mission remains the same.” 

Father Ramsés Mendieta, a native of Nicaragua and pastor of St. Barbara Church in De Queen, has similar concerns, as his parish is predominantly Hispanic.

“We should be very grateful for our bishop, who, since the beginning of his ministry in the diocese, has been a strong and pastoral voice for immigrants,” he said. “They are parishioners, ministry coordinators, lectors, extraordinary ministers of holy Communion, catechists, active adorers of the Blessed Sacrament, humble and hard-working people and must not be treated as second-class Catholics. 

“It is in these times we are reminded that our Church is a house of mercy for the less fortunate, and they do have a place and shepherds who care for them. This is not about politics, but about living our Christian values ​​with love and compassion — compassion not measured by social, economic or political interests.”

One of those parishioners at St. Barbara Church is Roberto Martinez. The 75-year-old serves on the Diocesan Pastoral Council. He moved to Arkansas from Chicago with his family in 1979 and began to build up Hispanic ministry in the state upon discovering there weren’t many Catholic opportunities for him in Sevier County. 

In October, he was named to the Arkansas Latino Hall of Fame and is a respected leader in his faith and civic communities. As a leader, he has heard concerns and fears from his community.

“People in our communities here are scared to go to work. They’re afraid to send their kids to school. They’re scared to be stopped and deported and leave their kids behind. They don’t know what to do. It is a big concern,” he said. 

Martinez said he is also concerned about the economic ramifications of deportations on communities that heavily rely on the Latino population to work in agriculture and livestock. 

“No doubt, we all agree that there are some criminals that need to be punished and need to be deported here in these communities,” he said. “But deporting the farm workers, the construction workers, I think that hurts the economy in southwest Arkansas and also northwest Arkansas. The poultry industry really depends on the Latino workforce. A lot of construction work around here is done by Latinos. Farmers and independent Latino workers are good workers — peaceful, they don’t get in trouble. They ought to be let work. I wish they would come to an agreement for people who have been living here for 10 years without getting in trouble in any way, and maybe find a way to legalize it.”

Martinez said many of the immigrants have established lives here, and for their children, America is all they know. 

“We just hope that (ICE) doesn’t come and separate families,” he said. “A lot of them have already bought homes, and they have cars. If they are deported, those are going to be left here. Some of their kids’ main language is English. If they are sent to Mexico or Central America or wherever they are from, they are going to have to learn that language from the beginning. They will be foreigners over there. They were born here. It’s a very difficult situation for undocumented families.”

Sister Mickey Espinoza, MCP, director of the Hispanic Ministry Office, said she hopes to help bridge the gap between immigrants and services provided by Catholic Charities of Arkansas. 

“My hope for refugees and immigrant families is to work with Catholic Charities to get some information out to the communities as soon as possible,” she said. “The fact that they know our Church is looking out for them is important just as the bishop’s letter and his commitment. There are families who are living in fear — in some churches, the attendance has dropped. There are so many things being put up on (social) media, that we must help them distinguish what is true, where to find the correct resources and how to be prepared.”

Dennis Lee, director of Catholic Charities of Arkansas, said, “We are working with Sister Mikey and her office to provide ‘Know Your Rights’ information for people at risk of being approached by ICE agents. People need to be prepared in the event they are stopped or detained, and parents need to have a plan for the care of their children in an emergency.  

“We cannot dispel the fear that many of our immigrant brothers and sisters are living under, but we can pray for them, get to know them and offer our support by taking to heart the message of Jesus in Matthew 25 that Bishop Taylor has directed us to — ‘I was a stranger, and you welcomed me …. As often as you did this for one of my least brothers and sisters, you did it for me.’”

Matthew Phillips, an immigration specialist with Catholic Immigration Services, said people are “simply terrified.”

“This is intentional, as most of the changes to immigration policy have been purely security theater,” he said. “The most effective means by which immigration was impeded throughout the years 2017 to 2020 was not by the creation of a wall nor increased deportations, but by the fact that fewer people were willing to try. 

“Our office saw a tremendous decline in applications for citizenship and residency from those years because people believed that any misstep would lead to deportation proceedings. The same thing is happening now. The scattershot executive orders, the publication of numbers of immigrants arrested and the hostile rhetoric are an elaborate performance to instill fear.”

