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Yahoo
01-07-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Ukrainian mom made ultimate sacrifice for Canadian life - leaving husband behind: ‘Even here, far from the bombs, we feel the war every day'
Yahoo News Canada presents 'My Canada," a series spotlighting Canadians — born-and-raised to brand new — sharing their views on the Canadian dream, national identity, and the triumphs and tribulations that come with life inside and outside these borders. Erin Horrocks-Pope is an award-winning journalist who works as a project manager of strategic development at the Mennonite New Life Centre (MNLCT) in Toronto. She helps new Canadians connect to the community through various initiatives and opportunities. A selection of the organization's participants have agreed to share their Canadian lens in as-told-to accounts for Yahoo News readers. I never really thought about Canada until war broke out in my country. I never really thought about anywhere beyond our city. We had a happy, stable life in Kharkiv, Ukraine. I lived there with my husband, daughter, mother, and mother-in-law. We had everything we needed: work, family, routine, peace. Then, overnight, everything changed. Being close to the border, Kharkiv was occupied by Russian forces on the very first day of the war. The sounds of bombs and sirens replaced the quiet hum of our neighbourhood. We had no time to process, only to act. We packed our car with the five of us, our pets, and our important belongings and drove to a designated safe zone. My husband, an IT engineer, was not eligible to leave the country due to martial law, and my mother-in-law chose to stay behind in a safer part of Ukraine where she had family. So, a difficult decision we never thought we would ever have to make was made. I left with our daughter and my mother, carrying only the essentials and the unbearable weight of uncertainty. We first went to Paris, where a friend helped us find temporary shelter. But very quickly, we realized that language would be a barrier. I had some basic English, and my daughter's English was strong, but neither of us spoke French. Every small task became a challenge. Then, we heard that Canada was offering a special program for Ukrainians. The Canada-Ukraine authorization for emergency travel (CUAET) program offered three years of support, including the right to work, study, and live in safety. Before we arrived, we studied everything we could. Canada seemed like a country built on fairness and care. A country that values the environment, social support, and technology. But life in Canada also would also come with cultural differences. In Ukraine, we are raised in a collective spirit, community comes first. In Canada, people are encouraged to build their lives independently. It's not wrong, it's just different and would take some time to adjust. One of the hardest things was starting over. From Paris, we searched for housing in Toronto, Ont. but most listings said no pets were allowed. We had already made the difficult decision to leave our parrot behind due to airline restrictions, and we couldn't bear to leave our cat, either. After many setbacks, we finally found a condo in North York that accepted pets. Our cat, in a way, helped us choose our new home. The stress was overwhelming. And we carried grief with us, too. My daughter's best friend, Arseniy, was lost to the war. They had grown up together. He was like family. That kind of loss… it changes something in you forever. Even here, far from the bombs, we feel the war every day. We found our footing slowly. Language classes were our first step. The Mennonite New Life Centre (MNLC) in North York became our lifeline. The staff weren't just teachers, they were mentors, therapists, and friends. My mother, Kateryna, who was 66 when we arrived, had never studied English before. The first classes were online, and she hated them. It was hard to convince her to try again. But then she met Teacher Lama at MNLC. Somehow, with patience and kindness, she created a space where my mother felt safe to learn. In just two and a half years, my mom went from zero English to being able to shop, visit a doctor, and use the bank on her own. For me, as her daughter, that's one of the proudest moments of all. Another major support during our transition was the Canadian education system. Especially St. Jerome Catholic School, who welcomed my daughter with warmth, encouragement, and the structure she needed to adjust emotionally and academically. It was one of the key foundations that helped us rebuild a sense of normalcy. Once I regained my footing, I wanted to give back. I began writing simple guides for other newcomers on how to find work, register for school, and access support and shared them through the Agapas Centre, led by Olga Ivanova. Later, I joined a skilled trades program at JVS, thanks to the encouragement of Eman Ismail-Elmasri, an inspiring professional who helps newcomers thrive. That experience gave me purpose again and connected me to a greater mission. Thanks to my teachers at MNLC, Teresa, Nadya, and Ivan, I was introduced to York University's Bridging Program. I studied business, adapted my previous education to the Canadian market, and graduated with an official York University Business Certificate. That ceremony was just a few weeks ago. I cried the entire day. Because for me, it wasn't just a certificate, it was proof that we had made it this far. That journey also led me to Monica Anne Brennan, Associate Director of the Internationally Educated Professionals program at York. Her leadership, like Eman's, has already helped thousands of newcomers find their footing. I feel incredibly fortunate to have crossed paths with people who give so much of themselves to help others succeed. What makes Canada unique, in my eyes, is one word: willingness. So many people, teachers, social workers, and neighbours genuinely try to help. It's not always perfect, but you can feel the effort. You can feel the care. There are still things I'm not ready to talk about. The situation in Kharkiv has become worse again. The shelling, the destruction… it's relentless. My daughter and I follow the news every day, grieving in silence, trying to stay strong. I never imagined I would have to start over anywhere, let alone on the other side of the world. I never imagined I would rebuild my life with my daughter and my mother by my side. But we did. And we are still standing together, healing, learning, and hoping. And that is what Canada has given us: not just safety but the chance to move forward with dignity, purpose, and hope.
