Congo pride—how quietly magnificent it stirs beneath the surface, emerging when it matters most. In those moments, Congolese hearts gather like river currents, strong and unwavering, sweeping all in their embrace. Last Sunday, beneath the arch of a gentle Texas sky, I joined Dr. Giselle of Therapeuo Wellness Center and the Community Dream Makers on a pilgrimage through the churches that pulse at the heart of our Congolese diaspora. From each threshold, a warmth radiated that dissolved all distance; the pastors and their congregations welcomed us not as strangers, but as kin returning home. It is curious—perhaps even paradoxical—that so many small sanctuaries, bound by familiar faith and heritage, stand side by side, each tending its own flame, never quite uniting into a single blaze. And yet, as the scriptures remind us, Christ is not divided, and the mosaic of our churches paints unity in diversity, a tapestry woven of many threads. What is remarkable is not the separation, but the spirit that endures within each gathering. Our pastors, steadfast and true, shepherd their flock with genuine care—guardians of hope and healing in our adopted land. Dr. Giselle and I were met with open arms and open hearts, and at Resurrected Christ International Church, our spirits soared amidst the faithful. Pastor Ehambe and Assistant Pastor Jean-Jacques Mbitse—gentle, gracious, and resolute—embraced the mission to uplift, to blend enterprise and service for the greater good. At another altar, Apostle Pie Rene and Maman Boraine Ikota extended generosity as vast as the Congo itself, inviting us to share our message, unscripted and unexpected, yet welcomed as an offering. Their kindness melted the barriers between us, and as they celebrated the grace of twenty years together—a union resilient and blessed—we wished them a future radiant with joy and abundance. Our journey continued to the Mountain of Prayer, and to Pastor Bob, whose hospitality was a balm. Each visit wove new memories: the savory taste of Congolese gourmet, the pulse of music that echoed our homeland, the communal praise rising like incense toward heaven—gratitude mingled with joy. How grateful I am for the Congolese community—for the churches that keep our traditions alive, for the people whose love and enthusiasm shine like lanterns in the night. In the embrace of my people, I find a pride that is gentle yet unyielding, a chorus of belonging that sings through every gathering. Here, in the heart of DFW, the spirit of Congo endures—united in faith, generous in welcome, and rich in love. I could not be prouder, nor more thankful for the gift of this community.