Each year, people come to Kino for a moment. What happens next is a lifetime. From students to volunteers, advocates to attorneys, these encounters don’t end at the border. They shape vocations rooted in solidarity.
What Next?
Each May, campuses across the United States fill with celebration. Caps are thrown, photos are taken, and graduates step into a new chapter marked by both possibility and uncertainty. Beneath the excitement is a quieter question, one that lingers long after the ceremonies end: what comes next? For many, the answer is shaped not only in classrooms, but through encounters that stay with them long after they leave. Moments that interrupt, reframe, and invite something deeper. Moments that begin to clarify not just what someone will do, but who they are becoming.
For some, that moment happens at the Kino Border Initiative.
At Kino, students and volunteers step into a reality that resists easy explanations. What begins as a short-term experience of an immersion trip, a season of service, or a few weeks at the border often becomes something more. It becomes a point of reference, a place they return to, again and again, as they discern their path forward. Kino is not just a place people visit. It is a place that forms and sends.
For Elijah, that formation unfolded slowly, in the quiet, steady rhythm of accompaniment. After several months volunteering in Kino’s clinic, he found himself not only responding to migrants’ health needs but walking alongside people in moments of uncertainty, fear, and hope. In the midst of his own season of discernment, something began to shift.
What had once felt like an open-ended question of “what should I do next?” became clearer. He realized he wanted to center his vocation on accompanying Spanish-speaking communities. He committed to strengthening his Spanish and continuing his path in healthcare, focusing on serving Spanish-speaking patients with a deeper awareness of their dignity and experiences. Looking back, Elijah now recognizes his time at Kino as a turning point. It was a place that not only welcomed him but also helped illuminate the path ahead.
That kind of clarity does not always arrive all at once. More often, it takes shape through relationships, reflection, and the steady realization that the questions we carry are not meant to be answered alone.
“My experience at Kino has helped me understand the importance of pairing on-the-ground exposure to an issue with advocating for systemic change more broadly,” shared one KBI volunteer, Hannah. “Interacting with migrants one-on-one and also amplifying their experiences to policymakers is incredibly grounding, and motivates my future career in policy advocacy!”
As it did for Elijah and Hannah, what begins as an experience becomes something more enduring. For many who pass through Kino, that foundation continues to shape what comes next.
Encounter That Shifts Perspective
Most volunteers and visitors arrive at Kino with a general sense of why they are there. They want to learn more about immigration, or they want to serve. They want to better understand an issue that often feels distant, which they have only encountered before through headlines, policy debates, or secondhand conversations. That framework rarely lasts long.
A core part of Kino’s work is creating spaces of encounter that move beyond abstraction. Through immersion experiences, visitors spend time serving meals, listening to stories, and walking alongside migrants in Nogales. The goal is not simply to inform, but to invite something deeper.
“Our focus is to humanize the situation,” says Sister Tracey Horan, who recently concluded nearly seven years of ministry at Kino, serving as the Associate Director of Education and Advocacy. “We’re not talking about numbers or some general vague issues; we’re talking about people, the struggles they’re facing, and the hopes they have for a life where they can thrive.”
Very quickly, the lens begins to shift. What once felt like an issue becomes something far more immediate and personal. The people visitors meet are not categories or case studies. They are parents, siblings, and neighbors. They are individuals navigating complex decisions shaped by love, safety, and survival.
“A lot of groups will comment to me that they are surprised that people really didn’t want to leave their homes and that, for the most part, this is their last option,” Horan told U.S. Catholic. “Many people are fleeing danger or can’t put food on the table. For most of the people we talk to, their migration is an expression of love—love for a family member or love for their kids who are living in fear and who want to be able to go outside and play and go to school.”
For some, this realization is unexpected. Assumptions begin to fall away, replaced by a more complex understanding of migration, one that holds both the realities of policy and the dignity of the people most affected by it. For others, the experience deepens something already present. A prior interest, a personal connection, or a quiet sense of calling becomes more defined through direct encounter. In both cases, the question begins to change.
It moves from: What should be done about this issue? to something more personal, more demanding: What is my relationship to this reality? And in that shift, another realization begins to take root. The people visitors come to serve are not only recipients of care. They are also teachers.
