“It’s a reminder of the sacred responsibility we carry when we accompany others, whether across a border, into a community, or through a moment of self-discovery.”
Patrick Furlong '06, Ed.D 22 is the Director of the Pam Rector Center for Service and Action.
When I first started my work at LMU, I began in Campus Ministry. One of the programs I ran was De Colores, our weekend immersion experience in Tijuana. When I arrived, the program was at a crossroads. Safety in Tijuana had been a concern in recent years, and De Colores was just returning from suspended operations as the university reassessed the security situation.
In those days, I spent a lot of time on the phone with anxious parents. One of my first calls has forever shaped how I approach this work. A student wanted to participate in the trip, but her mom was hesitant. So, I offered to speak with her directly.
Later that day, her mom called, and we spent nearly an hour talking through every logistical detail of the program. Throughout the call, she kept repeating a phrase that stayed with me: “I know how much this matters to my daughter, and so I want to get to yes. I’m just afraid.”
So we talked, and talked some more, until finally she said, “I think I’m there. But I need you to promise me something. No matter how silly this sounds, on Friday, when you gather the students to depart for the border, I want you to look in the rearview mirror, see my daughter and those other students, and say a little prayer reminding yourself that you have precious cargo in your care.”
The request caught me off guard, but I promised I would.
That Friday, as we gathered on the chapel steps to depart, we went over the usual logistics—passports, water bottles, housing details—and then loaded up the vans. The student climbed into my car, and before we left, I paused. I looked in the rearview mirror, saw her daughter and every other student reflected there, and said a quiet prayer: “Lord, I have someone’s precious cargo in my care as I drive down to Tijuana today. Protect us, and guide me in supporting them.”
The trip went off without a hitch. That student would go on to return for another De Colores.
And all these years later, before every immersion or similar experience, a familiar ritual has settled into my way of proceeding. As we gather to depart, I quietly take stock of each student. I imagine the people who love them, who will be excited, proud, and maybe a little anxious for them back home. Then I offer a simple prayer of gratitude mixed with a humble ask: “Guide me, Lord, as I guide these students through this experience.”
Over time, that mother’s phrase, precious cargo, has become a kind of examen for me. It’s a reminder of the sacred responsibility we carry when we accompany others, whether across a border, into a community, or through a moment of self-discovery.
Ignatian spirituality isn’t just found in silence and chapels. It lives in the messy, joyful, and deeply human moments that make our work meaningful: in vans full of laughter, in conversations that stretch our comfort, in small rituals of care that remind us what matters most.
As we journey through this month of reflection, may we be open to encountering the sacred in the ordinary, and perhaps find a moment of quiet to look around at the students and colleagues we are blessed to serve for and with. May we remember, with humility and gratitude, that we all carry precious cargo in our care.