I met Pope Francis in 2016. It was part of a symposium of the former Pontifical Council for Migrants and Itinerant People (now recast by Francis as the Dicastery for Promoting Integral Human Development). I presented some of my work on migration – as attention to migrants and refugees was a central theme of his pontificate, more prominently than for his predecessor, whom I had also met a few years earlier.
After the conference proceedings, we had an official audience, next to the Sistine Chapel: Francis made a speech and we greeted him one by one. I had my 21 month-old daughter with me that day, thinking of the rare opportunity we would both enjoy.
But I’d underestimated the length of the formalities involved. My daughter screamed “Open the doors, let me out!” through the whole of the pope’s speech. I was distraught, but Francis responded very gently to the disruption. He stopped in the middle of the speech and commented how sweet and lovely it was to hear the voice of a child. I could feel it was not just a platitude – he meant it.