Yahoo
01-07-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Ukrainian mom made ultimate sacrifice for Canadian life - leaving husband behind: ‘Even here, far from the bombs, we feel the war every day'
Yahoo News Canada presents 'My Canada," a series spotlighting Canadians — born-and-raised to brand new — sharing their views on the Canadian dream, national identity, and the triumphs and tribulations that come with life inside and outside these borders. Erin Horrocks-Pope is an award-winning journalist who works as a project manager of strategic development at the Mennonite New Life Centre (MNLCT) in Toronto. She helps new Canadians connect to the community through various initiatives and opportunities. A selection of the organization's participants have agreed to share their Canadian lens in as-told-to accounts for Yahoo News readers. I never really thought about Canada until war broke out in my country. I never really thought about anywhere beyond our city. We had a happy, stable life in Kharkiv, Ukraine. I lived there with my husband, daughter, mother, and mother-in-law. We had everything we needed: work, family, routine, peace. Then, overnight, everything changed. Being close to the border, Kharkiv was occupied by Russian forces on the very first day of the war. The sounds of bombs and sirens replaced the quiet hum of our neighbourhood. We had no time to process, only to act. We packed our car with the five of us, our pets, and our important belongings and drove to a designated safe zone. My husband, an IT engineer, was not eligible to leave the country due to martial law, and my mother-in-law chose to stay behind in a safer part of Ukraine where she had family. So, a difficult decision we never thought we would ever have to make was made. I left with our daughter and my mother, carrying only the essentials and the unbearable weight of uncertainty. We first went to Paris, where a friend helped us find temporary shelter. But very quickly, we realized that language would be a barrier. I had some basic English, and my daughter's English was strong, but neither of us spoke French. Every small task became a challenge. Then, we heard that Canada was offering a special program for Ukrainians. The Canada-Ukraine authorization for emergency travel (CUAET) program offered three years of support, including the right to work, study, and live in safety. That offer felt like a door opening in the darkness. Before we arrived, we studied everything we could. Canada seemed like a country built on fairness and care. A country that values the environment, social support, and technology. But life in Canada also would also come with cultural differences. In Ukraine, we are raised in a collective spirit, community comes first. In Canada, people are encouraged to build their lives independently. It's not wrong, it's just different and would take some time to adjust. One of the hardest things was starting over. From Paris, we searched for housing in Toronto, Ont. but most listings said no pets were allowed. We had already made the difficult decision to leave our parrot behind due to airline restrictions, and we couldn't bear to leave our cat, either. After many setbacks, we finally found a condo in North York that accepted pets. Our cat, in a way, helped us choose our new home. The stress was overwhelming. And we carried grief with us, too. My daughter's best friend, Arseniy, was lost to the war. They had grown up together. He was like family. That kind of loss… it changes something in you forever. Even here, far from the bombs, we feel the war every day. We were welcomed in a way I didn't expect when we arrived in Toronto. At the airport, someone gave us a guidebook in Ukrainian, filled with information and support. That small act meant so much. It told me we weren't alone. We found our footing slowly. Language classes were our first step. The Mennonite New Life Centre (MNLC) in North York became our lifeline. The staff weren't just teachers, they were mentors, therapists, and friends. My mother, Kateryna, who was 66 when we arrived, had never studied English before. The first classes were online, and she hated them. It was hard to convince her to try again. But then she met Teacher Lama at MNLC. Somehow, with patience and kindness, she created a space where my mother felt safe to learn. In just two and a half years, my mom went from zero English to being able to shop, visit a doctor, and use the bank on her own. For me, as her daughter, that's one of the proudest moments of all. Another major support during our transition was the