A Franciscan sewing center in Lahore gives new hope and skills to young Catholic women locked out of education by poverty.
Newsroom (23/03/2026 Gaudium Press ) In the narrow lanes of Lahore’s congested slums, where opportunities rarely arrive and seldom stay, 18-year-old Maryam Younas once watched her world contract around her. A soft-spoken Catholic girl with careful dreams, she completed grade ten in 2024, holding tightly to the hope that she could one day continue her education. But rising costs and repeated financial setbacks clipped those dreams short.
Her father, Younas Manzoor, works long days operating a cutter machine in the city’s iron market. Twice he enrolled Maryam in private academies, and twice he was forced to withdraw her before exams because of admission and board fees. “My father says we will try again next year,” she said, her voice wavering between optimism and fatigue. “But with every year it feels harder.”
Days slipped into sameness. Maryam scrolled through social media, cooked meals, and helped her mother—a survivor of paralysis—care for her two brothers, both sanitary workers. Each evening, her parents’ quiet concern deepened: would their daughter’s ambitions fade into the same cycle of labor and loss that traps so many poor families?
Then, in early February, a new sound arrived in her life—the rhythmic hum of sewing machines at St. Mary’s Convent.
A Ministry Rekindled
Hope came through a simple parish announcement: the Franciscan Tertiary Sisters of Lahore, an Indigenous congregation also called the Sisters of Mariamabad, were opening a new sewing center for women. On February 9, the initiative was inaugurated by Father Asif Sardar, vicar general of the Archdiocese of Lahore, with twelve young women between seventeen and thirty gathered to begin the program.
“This center is about restoring hope where opportunity has been denied,” Father Sardar said. “It gives marginalized women the means to shape their future with confidence and faith.”
Inside the renovated convent—once home to the Missionaries of Charity—the Sisters have installed eleven sewing machines. The Archdiocese repainted the building, reopening a site that had long carried a legacy of service.
“They used to run a Montessori school, a sewing center, and even provided meals for children with disabilities,” recalled Sister Mercy Lal, who now oversees the facility. “But the Missionaries left last Easter due to a shortage of vocations.”
At sixty-two, Sister Lal is one of four nuns who manage everything—from maintenance and cooking to teaching and administration. They charge a small monthly fee of 500 rupees (about $1.79) for three-hour daily classes, but no student has yet been able to pay. Despite the strain, the program continues, open to all women from low-income families, including those struggling with addiction or sanitation work.
Learning to Stitch Futures
For Maryam and her classmates, the sewing center represents more than a new skill—it is the return of possibility.
“I had learned only a few crochet stitches in the past,” Maryam said. After the Missionaries’ center closed, she tried private lessons but soon grew disillusioned by frequent breaks and inconsistent teaching. Now, under the Franciscans, she practices daily, threading fabric into new forms and stitching her confidence back together.
The curriculum offers two paths: a six-month sewing course or a one-year embroidery program. Participants learn pattern-making, cutting, finishing, and decorative needlework—skills they can later use to earn income or launch small businesses.
The Sisters dream of expanding beyond Lahore, establishing more centers at Mariamabad, home of Pakistan’s National Marian Shrine, and in Sangla Hill, roughly 122 kilometers (about 76 miles) west of the provincial capital. For many women in these areas, such initiatives could be life-changing.
Still, Sister Lal admits to quiet worries about sustainability. “We don’t know how long we can manage,” she said. “But each day we see hope take shape again, and that gives us strength.”
Threads of Faith and Resilience
In a city where economic barriers isolate many Catholic and minority women, the sound of busy sewing machines at St. Mary’s Convent now echoes like prayer. It carries the hum of resilience, the rhythm of lives being rewoven by faith and opportunity.
Maryam often lingers after class, practicing new stitches as light filters through the high windows. “I want to become so skilled that I can open my own center one day,” she said, smiling softly. “Then I can give other girls the chance I almost lost.”
- Raju Hasmukh with files from UCA News
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