Phillips said Catholic Immigration Services is working to educate immigrants.

“Recently, we have started scheduling presentations at parishes and schools to update people on what has changed and how people can protect themselves,” he said. “In these presentations, we go over an immigrant’s rights when talking with the police or immigration agents, discuss the difference between valid and invalid warrants and give advice on how to avoid doing anything that might jeopardize oneself.”

Catherine Phillips, director of the Respect Life Office, said caring for immigrants and refugees, regardless of their situation, is a pro-life issue.

“Immigration policy and enforcement are matters of human dignity. First and foremost, we should see all people — immigrants, refugees, citizens — as human beings, created in the image and likeness of God, with inherent dignity. This makes the current immigration situation in our country a respect life issue,” she said.

Catherine Phillips, director of the Respect Life Office, offered five pieces of advice for caring for refugees and immigrants as brothers and sisters in Christ:

• Pray: “Pray that our government leaders will find better solutions to help people in need, which includes protecting citizens but also extending compassion and charity to migrants fleeing violence, persecution and seeking a better life.”
• Be in solidarity: “This can simply mean caring about the difficult situations that others face. We can listen and we can care, even if we can’t change or fix the situation.”
• Keep in mind the impact of trauma on people’s daily lives: “For example, think about how a child, who is a U.S. citizen — let’s imagine born right here in Arkansas — might not be able to concentrate on her schoolwork because she worries that her father, who lives in our country without documentation, might be deported. Reactions to fear, anxiety and grief differ from person to person; our response can consistently be love.”
• Speak respectfully, listen and learn from people who think differently: “Immigration in the U.S. is a complex issue; we can be faithful Catholics and have widely differing opinions about immigration and citizenship processes. But we aren’t acting as faithful Catholics if we don’t love one another and help the most vulnerable among us.”
• Uphold the dignity of every person: “Let’s be careful how we talk about people. Let’s see human faces, not just statistics. Let’s look for the face of Christ in every person we encounter.”

First part of a three-part series on changes immigration and refugee changes under the new federal administration.

As a flurry of executive orders from the Trump Administration indicates that work with refugees will stop and deportations will begin, staff at Catholic Charities of Arkansas are discerning what the future holds for their clients and how they will need to adjust their work to serve others.

Jennifer Verkamp-Ruthven, director of Catholic Immigration Services and the Refugee Resettlement Office, has found herself adapting nearly every day as new orders and directives are issued. 

“It’s completely impacting our work with the Refugee Resettlement Program because our clients are assigned to us — they essentially go through the U.S. State Department to the USCCB (United States Conference of Catholic Bishops) since we’re an affiliate of them. … We’ve had people who have their travel booked that were supposed to come at the end of this month and next month. And their travel is completely canceled,” she said. “There’s nothing that will change that, at least for 90 days … It’s sad too because we’ve got clients that are already here that are waiting for their relatives to come. … We’ve got people that were already living in limbo abroad. I’ve heard of cases where someone had their case pending for over 25 years. They had children born in refugee camps. They were about to travel, and now they’re not, and they don’t have any inclination of when they will.”

From 2015 to 2019, the Refugee Resettlement Office received no new clients, but rebounded in 2021-2022 with the resettlement of 104 Afghan refugees in central Arkansas. In 2024 the Little Rock office accepted another 75 refugees, mostly from Honduras, Guatemala, Venezuela, Afghanistan and Nicaragua, and were gearing up for another 80 people this year.

Sudden changes

Malleson Emmerling, housing and benefits coordinator for the Refugee Resettlement Office, said things changed immediately Jan. 22, Inauguration Day. 

“We have a database that’s connected to the USCCB migration database, and literally on the day of the inauguration, our database changed. The clients who we were told were going to arrive were deleted off our database,” she said. “We had somebody scheduled with a flight for the 22nd of January, and the minute the inauguration started, their flight was canceled.” 

