How to Love Your Neighbor During COVID-19

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(For an immediate guide on how to respond, skip to the bottom.)

“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’” -Fred Rodgers

We are living in extraordinary times.

Even more contagious than the coronavirus, it seems, is the fear that goes before it. If you’re anything like me, you’re probably feeling a mix of restlessness, discouragement, and frustration. Our world is changing daily, and that’s pretty scary.

Imagine how much more intense those emotions would feel if you had health risks that made you more susceptible to coronavirus (i.e. anyone over 65, individuals with underlying medical conditions, or pregnant women and their families).

I can almost guarantee individuals like that live in your neighborhood. 

I live in Seattle, home to what we not-so-lovingly refer to as the “Seattle Freeze.” We have been social distancing from our neighbors long before it was cool. This has led to a city isolated from one another and the sad truth that few of us know those living around us. We are too busy–we say–and make up a million reasons to not know or help our neighbors. But in the midst of a global pandemic, we need one another more than ever.

Unless you happen to be in a position to make sweeping societal decisions, you can’t serve everyone. But you can learn to love your neighbors well (albeit from a distance). There are people in your neighborhood struggling right now — and there is absolutely something you can do about it. Don’t just look for helpers to appear on your social media timeline, be one of those people helping right now.

If you are able you are healthy, able-bodied, and financially stable enough to spare some time, here’s one thing you can do today: drop off a letter for your neighbor, letting them know you are there for them and are willing to help if they are in need. (Instructions and a letter template are below.)

Also, if that is not you, do not let yourself feel shame. There is no rule book for how to cope with the emotions and practicalities of modern life during a pandemic. So give yourself some grace.

How you can respond:

STEP ONE:

Click this link to access a Google Drive folder with a free letter template already written to your neighbors. I have uploaded two PDF versions, one for families with “we” phasing and another for individuals with “I.” I have also shared the Word doc for this letter, allowing you to customize it however you’d like.

STEP TWO:

Handwrite or print however many letters you want to pass to your neighbors. Then make it your own! Write your name and contact details in the blank spaces. If you have kids, commission them to turn the margins of this letter into an artistic masterpiece.

STEP  THREE:

Deliver your letter to your neighbor’s doorstep. Don’t try to get them to come outside with you (remember to follow local requirements for social distancing), but place the letter OPEN at their front door or by a window – somewhere they can easily find it without needing to touch it.

What’s the point of it all?

My hope and prayer is that these letters spark the spread of kindness, compassion, and connectedness in your neighborhood (even if at a distance). Whether you use these templates, get your kids to write an encouraging message in chalk on the sidewalk, or simply send an email/Facebook message, I’d love to hear how it goes when reach out to your neighbor. You can share this blog post too if you know others who are looking for a way to love their community well during COVID-19.

Let’s show the world that love can be even more contagious than fear.

The Words I Have Inside

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Writing is no easy task. You sit down to a blank page while your thoughts are in a tangled knot and try to pull one strand at a time out onto the page. Word choice, punctuation, anecdotes, timing — they all matter to make your story pop the way you want. One misplaced sentence or thoughtless word can clip your carefully pulled string, leaving you with two raw and broken thoughts to clumsily tie together.

I once read that amateur writers write when they are inspired, but professional writers write even when they aren’t. That must be true. I want to live up to that name, Writer, but I worry of falling short of it. Does any writer ever feel their work is good enough? Clear enough? Inspiring enough? Real enough? True enough? The more I write the more I am plagued with doubts about the legitimacy of spending every morning at my computer, sometimes typing out thoughts without a clear understanding of where my words will end up.

However,  another writer has also said, “Stories are our prayers. Write and edit them with due reverence, even when the stories themselves are irreverent. Stories are parables. Write and edit and tell yours with meaning, so each tale stands in for a larger message, each story a guidepost on our collective journey. Stories are our history. Write and edit and tell yours with accuracy and understanding and context and with unwavering devotion to the truth…. Stories are our soul. Write and edit and tell yours with your whole selves. Tell them as if they are all that matters. It matters that you do it as if that’s all there is.” (Pulitzer Prize winner, Jacqui Banaszynksi)

The reason I return each morning to my computer, however tired I may be, is that I believe the above is true. I believe stories have the power to change our world. I have seen this time and time again, from testimonies of how a friend’s world was changed by an act of faith to the stories of refugees fleeing darkness for just a glimpse of some light. Stories matter. They give us meaning when all we seem to have is a tangled up knot of our experiences. They act as a compass in this wild, mapless life.

Stories matter deeply to me, and expressing them through writing seems to be one of the clearest way I can tell mine. So even when I don’t see the immediate fruit of my labor, I will continue to write so that I might grow and improve to tell my story to the best of my ability. The words I have are ones I pray bring hope and remind others of that sometimes forgotten spark of joy life holds for us. After all, no one else can express the words I have inside. The same is true for the words inside of you. No one else can tell the world how you see it, so why not you?

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Arresting Beauty

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My heart tightened in my chest. My eyes widened. My breath caught—then spilled out in a torrent of laughter.

I stood on a hill surrounded by farmland on all but one side, where the sea met a cliff’s edge and winked with every silver splash. The distant hills of the Highlands had turned a royal purple with the setting sun and the world was cast in golds and blues and pinks, the colors of wonder.

Sheep decorated the hillside, as if each was intentionally placed, and stood upon a tall crag nearby—perfect silhouettes against the ruby-colored sky.

Down below, nestled between the sea and the folds of the surrounding hills, lay a town—a “royal borough” as the friendly locals called it—just on the edge of sleep. The windows of its houses glowed faintly, and as the sun slipped from the valley, those pockets of light gave the illusion that a net of golden stars rested upon the place.