“Our goal is to create a space of encounter where [immersion participants and migrants] can get to know each other as humans,” Horan says. “It’s incredible to see those exchanges and how the people in migration become teachers. The way people affirm each other and start to make connections between their stories is really transformational.” This mutuality challenges one-sided notions of service. Visitors begin to recognize that they are being formed as well, shaped by the resilience, faith, and humanity of the people they meet.
For Rich, that transformation began in a moment that almost didn’t happen. At first, he approached Kino with hesitation. He supported his wife’s involvement, but remained unsure about the work itself. That distance shifted when he finally visited and struck up a conversation with a deported man, an ordinary exchange sparked by a shared love of the Dodgers.
What began as small talk quickly deepened. As they spoke, Rich recognized unexpected parallels between their lives. Both were fathers of two young sons. Both had made difficult decisions shaped by a desire to provide for their families. In that moment, the labels fell away.
“Rich no longer saw an ‘immigrant’ or a ‘case,” reflected his wife, Debbie. “He saw a father — a neighbor.” What changed for Rich did not come through a lecture or a policy decision. It came through relationship between two fathers. “In that shared space of fatherhood… something shifted.”
She shares that “as a city of Phoenix police officer, it did not erase his respect for the law, but it expanded his heart.” From that point on, his understanding of migration was no longer rooted in abstraction. It was grounded in encounter, in the recognition of shared humanity and inherent dignity.
These moments do not always announce themselves as turning points. Often, they are quiet. A conversation. A shared meal. A story that lingers. But over time, they reshape how people see the world, and their place within it. What they carry with them is not just new information, but something far more enduring: relationships that continue to inform how they think, act, and discern what comes next.
Vocation in Action
What happens at Kino does not remain at Kino alone. For many, the impact becomes clearer over time. What begins as a powerful experience gradually takes shape in concrete decisions about careers, communities, and the kind of lives people want to build. Participants do not simply return home. They carry forward what they encountered, often in ways they could not have anticipated at the time.
For some, that path leads to advocacy and policy. After encountering migrants at the border, many alumni step into roles where they can influence the systems that shape those experiences. They bring with them not only knowledge, but relationships that continue to ground their work.
“My time at KBI allowed me to meet people who experience the effects of changes in immigration law on a daily basis and share their stories,” Alexandra reflects. “I get the privilege of using my voice when theirs has been restricted. I still tell their stories to try humanize a very inhumane system.” Now practicing immigration law, her work reflects a commitment formed through encounter. It is not only about navigating legal systems, but about ensuring those systems recognize the dignity of the people within them.
“My approach to this work has been shaped by servant leadership, grounded in my Jesuit education, which teaches us to be ‘men and women with and for others.’ The ‘for others’ is important. This calls us to see the inherent dignity in every person, to meet people where they are, and to remind us that leadership is about service. It’s about accompanying others in their struggles. It’s about working towards a solution that lifts everyone up.”
Others carry their experience into storytelling and advocacy in different ways. For Alanna, a visit to Kino during high school became something she continues to return to, years later. “Ever since leaving KBI, there has not been a day that has passed that I do not reflect or think about my time there. The impact that trip left on me changed me into who I am today.”
Now studying public relations and journalism, she has found ways to amplify what she encountered: through writing, presentations, and ongoing advocacy for immigration reform. “As I am nearing graduation in the next 4 semesters, I am starting to think about what I want in my career. The answer came easily, and I just want to help people. KBI was the first organization that came to mind, and I knew that I needed to try and be a part of it in some way or another.”
Even brief encounters can leave a lasting mark. Majo, originally from Colombia, came to Kino as a volunteer, supporting different areas, especially the Psychosocial team. Through her close accompaniment of migrants, her experience began to shape not only her interests but also the way she sees the world. What started as a temporary service became a deeper conviction. After her time at Kino, Majo chose to continue growing in the humanitarian field and is now pursuing a master’s degree in Human Rights in Puebla, Mexico. Her story reflects a shared truth: Kino shapes not only what people do, but how they choose to see and respond to the world.
For others, the path leads into direct service. The practice of accompaniment, so central to Kino’s work, does not end when participants leave Nogales. It continues in hospitals, community organizations, and social service settings, where former volunteers carry forward a commitment to meet people where they are and walk alongside them over time.
