Pope Leo XIV — a citizen of both the United States and Peru — speaks of building bridges through dialogue and encounter. We asked students to share personal stories of how they, or someone close to them, were changed by an encounter that bridged cultures and revealed God’s love.

We received submissions in two divisions (grades 6-8 and grades 9-12) from students enrolled in a Catholic school or religious education program. The following are the winning essays.

Div. I (Grades 6-8)

First Place Winner: Avalin Shafer of St. Martin of Tours Academy in La Mesa, CA

Bridging Love Through Basketball

Growing up in San Diego, California, right next to the United States-Mexico border, I often heard frightening stories about Tijuana. Adults talked about kidnappings, danger and crime, and because of those stories, I imagined Tijuana as a place to fear. Even though it was so close that I could see its lights at night, it felt like a world away. I didn’t realize how deeply those stories were shaping my ideas about Mexico until basketball, my favorite sport, gave me a chance to see things differently.

Basketball has always been a huge part of my life. My brother played all the way through varsity, and I grew up watching his games and learning to dribble, shoot and compete. I loved the rhythm of bouncing balls, the squeak of sneakers on the court, and the rush of working as a team. But I never expected basketball to become the bridge that changed the way I viewed another culture.

On my team, many girls come from Tijuana, Mexico. At first, I felt nervous around them. They spoke Spanish fluently, and I worried that our different languages and backgrounds would make things awkward. I stayed quiet during warmups, unsure how to start conversations. Even though we wore the same uniform, I still felt divided from them by the border I had heard so many scary stories about. But slowly, basketball began to take down those walls. During practice, we ran drills together, encouraging each other when we missed shots and celebrating when we succeeded. We cheered loudly, saying things like “Let’s go” or “Nice shot” and shared high fives and laughter. Even without perfect words, we understood one another through the game. With every practice, the fear I had carried began to fade. I started to see my teammates from Tijuana differently. They were funny, talented and determined girls just like me. I realize that, even when people come from different places or speak different languages, we are all God’s children, equal and loved by him.

The moment that changed everything came during one of our toughest tournaments. We had fought our way to the championship game. The gym was loud and bright, and my stomach fluttered with nerves. I looked at my teammates from Tijuana, sweat already shining on their foreheads, and saw that they were determined. This time, it was not us and them. It was simply our team.

We played our hearts out. I remember the slap of the ball, the sound of the crowd, and the pounding in my chest as we tried to keep up. Even though we lost, we left the court smiling. Together we had given everything we had. In that moment, I realized how wrong my assumptions had been and how much richer my life had become because of these friendships. Since then, we’ve won many games and championships together, but win or lose, I feel blessed to be on the same team together.

One teammate, Eliza, especially taught me about love that crosses borders. She is from Tijuana and she is relentless, always diving for loose balls, grabbing rebounds and practicing harder than anyone. One day I was frustrated because I kept missing shots. Eliza stayed after practice with me, rebounding every ball and saying softly, “One more. You can do it.” Her kindness, encouragement and patience revealed God’s love to me in a way I will never forget. She did not care that we came from different countries. She cared that I did not give up.

Ephesians 4:3 says, make every effort “to preserve the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace.” Basketball had become more than a sport. It was a bridge of unity, peace and friendship. Before this experience, I never realized how fear could create borders even when people live close together. Through this encounter, I learned that love can look like cheering for someone, staying after practice to help them, or sharing a simple smile or a high five across cultures.

This moment reminds me of Pope Leo XIV’s words about building bridges with dialogue, with encounter, uniting us all to be one people, always at peace. My friendships with my teammates from Tijuana are exactly that, a bridge built through shared experience, respect and God’s love. Now, when I look across the border at the lights of Tijuana, I do not see danger. I see the beautiful faces of my teammates, shining with sweat, joy and unity. And I feel peace.

Division II (Grades 9-12)

First Place Winner: Sewa Adedayo of Michael A. Riffel Catholic High School in Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada

A Story of Culture, Compassion and God’s Love

Sewa Adedayo, shown with her principal Amy Sanville, won the Bishop Patrick J. Byrne Award for Division II. Sewa attends Michael A. Riffel Catholic High School in Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada. (Courtesy of Stacy Allan/Canada)

I used to believe that people stayed with those who understood them best because it was easier. You talk to people who understand your jokes, your feelings and childhood memories. You stay close to what you feel familiar with. I never doubted that, until an unexpected encounter showed me how much life can change when you step outside of your comfort zone and let God work through something simple.

