Dcn. Lolo Villafranco

My name is Dolores Villafranco, but almost everyone calls me Lolo. I was born on September 10th, 1967, in the quiet town of Santa Terresa Potonico, El Salvador. It was a humble place, full of beauty, family, and traditions that shaped who I would become.
Life in Santa Terresa was simple but full of love. But in 1978, everything changed. El Salvador was torn apart by a brutal civil war that lasted over a decade. Fear, violence, and loss became part of everyday life.
 
During this time, I lost two of my beloved brothers—Celestino and Marco. Their deaths were not just tragedies for our family; they were wounds in my heart that would never fully heal. As a teenager, with danger closing in, I made the painful decision to flee my home. I left for the United States seeking safety, and later found myself in Canada, trying to rebuild a life from the ground up.
 
Canada gave me something I didn’t expect—love. It’s where I met my wife, the love of my life. Together, we had three beautiful children. But home is where the heart is, and her heart missed her family in Houston. In 1996, we made the decision to move once more—this time to Texas.
In 1999, I began working at Christ the Good Shepherd as part of the maintenance team. It was more than a job; it was a way to stay close to the church, to faith, and to community. But in 2002, our world turned upside down again. My wife, pregnant with our fourth child, was diagnosed with cancer. We held onto hope, prayed, and leaned on each other. But on October 3rd, she passed away. Just thirteen days later, our newborn daughter, Milagro—our miracle—also passed away.
 
That kind of loss changes a person. It breaks you. But God helped me find strength through the love of my children. I raised them as best I could, with faith and heart, and today I am blessed to watch them raise children of their own. Being a father and now a grandfather has been the light in my life.
 
In 2019, I took a step that had long been calling to me. I was ordained as a Deacon and began serving in social ministry. It felt like coming home to something I had always been meant to do: to serve, to comfort, and to lift others up in their darkest moments.
Through everything, my faith has been my anchor. I never had much of a childhood—the war stole that from me. But it could never steal my spirit. My life has not been easy. It has been marked by loss, pain, and sacrifice—but also by love, perseverance, and purpose. I continue to dream. I continue to grow. And I continue to serve.