And for some, the experience opens deeper questions, ones that extend beyond career into vocation in the fullest sense. During his year of service at Kino, Joe worked across multiple programs, accompanying migrants and supporting visiting education groups. In that time, what began as service gradually became discernment. The questions he encountered were not only about what he would do next, but about who he was called to be. At the end of his time at Kino, Joe took a decisive step and entered ministry, carrying with him the experiences and relationships that had shaped his path.
Not every story follows a direct line. For many, the impact of Kino shows up in less visible ways, but no less significant. It shapes how people engage in their communities, how they understand issues of migration, and how they choose to act in moments that call for compassion and courage. Across all of these paths, a common thread emerges. Kino does not simply shape what people do. It shapes how they see. And that shift in perspective, in values, and in understanding, continues to unfold long after they leave the border.
A Ripple Effect
The impact of Kino does not end with individual decisions. It multiplies. As participants return to their schools, workplaces, and communities, they carry with them new ways of seeing. Their experiences begin to influence conversations, challenge assumptions, and open space for deeper understanding. In this way, the impact of Kino extends far beyond the border itself.
For Jack, that ripple effect began shortly after his visit. “I was very fortunate to visit KBI on an immersion trip in 2022 while in high school in New York City. After returning from the border, I remained involved with our Kino Teens club through graduation in 2023, and the experience KBI offered me—witnessing firsthand the reality of migration—has continued to shape my thinking and commitments.” What he encountered at Kino did not remain a memory. It became a lens through which he began to engage more deeply with the world around him.
In his senior year of high school, and in the months before beginning his studies at Harvard, Jack sought out opportunities to continue that engagement. He interned with organizations in New York City supporting newly arrived migrants, many of whom had made the same journey he had learned about at the border. The connection was clear. What he had witnessed in Nogales was not isolated. It was part of a broader reality that extended into his own community.
Mercy’s story reflects that same ripple in a different way. After volunteering with Kino in the summer of 2023, Mercy carried that experience into her graduate studies and beyond. She went on to earn her Master’s in Social Work from Loyola University Chicago, focusing her work on child-centered immigration advocacy, interdisciplinary collaboration, and culturally responsive care for migrant communities.
But what stands out is not only where her path has led. It is how she continues to return to the questions first encountered at Kino. “I’d love to reconnect and talk more about vocation and your journey, especially as I reflect on my own next steps,” she shared. For Mercy, Kino was not just a place of service. It remained a point of reference, a place she returned to as she continued discerning how to live out her vocation.
Be Part of the Sending
Stories like Jack’s and Mercy’s reflect a broader pattern. Alumni of Kino’s programs often return home not only changed, but engaged. They bring conversations about migration into classrooms, parishes, and professional spaces. They advocate for more just policies, challenge harmful narratives, and create opportunities for others to encounter the issue in more human ways.
Sometimes, that impact is visible through careers, advocacy, or public leadership. Other times, it unfolds more quietly. In conversations with family members. In choices about where to volunteer. In the willingness to ask different questions, or to listen more closely. In all of these ways, the ripple continues. This is not accidental.
Kino’s work is intentionally rooted in this kind of formation that does not end at the border, but prepares people to engage thoughtfully and compassionately wherever they are. Through encounter, reflection, and accompaniment, participants are invited not only to learn but to carry that learning forward.
Because the goal is not simply to change minds. It is to form people who will help shape communities. As those communities begin to shift toward greater understanding, solidarity, and a deeper recognition of human dignity, the impact of each encounter continues to grow.
What begins as a moment becomes a movement, and none of it happens in isolation. It includes the students who come to learn, the volunteers who show up to serve, and advocates who carry these stories into new spaces. It also wouldn’t be possible without the supporters who give, who pray, and who make this work possible. There are even those who choose to listen, to learn, and to remain open to where they might yet belong in this space.
Together, this community becomes part of what sends people into the world carrying a deeper commitment to dignity, relationship, and solidarity. We are part of what forms, and we are part of what sends. What begins as a moment does not stay a moment. It becomes a way of seeing and a way of walking with others. It is a way of continuing the work of encounter, wherever we are.
And in that way, the question of what comes next is no longer someone else’s to answer. It belongs to all of us.
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