2025
Every year, I write a reflection.
This one resisted me.
It asked me to sit longer in the quiet,
to listen harder,
to remember what hurt and what held me.
2025 was not gentle.
I walked into a battle where I often stood alone,
carrying the weight of two truths—
American by birth,
Mexican by blood,
blessed by circumstance,
burdened by awareness.
I watched lines on a map decide worth.
I watched cruelty masquerade as policy.
I watched cruelty masquerade as policy.
I watched people suffer for being born
just one step away from where I stood.
And still—
though this year broke my heart,
it built my spine.
I found God not only in prayer,
but in resistance,
in tears whispered behind closed doors,
in hands held when nothing else could be offered.
When there were no answers, I prayed.
When there was no power, I prayed harder.
And I pray still.
This was the year my faith wrapped itself
tightly around my culture.
The year colleagues became kin,
and strangers became family.
Together, we fought—not for recognition,
but for dignity.
Not for one community,
but for all.
There were moments that felt unbearable—
as if lives were pieces on a chessboard,
moved with intention,
with no regard for the cost.
And all I had to give
was prayer.
So I gave it endlessly.
I felt my grandmother walking beside me.
I heard my grandfather’s labor in my bones.
I saw clearly the road they paved
so I could stand where I stand now.
Privilege became a mirror—
one that demanded responsibility.
Fear ruled loudly this year.
Meanness found its voice.
And I answered it the only way I knew how—
with God’s love.
When God placed this calling before me,
I doubted myself.
I didn’t believe I was strong enough.
But I stayed.
I trusted.
I became.
I learned to pray for my enemies
without hardening my heart.
I learned to offer help
without condition.
I learned to stand next to those
who believe differently than I do
and still call them
brother,
sister,
equal.
I learned this:
There is only one world.
And it belongs to God.
And every day, I pray we return it to Him.
2025 introduced me
to the woman 2026 will require.
I will fight the good fight.
I will stand for my people.
I will extend my hand when it trembles.
I will stand firm in my faith.
I am the granddaughter of immigrants
who crossed borders with hope.
But I am also the daughter of a King
whose reign has no end.
And through my life,
my love,
and my obedience—
I will show the world
what God’s love
was always meant to do.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Elizabeth Galvez is a wife and mother of two from San Antonio, Texas. After working as a pastry chef for years, she discovered my true passion in philanthropy. Joining Central Church of God deepened her love for teaching. She has taken courses in Chicano studies, a subject close to her heart as the proud granddaughter of immigrants. Her background inspires her to uplift and support others in meaningful and lasting ways.
About the top image: “Migrant Mother” by Dorthea Lange
