The Women Who Teach Us Hope: Stories of Refugee Mothers Rebuilding Life in Utah

How one Utah woman and a group of refugee mothers are turning pain into purpose, faith into strength, and community into hope.

The Strength of Refugee Mothers in Utah

Every December, as we prepare Christmas gifts for refugee families through StrengthenHer Utah, I’m reminded of the extraordinary women who inspire our work, the mothers who fled unimaginable hardship yet still radiate faith, gratitude, and joy. This post is about them and about the woman who brought them together, Briggitte, the founder of United African Women of Hope. Their stories remind us what real strength looks like, and why kindness and connection matter more than ever.

The Beginning of a Friendship

Three years ago, I met Briggitte, the leader of the United African Women of Hope. I thought I was there to help her, to write a grant and teach her project management skills. Instead, that meeting turned into a beautiful friendship. From the very beginning, I was drawn to her strength, her deep love for God, her humility, and her heart for helping single mothers, most of whom had fled the Congo.

She started United African Women of Hope after realizing that when you are in a refugee camp, you at least have community. You live side by side, strengthening and protecting one another as best you can. But when you come to the United States, that support system disappears. Your parents might be sent to North Dakota, one sister to Florida, another to Canada, and you end up here in Utah, often without a single familiar face nearby. Next door there may not be another African woman to help guide you. You are on your own.

Briggitte started this group so the women could stay connected, check on one another, and help each other navigate this new world. What she built is more than a support group. It is a sisterhood. The women I have met through her have forever changed my life.

The Reality of Their Journey

I have met women who have witnessed unimaginable violence and who have lost family members before their eyes. Many fled to the camps hoping for safety, only to experience more pain and even physical or sexual abuse. Yet through it all, they have carried a light and a faith that every child, no matter how they came into this world, is a child of God and worthy of love.

I look at them and often ask myself, How? How are you this strong?

There are mothers who have had to make choices that no parent should ever face. Some have had to leave behind a newborn or toddler because the child was not yet born when their resettlement papers were filed. Others have husbands still trapped in camps. One mother I know this year left her three- and one-year-old children behind because her only choice was to come alone and work toward bringing them later, or risk waiting another decade in the camp. It is a story I have witnessed again and again over the past three years, a mother’s courage wrapped in heartbreak and faith.

When these mothers finally arrive, the challenges do not stop. After just six months of limited support, they must find their footing, learn English, find work, secure housing, and navigate healthcare, all while raising children alone. Some cannot read in their own language, yet somehow manage to get their children to school, find bus routes, and keep food on the table. Their perseverance humbles me every time.

Courage in the Everyday

Behind every modest home is a story of courage and quiet dignity. I have learned to check my assumptions at the door. Last year, a family delivering Christmas gifts asked why one mother seemed to have more decorations than others. What they did not know was that her grown children or past supporters had blessed her with those gifts. This same woman had opened her home to foster children whose parents were in prison. She was giving back in gratitude for the kindness once shown to her.

You might walk into a home and see a large TV or a few decorations that make you smile. Please know that those items are rare, and when they do exist, they are usually gifts from friends, from children honoring their mothers, or from a community that has supported them in the past.

When You Knock on the Door

When you walk through one of these doors to deliver Christmas gifts, pause for a moment. You are standing in the home of a survivor, a mother who has carried unimaginable burdens yet continues to hope, to love, and to give. Her children may be quiet or shy. It is their culture, a sign of respect for their mother. It is okay to greet her by calling her Mama; it is a term of honor and respect.

If you would like to stay in contact with her, let us know and we will get you approved to do so. Nothing is more rewarding than seeing her smile at you and say, “Hello, my sister,” or “Hello, Mama, come, sit and talk.” If you are so blessed to be invited to one of their celebrations, nothing is more joyous than watching them dance and sing, and then they will bring you in.

I will never forget one woman, Mama LaBlonde. After our first Christmas helping the African women, she told Briggitte,

“Before I came to America, I was told how generous Americans are. I have been here five years and have felt so alone. This is the first Christmas I have been able to give something to my children. This year, I feel seen. I feel loved. Thank you for helping bring joy to my family.”

This is what your kindness does. You remind these mothers that they are not forgotten, that they are seen, that they matter, and that they can keep going.

A Final Word of Thanks

On behalf of StrengthenHer Utah, thank you for showing up, for serving with love, and for reminding these incredible women — and all of us — that hope is still very much alive.

Merry Christmas to all of you, 

Melissa Schaefer