I’ve been thinking a lot about military families today.
I saw a social media post saying that ICE plans to be present at a Marine Corps graduation ceremony in South Carolina—checking the immigration status of friends and family who have come to celebrate their loved one’s achievement. Graduation is often the first time families have seen each other after 13 long weeks of training. It’s supposed to be a moment of pride, relief, and joy.
I remember when my brother graduated from Navy boot camp. I couldn’t be there, but my parents went, and we were all incredibly proud of him. That moment meant everything to our family.
The idea that some families might attend a day like that with fear in the back of their minds—that they could be questioned, detained, or separated—is heartbreaking. Targeting undocumented spouses, parents, and siblings in spaces like this feels like part of a growing pattern of policies that prioritize cruelty over compassion. And it feels especially heavy right now, as tensions rise globally and these same young graduates could soon be asked to put their lives on the line.
At the same time, I’m holding onto something hopeful.
This month, we received three green card approvals through the Parole in Place program. It’s one of the few places in our immigration system where compassion still shows up in a meaningful way.
Normally, to qualify for a green card, a person must have entered the United States lawfully. If they didn’t, they are often required to leave the country—sometimes triggering a 10-year bar before they can return. For many families, that makes legal status feel completely out of reach.
This is especially painful for young U.S. citizens whose parents came here years ago without a visa. When those children turn 21, they want to help their parents—but without a lawful entry, the law often stands in the way.
Parole in Place changes that.
When a U.S. citizen serves in the military, they can request this protection for certain family members. It essentially “forgives” the unlawful entry, allowing that person to apply for a green card from within the United States—without having to leave and risk years of separation.
Over the years, we’ve worked with countless families on these cases. And every single time it works, it feels like a small restoration of fairness.
We obtain the Parole in Place grant, then file for the green card. In about a year, someone can go from living in constant uncertainty to becoming a lawful permanent resident. It’s a powerful shift—and honestly, it’s the very least we can do for the families of those who serve.
The three cases approved this month were especially meaningful. In each one, the parents had lived in the U.S. for more than 25 years. They had built their lives here, raised their children here, and yet had no viable path to status. Leaving the country would have meant a decade-long separation.
Now, everything is different. They don’t have to live with the constant fear of ICE encounters or removal proceedings. Ordinary things—like driving to the grocery store—no longer carry the same risk. And just as importantly, their children in the military can focus on their service without the constant worry that their parents could be taken away.
I find myself praying for these young service members—for their safety, for their strength, for whatever lies ahead. And I pray for their parents, too—that they can finally rest a little easier at night, knowing that the country their child is willing to fight for will allow them to stay.