A stop work order sent by the U.S. State Department at 5 p.m. Friday, Jan. 24, had Catholic Charities of Arkansas and many organizations scrambling. The end-of-the-day memo ordered nonprofits working with the State Department’s Refugee Resettlement Reception and Placement Program to stop work as of the following Monday. The memo went out nationwide. 

“I received notice Saturday evening about the stop work order from the USCCB … about the suspension of funds. We had a meeting on Monday afternoon (Jan. 27), where USCCB leadership had virtual meetings with executive directors of Catholic Charities to learn more,” Verkamp-Ruthven said. 

Verkamp-Ruthven and the Catholic Charities staff are figuring out how to resettle clients who arrived just days and weeks before the inauguration. 

“We actually have 13 clients here. One case had just arrived on the 16th of January, and the longest anybody else had been here was a month,” she said. “The USCCB … said that we could go ahead and continue services … We aren’t going to abandon our clients.”

It wasn’t just refugees who were affected. Some immigrants are in the United States legally through Temporary Protected Status, or TPS, which is a temporary immigration status provided to nationals of certain countries.

Matthew Phillips, an immigration specialist with Catholic Immigration Services, said he has already seen major changes.

“Many doors have been closed to obtain a status. Restrictions have been placed on both asylum and parole while the refugee admission program has been halted in its entirety,” he said. “Temporary Protected Status (TPS) for Venezuela was recently terminated, meaning that everyone who held that status will lose it in a few months. Several other countries with TPS designations have upcoming expiration dates, such as Nicaragua and Honduras, both of which expire in July of this year. It is very unlikely that they will be extended. People with those statuses have resided in the United States since 1999, and they will most likely lose their authorization to live and legally work in the U.S. this summer.”

Phillips has also seen an increase in detentions.

“Several executive orders authorize and prioritize enforcement of immigration policies to the fullest extent of the law. Although we have not seen any raids in Little Rock as of yet, these orders have led to an increase in cooperation between different agencies, especially between the police and ICE,” he said. “We have seen people referred to ICE after being pulled over for speeding, and people with prior convictions are being placed in immigration proceedings as well.”

A scramble for information

Many refugees have reached out to Catholic Charities staff to try and make sense of the changes. 

“They are concerned and want to know what to do,” Verkamp-Ruthven said. “We’ve tried to reassure them that they do have a legal status here. They’re not at risk like someone who is undocumented. We’ve tried to provide comfort, but we’re also teaching them about their rights that they have should they encounter law enforcement, how to explain their situation, how to respect law enforcement, all of that. But they’re concerned, and we’re just trying to provide comfort.”

Other refugees are confused and angry. 

“They don’t realize that we’re just a mediator to get them resettled in our state. … Sometimes, you’re the only face they know. There are so many areas of gray in this that need some kind of reform. But is it the right thing to do, to just shut the whole system down? Because that’s what’s happening,” Emmerling said. “… I have personally received text messages from my clients who arrived here a year ago asking me if they were going to be deported. The fear has been heightened. I mean, my own daughters (who are of Hispanic descent) asked me if they were going to be deported, and I legally adopted them when they were born.”

Phillips said that despite popular belief, there is no waiting line for legally entering the country. 

“Without an immediate family member who is a U.S. citizen, it is very hard to obtain legal permanent residency in the United States,” he said. “Even with a family member, it may take up to 30 years to immigrate legally in some cases. Also, spouses of U.S. citizens cannot obtain a status without first entering the U.S. with an inspection at the border, meaning first leaving the country, sometimes for a statutory period of up to 10 years before they can apply for a waiver of inadmissibility.”

Emmerling said there is a plethora of misinformation, which easily evolves into fearmongering. 

“Think before you publish things on social media. Do you really know the truth about something? Or are you just passing along messages that you’ve heard on the Nextdoor app or Facebook?” she said. 

Now, Catholic Charities of Arkansas is waiting for the Trump Administration to complete its review of the Refugee Resettlement Program in the U.S. For the time being, there are still many unanswered questions. 

“We had just ramped up because we were granted affiliate status last January,” Emmerling said. “We have just spent the last six or seven months ramping up with getting people trained on how to do everything that you have to do. And so for us personally in Arkansas, it’s kind of like, ‘Oh my gosh, now what?’ Our clients are anxious and worried because they don’t know what’s going to happen in their lives.”