Canadian education system. Especially St. Jerome Catholic School, who welcomed my daughter with warmth, encouragement, and the structure she needed to adjust emotionally and academically. It was one of the key foundations that helped us rebuild a sense of normalcy. Once I regained my footing, I wanted to give back. I began writing simple guides for other newcomers on how to find work, register for school, and access support and shared them through the Agapas Centre, led by Olga Ivanova. Later, I joined a skilled trades program at JVS, thanks to the encouragement of Eman Ismail-Elmasri, an inspiring professional who helps newcomers thrive. That experience gave me purpose again and connected me to a greater mission. Thanks to my teachers at MNLC, Teresa, Nadya, and Ivan, I was introduced to York University's Bridging Program. I studied business, adapted my previous education to the Canadian market, and graduated with an official York University Business Certificate. That ceremony was just a few weeks ago. I cried the entire day. Because for me, it wasn't just a certificate, it was proof that we had made it this far. That journey also led me to Monica Anne Brennan, Associate Director of the Internationally Educated Professionals program at York. Her leadership, like Eman's, has already helped thousands of newcomers find their footing. I feel incredibly fortunate to have crossed paths with people who give so much of themselves to help others succeed. What makes Canada unique, in my eyes, is one word: willingness. So many people, teachers, social workers, and neighbours genuinely try to help. It's not always perfect, but you can feel the effort. You can feel the care. There are still things I'm not ready to talk about. The situation in Kharkiv has become worse again. The shelling, the destruction… it's relentless. My daughter and I follow the news every day, grieving in silence, trying to stay strong. I never imagined I would have to start over anywhere, let alone on the other side of the world. I never imagined I would rebuild my life with my daughter and my mother by my side. But we did. And we are still standing together, healing, learning, and hoping. And that is what Canada has given us: not just safety but the chance to move forward with dignity, purpose, and hope.
Yahoo
30-06-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Ukrainian mom made ultimate sacrifice for Canadian life - leaving husband behind: ‘Even here, far from the bombs, we feel the war every day'
Yahoo News Canada presents 'My Canada," a series spotlighting Canadians — born-and-raised to brand new — sharing their views on the Canadian dream, national identity, and the triumphs and tribulations that come with life inside and outside these borders. Erin Horrocks-Pope is an award-winning journalist who works as a project manager of strategic development at the Mennonite New Life Centre (MNLCT) in Toronto. She helps new Canadians connect to the community through various initiatives and opportunities. A selection of the organization's participants have agreed to share their Canadian lens in as-told-to accounts for Yahoo News readers. I never really thought about Canada until war broke out in my country. I never really thought about anywhere beyond our city. We had a happy, stable life in Kharkiv, Ukraine. I lived there with my husband, daughter, mother, and mother-in-law. We had everything we needed: work, family, routine, peace. Then, overnight, everything changed. Being close to the border, Kharkiv was occupied by Russian forces on the very first day of the war. The sounds of bombs and sirens replaced the quiet hum of our neighbourhood. We had no time to process, only to act. We packed our car with the five of us, our pets, and our important belongings and drove to a designated safe zone. My husband, an IT engineer, was not eligible to leave the country due to martial law, and my mother-in-law chose to stay behind in a safer part of Ukraine where she had family. So, a difficult decision we never thought we would ever have to make was made. I left with our daughter and my mother, carrying only the essentials and the unbearable weight of uncertainty. We first went to Paris, where a friend helped us find temporary shelter. But very quickly, we realized that language would be a barrier. I had some basic English, and my daughter's English was strong, but neither of us spoke French. Every small task became a challenge. Then, we heard that Canada was offering a special program for Ukrainians. The Canada-Ukraine authorization for emergency travel (CUAET) program