🌎 One of Many: Hope & Humanity
Living open-hearted in a harsh world — and helping our kids do the same.
I carry the loaded tote bag of books up the stairs as my three sons run ahead of me toward the youth section of the library. Two of them sit down to play a game of chess while the third heads to play games on the computer. I wander over to the used book sale, even though my shelves at home are already overflowing.
“Excuse me, miss?”
I look up.
“I need help… can you help?”
I glance around. I’m ashamed to admit my first thought is, Can you ask a librarian?
But I follow him to a computer.
“I speak French… I don’t know what this means,” he says, sitting down. He tells me his name is Kendy. He reaches out to shake my hand. I tell him my name, and he smiles. “I have a niece in Florida with the same name,” he says.
An application for a job at a beef production plant 45 minutes away is pulled up on his screen. I see from the documents that he’s from Haiti, a country facing a severe humanitarian crisis marked by extreme hunger, violence, and widespread displacement.
We begin moving through the multi-step application.
“Will you repeatedly lift 50 pounds? 100? 150?”
“Will you work in freezing temperatures?”
“Will you work in extreme heat?”
“Will you work where animals are slaughtered?”
“Will you stand on your feet all day?”
His answer to this back-breaking work?
“Yes.”
We continue through the detailed application process.
Kendy’s reason for applying?
“Better opportunity.”
He tells me he rode the bus to the library and, after this, needs to get to the address written on a slip of paper. He asks if I know how long the walk might be. I look it up. It’s not a short or easy walk. I show him the map. He doesn’t ask for anything. He just thanks me and says, “God bless.”
We exchange information and say goodbye. I find my kids, who have spent the summer playing baseball and going to the pool. I wonder if Kendy has kids. We grab our books and load back into the minivan, driving through 90-degree heat with ice-cold air conditioning blasting.
When we get home, I scoop the kids some ice cream and Google Haiti’s latest headlines. I see that the administration just announced it will end Temporary Protected Status for Haitian people living in the United States legally.
Kendy is one of many. One of many who flee danger. One of many who carry hope into unfamiliar places, asking for help in a language not their own. One of many who say yes to the work no one else wants to do.
Throughout Scripture, we’re reminded that God's people are to welcome the sojourner, to extend compassion to the foreigner, to make space for those seeking shelter.
“When a foreigner resides among you in your land, do not mistreat them. The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself” (Leviticus 19:33-34, NIV).
The problems in our countries and our world feel so big because they are so big. Of course, we can raise our voices through voting, through advocacy, through posts that help people pay attention.
But the real work happens in the everyday moments: when we’re at the library with our kids, when we decide what kind of people we’re going to be. It happens when we listen, when we help, when we choose tenderness over apathy. It happens when we open our hearts to compassion, when we talk with our children about what’s going on, and when we remind one another that we love because God first loved us.
We All Need Help
We all need help sometimes.
Recently, I was riding with my parents on our way to a wedding, winding through the backroads of Iowa, when their transmission started going out, nearly two hours from home. It was a blazing hot Saturday evening, surrounded by nothing but cornfields and two-lane roads. Everything was closed. No mechanics, no auto parts stores, no car rentals nearby. We were stuck.
It’s hard to ask for help. But I called a friend—someone with a busy life and a full plate—and without hesitation, he dropped everything, drove across the countryside, and brought us home. He had to preach the next morning. I told him he could use the story in his sermon, and he laughed, saying, “I don’t tell stories where I’m the hero.”
The next day, I talked with my kids about how brave it is to ask for help. About how sometimes we’re the ones in need, and sometimes we’re the ones who show up. Both are holy. Both are human.
We all need help sometimes. And that’s not a weakness—it’s how we remember we belong to each other.
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July Reading Guide
Want to care for your soul as you care for others? Looking for simple ways to live into your values as a family—and connect with God and one another along the way? The July Reading Guide offers curated reflections and prayers from To Light Their Way and Every Season Sacred to help you create meaningful moments of spiritual grounding amidst the summer’s everyday rhythms.
Breath Prayer
Monday
INHALE: Even in the overwhelm,
EXHALE: Help me show up with love.
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