For many in our community, home is not a place—it’s a journey. It’s the feeling of safety after uncertainty, of being recognized and welcomed in a new land. For the newcomers families who now call Riverside home, this city has become more than a destination—it’s a new beginning.

Over the past decade, HMI has helped create that beginning. From newcomer mothers entering a classroom for the first time to watching their children grow into young adults who graduate at the top of their class and give back to the community—these everyday milestones are what “home” looks like.

Some of the most powerful reflections we’ve received came in the form of poetry, written by newcomer women who explored what home means in their languages, memories, and hopes.

Poem By Friba D.

Home is the warmth of life

In my home I feel the sweetness

I touch honesty and smell the happiness

Home is a place that I can hang my heart

We carry their words with us as we mark this moment.

Hope is the heartbeat of HMI. It’s the spark that ignites when someone walks into our office for the first time and finds not just services—but connection in an often unfamiliar place.

Over the past 10 years, HMI has worked to turn hope into action—by removing barriers and building access to education, language, legal resources, and community. When we talk about hope, we’re talking about the transformation that happens when people find what they need to thrive—not just survive—in their new lives. It’s how newcomers become not only residents, but engaged neighbors, entrepreneurs, volunteers, and leaders.

Poem from Latifa B. — Hope

Hope Peace Healthy.

I believe in my God because my God is everywhere, my job, my life,

my family.

Give more love to our group.

I hope for kindness for my children.

Next year I want us to learn more English. I want to understand

more English. Write more English.

I want to laugh more.

To honor humanity, we must first listen—especially to those whose voices are often ignored or overlooked. At HMI, we lift up the lived experiences of people who have fled violence and persecution—not just as stories, but as truth-tellers, educators, and architects of a more just future.

More than half of our team are refugees themselves—people who bring firsthand knowledge, empathy, and urgency to their work. Their leadership reminds us that this mission is not charity—it’s collaboration. And as migration continues to rise, driven by war, climate change, and economic instability, the need to listen and respond with dignity has never been more urgent.