offered three years of support, including the right to work, study, and live in safety. That offer felt like a door opening in the darkness. Before we arrived, we studied everything we could. Canada seemed like a country built on fairness and care. A country that values the environment, social support, and technology. But life in Canada also would also come with cultural differences. In Ukraine, we are raised in a collective spirit, community comes first. In Canada, people are encouraged to build their lives independently. It's not wrong, it's just different and would take some time to adjust. One of the hardest things was starting over. From Paris, we searched for housing in Toronto, Ont. but most listings said no pets were allowed. We had already made the difficult decision to leave our parrot behind due to airline restrictions, and we couldn't bear to leave our cat, either. After many setbacks, we finally found a condo in North York that accepted pets. Our cat, in a way, helped us choose our new home. The stress was overwhelming. And we carried grief with us, too. My daughter's best friend, Arseniy, was lost to the war. They had grown up together. He was like family. That kind of loss… it changes something in you forever. Even here, far from the bombs, we feel the war every day. We were welcomed in a way I didn't expect when we arrived in Toronto. At the airport, someone gave us a guidebook in Ukrainian, filled with information and support. That small act meant so much. It told me we weren't alone. We found our footing slowly. Language classes were our first step. The Mennonite New Life Centre (MNLC) in North York became our lifeline. The staff weren't just teachers, they were mentors, therapists, and friends. My mother, Kateryna, who was 66 when we arrived, had never studied English before. The first classes were online, and she hated them. It was hard to convince her to try again. But then she met Teacher Lama at MNLC. Somehow, with patience and kindness, she created a space where my mother felt safe to learn. In just two and a half years, my mom went from zero English to being able to shop, visit a doctor, and use the bank on her own. For me, as her daughter, that's one of the proudest moments of all. Another major support during our transition was the Canadian education system. Especially St. Jerome Catholic School, who welcomed my daughter with warmth, encouragement, and the structure she needed to adjust emotionally and academically. It was one of the key foundations that helped us rebuild a sense of normalcy. Once I regained my footing, I wanted to give back. I began writing simple guides for other newcomers on how to find work, register for school, and access support and shared them through the Agapas Centre, led by Olga Ivanova. Later, I joined a skilled trades program at JVS, thanks to the encouragement of Eman Ismail-Elmasri, an inspiring professional who helps newcomers thrive. That experience gave me purpose again and connected me to a greater mission. Thanks to my teachers at MNLC, Teresa, Nadya, and Ivan, I was introduced to York University's Bridging Program. I studied business, adapted my previous education to the Canadian market, and graduated with an official York University Business Certificate. That ceremony was just a few weeks ago. I cried the entire day. Because for me, it wasn't just a certificate, it was proof that we had made it this far. That journey also led me to Monica Anne Brennan, Associate Director of the Internationally Educated Professionals program at York. Her leadership, like Eman's, has already helped thousands of newcomers find their footing. I feel incredibly fortunate to have crossed paths with people who give so much of themselves to help others succeed. What makes Canada unique, in my eyes, is one word: willingness. So many people, teachers, social workers, and neighbours genuinely try to help. It's not always perfect, but you can feel the effort. You can feel the care. There are still things I'm not ready to talk about. The situation in Kharkiv has become worse again. The shelling, the destruction… it's relentless. My daughter and I follow the news every day, grieving in silence, trying to stay strong. I never imagined I would have to start over anywhere, let alone on the other side of the world. I never imagined I would rebuild my life with my daughter and my mother by my side. But we did. And we are still standing together, healing, learning, and hoping. And that is what Canada has given us: not just safety but the chance to move forward with dignity, purpose, and hope.