It happened in the summer right after Grade 10. My church partnered with a local community centre to host weekly drop-ins for newcomer families who recently had arrived in Canada. I did not volunteer because I was especially helpful or mature. I only joined because my friend Abby practically begged me to come with her. I promised myself I would stay for one session, smile politely and never return.

When we arrived, the gym was full of families from different countries like the Philippines, Nigeria, South Africa, Ukraine and a few others I did not even recognize. Kids sprinted around the room, their laughter mixing with accents I had never heard before. I suddenly felt small, unsure of what to say, and worried that I would accidentally offend someone. My plan was to hide behind the snack table and avoid awkward conversations. But that changed when a girl about my age walked in with her little brother. From what I learned, they were from Afghanistan and had been in Canada for only three months. Her name was Laila, and she held her brother’s hand tightly. She looked around the hall with the kind of expression people wear when they want to disappear. I recognized it instantly. I had worn that exact same look on my first day of high school.

Something nudged me, gently but clearly. I knew it was not just my own conscience. God sometimes pushes us toward people we are destined to meet, even if we do not understand why at the time. So, I walked up to her, introduced myself slowly, and asked if she wanted to join a particular group that was making bracelets. Her English was shaky, but she nodded. At first, we sat in silence, stringing beads. I felt awkward, unsure of how to start a conversation. But then her brother accidentally spilled his beads everywhere. He looked scared, like he expected to be yelled at. I knelt beside him and helped him gather the beads. When I looked up, my eyes met Laila’s, and I could see the relief for her brother’s safety in her eyes. That moment opened a door between us.

Over the next hour, we talked — not perfectly, but honestly. She told me they had left Afghanistan after losing their father. She explained how hard it was to start over in a place where she could not understand the language, where she did not know the way of living, where her mother cried at night because everything felt overwhelming. She said the hardest part was feeling invisible at school, having no one to talk to, and no one spoke slowly enough for her to understand. She felt alone, even in a classroom full of people. Listening to her, my heart felt heavier than I expected. I realized how many things I took for granted — being able to understand my teachers, having friends at school, and feeling at home in the place where I lived. But I also realized something else. Compassion does not require perfect words; it only requires presence.

From that day on, I kept going to the weekly drop-ins, not out of obligation, but because there was someone I was always looking forward to meeting. Laila and I slowly became friends. We taught each other new things. She showed me how to write my name in Dari, and I helped her practice English phrases for school. We laughed at misunderstandings, shared snacks, and celebrated her first full conversation in English. But the moment that changed me happened during one of our walks home after the program. Her little brother ran ahead of us, and she said quietly with an honest tone, “Before I met you, I thought God forgot about us … but your kindness made me think maybe God sends help in small ways, through people.”

I had no idea one simple invitation to make bracelets could affect someone that deeply. I went home that night and cried, not out of sadness, but gratitude. I realized God’s love is not always shown through big miracles. Sometimes it appears in a teenager who awkwardly tries to make conversation in a crowded hall. Sometimes it shows up in shared laughter, patient listening or helping a child. This experience did not just bridge cultures. It opened my eyes to the kind of person I want to be: someone who sees other people, especially when the world overlooks them. It taught me that compassion is a language everyone understands, no matter where they come from.

Most importantly, it showed me that when we choose kindness, we become living proof of God’s love, often without realizing it.

Second Place Winners

Division II (Grades 9-12)

Arpit Singh
Ascension of Our Lord Secondary School
Mississauga, Ontario, Canada

Arpit, who was born in India, describes a Christmas celebration with a friend whose family is from Peru. Embraced by their warm hospitality, he reflects on how, for the first time growing up in Canada, he did not feel the need to hide his identity or explain himself. “God’s love appears most clearly when people make space for one another,” he writes in “The Night I Felt at Home.” “That is where unity begins. That is where peace grows.”

Third Place Winners

Division II (Grades 9-12)

Faith Guy St. Mary’s School
Lynn, Massachusetts

In her deeply moving “Lessons from the Garden,” Faith describes developing an intergenerational friendship with an older woman at their parish’s community garden. As they raised vegetables together for the food pantry, Faith writes, the woman’s wisdom and example taught her more than just gardening. At the end of the season, Faith saw that “the garden was not just full of food but of hope and love.”

Featured image: Avalin Shafer, shown with her teacher Katie Morland, Maryknoll’s Deacon Leonel Yoque (wearing glasses) and her principal Jamie Brandt (wearing tie), won the Bishop Francis X. Ford Award for Division I. Avalin attends St. Martin of Tours Academy in La Mesa, California. (Courtesy of Leonel Yoque/U.S.)