Similar fears sprang up during President Trump’s first term in 2017 to 2021. 

“We have people who are here from when we had the huge influx of Afghans, and then people since then. We do have some funding to even help people who have made it through that initial 90-day period of resettlement. We will turn our focus to them and serving our new arrivals. … We want to at least take the time to focus on them because they still have a lot going on, and we want to help them become as successful as possible,” Verkamp-Ruthven said. 

Verkamp-Ruthven is concerned about the immigrant populations that CCA serves as well. 

“We are concerned about discrimination and racism increasing even more for them, even though they’ve already experienced some of that here, unfortunately,” Verkamp-Ruthven said. “Also for our immigrant population, making sure that people know what their rights are, what to do if they were approached, if they were arrested. 

“The undocumented are those that we’re extremely concerned about, especially those that have lived here for years and they’re paying taxes, or they made a choice to enter without inspection. But as we know, there’s often not an option under the present U.S. immigration system, and there are extreme situations for why people would make the choice to do that, to take care of their family, avoid persecution, things like that. We’re worried for them, and we’re just trying to help them be prepared,” she said. 

Faith and politics

Verkamp-Ruthven said there’s also an additional challenge of balancing political ideologies and faith.

“We have to put our faith before our politics and think about what it is that Jesus teaches us, what it is that the Church teaches us. Unfortunately, when we look at the political world, it can be uncomfortable because there’s not a side that is fully in line with what the Church teaches. And that’s hard,” she said. “But if everyone from the Catholic faith could be more grounded in what it is that the Church teaches and stand for that, I think there would be less division. 

“To me, it’s just so clear from what Jesus taught, what the Church says, what our bishops are saying, what our clergy are saying about our undocumented brothers and sisters. It is our obligation to care for others … And if we could respond more in love and understanding, I don’t think we’d be in this situation.”

Dennis Lee, executive director of Catholic Charities of Arkansas, said Bishop Taylor’s Jan. 23 message on immigration explains the approach the diocese’s Refugee Resettlement Program is taking with its work and outlook. 

“We see our work with refugees as an opportunity to be Christ for others. Having the funding we receive from the federal government suddenly cut off presents challenges, but we will not let it keep us from being what Bishop Taylor asks of us, which is to allow God ‘to use us not only to be a light to our nation (enlightening others about human rights, about truth, and about life), but also more importantly, a source of love, love that banishes fear, love that brings hope and healing,’” he said.  

He added, “Catholic Charities of Arkansas is blessed to have the support of Bishop Taylor and the people who make up the Church in our diocese. Over the next few months, we hope the stay on new refugee arrivals will be lifted, but in the meantime, we have plenty of work to do with the refugees that have already been entrusted to our care.”

“Christ himself was a refugee, as seen in Matthew 2:13 …” Hollenbeck said. “I am grateful that our office will continue to work to ‘welcome the stranger.’”  

How you can help

Those who wish to donate can mail checks to CCA, 2415 N. Tyler St., Little Rock, AR 72207, or visit dolr.org/catholic-charities/ways-to-donate. 

Immigrant or refugee

Changes in how immigration law is applied in the United States have increased the confusion about different migrants living here.

• Temporary Protected Status: A program that allows people from certain countries hit by conflict, civil disorder or natural disaster to live and work in the United States legally short-term.
• Refugee: A person who flees their native country and legally resettles in the United States or another country because of a well-founded fear based on that person’s race, religion, nationality, membership in a particular social group or political opinion. 

Claire Hollenbeck, resource coordinator for the Refugee Resettlement Office, said there’s often a lot of misinformation surrounding refugees.

“When I first began working in Refugee Resettlement, something I noticed right away was confusion around some of the terminology,” she said. “A person who enters the United States as a refugee is vetted and approved for the program by the federal government while outside of the United States. They are granted the legal status of refugee and have a (rather lengthy) pathway to citizenship.”

• Undocumented immigrant: A person living in the United States without authorizationN Legal permanent resident: Also known as “green card holder,” he or she has the right to live in the United States indefinitely. Most can eventually seek citizenship and become U.S. citizens.