Yahoo
30-06-2025
- Yahoo
A 15-day visa that turned into 15 years in Canada: Mexican woman shares 'the most challenging and beautiful journey of life'
Erin Horrocks-Pope is an award-winning journalist who works as a project manager of strategic development at the Mennonite New Life Centre (MNLCT) in Toronto. She helps new Canadians connect to the community through various initiatives and opportunities. A selection of the organization's participants have agreed to share their Canadian lens in as-told-to accounts for Yahoo News readers. When I was a little girl, my father hung a Canadian flag in my bedroom. My grandmother would paint Canadian forests and lakes from memory, telling us stories of the land she visited in her youth. When I finally arrived here, though I was in a strange and unfamiliar place, it felt like I was home. My name is Lourdes Minerva Fuentes Castillo, but everyone calls me Lumy. I have lived in Canada for 15 years, and it has been the most challenging and also the most beautiful journey of my life. I am from Monterrey, Nuevo León, Mexico, a city full of life, music, and colour, but also full of danger. In 2008, the cartels came into our neighbourhood and took everything: our young people, our land, and our peace. I had a good job as a director of sales in a large company, but in 2010, the company shut down and left because of the growing violence. Yahoo News Canada presents 'My Canada," a series spotlighting Canadians — born-and-raised to brand new — sharing their views on the Canadian dream, national identity, and the triumphs and tribulations that come with life inside and outside these borders. Around that time, two young boys were kidnapped right in front of our home by the cartel. I held my sons close inside, and we watched in fear. I called the police and the military, begging them to help, but no one came. We were alone, and I was terrified for my sons, who were only 11 and 16. Every day, I worried about their future and what would happen if we stayed. My cousin invited us to visit her in Canada, so we each packed one bag and came. At the border, the officer gave me a 15-day visitor visa. I was so worried he knew I might not want to leave. But later, I saw it was a blessing. Even though we were undocumented, my sons could go to school and we had access to health care. Within five days, I was meeting with immigration lawyers. They all told me the same thing: not to apply for refugee status because Mexican claims were almost always denied. Instead, they told us to stay, undocumented, for at least five years, and then apply for permanent residency on humanitarian and compassionate grounds. So that is what we did. At first, it was so hard. I felt completely alone. In Mexico, I had a whole community around me, but here, I didn't know anyone except my cousin. Then, I met a woman from the Alidessa Women's Centre who invited me to volunteer. That was the first time I felt like I had a family here. I shared my crafts, my culture, and my heart. Eventually, I became president of the centre for a year, which gave me so much pride and hope. In 2015, I started my own group, Canada Nos Une (Canada Unites Us), to help other newcomer women, to celebrate multiculturalism, and to fight against violence and loneliness. My work also brought me into collaboration with First Nations communities and environmental groups, where I found a new purpose in protecting the land and learning from Indigenous knowledge. I even got to visit Ottawa and meet Prime Minister Justin Trudeau at a Spanish heritage event, where he spoke with me and honoured the work we were doing. That moment showed me how far I had come and how much more I could give back. I will always be grateful for what Canada has given me: safety, friends, and community. It was not easy. Before I found my people, I was very sad and lonely. In Mexico, I thought depression was just something people said when they didn't want to work harder. But I learned that when you feel alone and afraid every day, it is real. My sons and my faith kept me going. If not for them, I would have gone back, returning to danger and uncertainty. Last year, I returned to Mexico for the first time since coming to Canada. Reconnecting with my loved ones and my roots was incredibly powerful. But it was also painful to see the danger and the sadness that had been normal to me for so long. In Canada, I have a voice. Even when I was undocumented, I had rights. In Mexico, speaking out was dangerous. Here, I can speak, I can work, and I can dream. In my community work with newcomers and First Nations communities, I found something that connected my two worlds: the monarch butterflies. In Mexico, the monarchs are a symbol of the spirits of our ancestors returning home. In many Indigenous cultures here in Canada, they hold a similar meaning. Protecting the monarch's habitat and sharing their story has become a way for me to honour both my Mexican heritage and the First Nations land I live on now. The monarch is like my own journey: crossing borders, carrying history and hope, and always honouring the land and the people. I know Canada has its problems. It's undeniable. I see more racism, discrimination, and fear in the streets than ever before during my time here. I hope Canadians will remember that we are all connected and that we need to help each other, especially when seeing what is happening south of our border. I am scared for my loved ones in the United States with the deportations and ICE raids. It feels like the same violence we ran away from. But I trust Canada to stay true to its values. To me, this is what Canada means: a place where my sons are safe, where I have a voice, and where I belong. A place where I can give back some of the love I have received. Every day here is a Canadian moment. My heart is full of hope and gratitude. In January 2023, after 13 years of waiting, I finally became a permanent resident. I cried so much that day. In December, I bought a Canadian passport ornament for my tree, praying that I would finally become Canadian. God answered my prayer. Now, I know for sure that this is my home.
Yahoo
30-06-2025
- Yahoo
A 15-day visa that turned into 15 years in Canada: Mexican woman shares 'the most challenging and beautiful journey of life'
Erin Horrocks-Pope is an award-winning journalist who works as a project manager of strategic development at the Mennonite New Life Centre (MNLCT) in Toronto. She helps new Canadians connect to the community through various initiatives and opportunities. A selection of the organization's participants have agreed to share their Canadian lens in as-told-to accounts for Yahoo News readers. When I was a little girl, my father hung a Canadian flag in my bedroom. My grandmother would paint Canadian forests and lakes from memory, telling us stories of the land she visited in her youth. When I finally arrived here, though I was in a strange and unfamiliar place, it felt like I was home. My name is Lourdes Minerva Fuentes Castillo, but everyone calls me Lumy. I have lived in Canada for 15 years, and it has been the most challenging and also the most beautiful journey of my life. I am from Monterrey, Nuevo León, Mexico, a city full of life, music, and colour, but also full of danger. In 2008, the cartels came into our neighbourhood and took everything: our young people, our land, and our peace. I had a good job as a director of sales in a large company, but in 2010, the company shut down and left because of the growing violence. Yahoo News Canada presents 'My Canada," a series spotlighting Canadians — born-and-raised to brand new — sharing their views on the Canadian dream, national identity, and the triumphs and tribulations that come with life inside and outside these borders. Around that time, two young boys were kidnapped right in front of our home by the cartel. I held my sons close inside, and we watched in fear. I called the police and the military, begging them to help, but no one came. We were alone, and I was terrified for my sons, who were only 11 and 16. Every day, I worried about their future and what would happen if we stayed. My cousin invited us to visit her in Canada, so we each packed one bag and came. At the border, the officer gave me a 15-day visitor visa. I was so worried he knew I might not want to leave. But later, I saw it was a blessing. Even though we were undocumented, my sons could go to school and we had access to health care. Within five days, I was meeting with immigration lawyers. They all told me the same thing: not to apply for refugee status because Mexican claims were almost always denied. Instead, they told us to stay, undocumented, for at least five years, and then apply for permanent residency on humanitarian and compassionate grounds. So that is what we did. At first, it was so hard. I felt completely alone. In Mexico, I had a whole community around me, but here, I didn't know anyone except my cousin. Then, I met a woman from the Alidessa Women's Centre who invited me to volunteer. That was the first time I felt like I had a family here. I shared my crafts, my culture, and my heart. Eventually, I became president of the centre for a year, which gave me so much pride and hope. In 2015, I started my own group, Canada Nos Une (Canada Unites Us), to help other newcomer women, to celebrate multiculturalism, and to fight against violence and loneliness. My work also brought me into collaboration with First Nations communities and environmental groups, where I found a new purpose in protecting the land and learning from Indigenous knowledge. I even got to visit Ottawa and meet Prime Minister Justin Trudeau at a Spanish heritage event, where he spoke with me and honoured the work we were doing. That moment showed me how far I had come and how much more I could give back. I will always be grateful for what Canada has given me: safety, friends, and community. It was not easy. Before I found my people, I was very sad and lonely. In Mexico, I thought depression was just something people said when they didn't want to work harder. But I learned that when you feel alone and afraid every day, it is real. My sons and my faith kept me going. If not for them, I would have gone back, returning to danger and uncertainty. Last year, I returned to Mexico for the first time since coming to Canada. Reconnecting with my loved ones and my roots was incredibly powerful. But it was also painful to see the danger and the sadness that had been normal to me for so long. In Canada, I have a voice. Even when I was undocumented, I had rights. In Mexico, speaking out was dangerous. Here, I can speak, I can work, and I can dream. In my community work with newcomers and First Nations communities, I found something that connected my two worlds: the monarch butterflies. In Mexico, the monarchs are a symbol of the spirits of our ancestors returning home. In many Indigenous cultures here in Canada, they hold a similar meaning. Protecting the monarch's habitat and sharing their story has become a way for me to honour both my Mexican heritage and the First Nations land I live on now. The monarch is like my own journey: crossing borders, carrying history and hope, and always honouring the land and the people. I know Canada has its problems. It's undeniable. I see more racism, discrimination, and fear in the streets than ever before during my time here. I hope Canadians will remember that we are all connected and that we need to help each other, especially when seeing what is happening south of our border. I am scared for my loved ones in the United States with the deportations and ICE raids. It feels like the same violence we ran away from. But I trust Canada to stay true to its values. To me, this is what Canada means: a place where my sons are safe, where I have a voice, and where I belong. A place where I can give back some of the love I have received. Every day here is a Canadian moment. My heart is full of hope and gratitude. In January 2023, after 13 years of waiting, I finally became a permanent resident. I cried so much that day. In December, I bought a Canadian passport ornament for my tree, praying that I would finally become Canadian. God answered my prayer. Now, I know for sure that this is my home.