Glancing toward the sea I was treated with yet another great sight. Rising from the low-hanging clouds above the sea was a nearly-full moon. It was one of those glorious autumn moons that seem to grow to twice its normal size along the horizon. As it hung in a pink and purple sky, it looked more like a great pearl button on a cushion of silk than a heavenly body thousands of miles away.

Just in case you thought I was exaggerating.

I am well prepared to face most kinds of beauty, but this place took my breath away in the truest sense of that phrase. It arrested my heart, and I hope—I pray—it never lets me go for the wonder it has given me in return. As I gazed upon it all, the sheer splendor was almost more than I could bear. So I sank to my knees and laughter broke from my lips. Why? Because there was nothing else I could do at that point, but laugh.

With this laughter came a feeling deep in my soul that this was one of the best ways of all to discover God. When face-to-face with beauty of this magnitude, time slows, “reality” pauses and the wonder of the moment takes your heart to new heights. Resting upon that hill felt like a glimpse of a truer reality. As if waking from a dream, I had a feeling that I was being let in on some great secret—that this was the heart of God. No hymns sung off-key in a quiet church could quite compare to the majesty and mastery of God in His element. This is the God I know. This is the God I worship. This is the reality He calls us to.

There is a richness in this arresting beauty that refuses to be commodified. It cannot be bought or sold, yet it can be sought. And only in the seeking will we realize that we were the ones being sought all along. C.S. Lewis—and countless other great writers—have noted that even if a person were to never hear the gospel or read a bible, they could still come to know God and how he pursues us through the world He created. In just a single sunset I discovered how true that could be.

Sunset along the northeastern coast of Scotland.

Travel & Scotland & Grad School — Oh My!

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Goodness! Where has the time gone? For those of you who have been following this blog from the beginning… hello again, old friends! For those of you who may be new, welcome to the adventure.

It’s been a year since I last posted, and oh so much has happened since! I’ve traveled to more far-flung places than ever before (Myanmar, Iran, Turkmenistan, Kyrgyzstan, Laos, Albania and Oman to name a few), found myself a handsome and wonderful boyfriend and then moved across the Atlantic to return to school.

After working four years in the travel industry as an Adventure Guide with Adventures by Disney and on the Expedition Staff for trips around the world by private jet with TCS World Travel and National Geographic, I decided to take a one-year break from travel to pursue a Masters degree. Never one to follow the status quo, I ended up choosing a program on the other side of the world (naturally) and have been living in beautiful Scotland for the last four months attending the University of Edinburgh for a postgraduate degree (MSc) in Entrepreneurship and Innovation! Fitting a Masters program into one year has kept me unbelievably busy to say the least. But as I’ve had a chance to rest during my holiday break, I figured it was time to catch you all up on my life. 

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Why I Stand with Refugees (and How You Can Too)

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I don’t know about you, but the political changes and news headlines in 2017 were enough to give me a chronic headache. Especially those concerning the refugee crisis. As the year progressed, fear seemed to became the winning narrative, and indifference the easy way out. Yet as we stand with one foot in 2017 and one in 2018, reflecting on how our response toward refugees has shifted, let’s not forget who we harm when we succumb to misplaced fear and indifference. The refugees our world continues to argue over are not monsters, pawns, nor mere political “annoyances.” They are real people with dreams, passions, skills, fears, and hopes–just like you and me. The one major difference being that they are fleeing war and persecution.

In 2016 I traveled through seven European countries alongside the people photographed below to learn the truth behind this crisis. I discovered the names and stories of every person you see here, and in doing so I learned to see each of them as friends and allies. These are the faces and characteristics of individuals who forever changed the way I view refugee/immigration policy. Their stories taught me the importance of how we treat one another, especially those who are heartsick from long and painful journeys to find peace.

I pray that when you look into the faces of these refugees you will see yourself reflected in their eyes. I certainly do. Read on, or scroll to the bottom to learn how you can practically respond (this includes a letter-writing initiative for local refugees that you can participate in)!

These are the reasons I stand with refugees…

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A Lesson on Exploration from a Canadian Fjord

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 “A ship is safe in harbor. But then again that’s not what ships are for.”

—Admiral Grace Hopper

So far in 2017 I have escaped to Canada three times. Retreating from the loony American politics and the gloomy Seattle weather, a few close friends and I have gone to a little cabin north of Vancouver, located in a mountain-rimmed fjord. It’s only accessibly by boat, so there are no cars making noise or people walking around. Just the sea, mountains, and us—in a word: perfection.

Most of our mornings were spent blissfully caffeinated with a cozy fire at our backs, marveling at the view outside. However, one morning I decided to not just gaze at the mountains and sea, but to get in the midst of them on a kayaking trip to the northern part of the inlet with our Canadian friend, James. The water was abnormally choppy that day as the wind had kicked up, but we were determined to at least give it a try. So I dressed in layers, grabbed a life jacket, and met James at the dock.

The start of our journey was effortless as we kayaked out of the cabin’s sheltered cove. However, once we got beyond the protective rocks we were hit full force with wind gusts and waves. The water was almost indistinguishable from its usual glassy calm. For over an hour we hugged the cliffs along the edge of the fjord in an attempt to avoid the brunt force of the wind. Though eventually we had two options, either cross open water to reach the other shore or to turn back.

A beautiful and old abandoned power station from the early 1900’s sat on the other side. I had been itching to visit it since my first trip to the area and it taunted me, as if waiting to be explored. So after checking our energy levels (and gumption), we decided to make the most dangerous part of our journey. We would cut across the wind and waves, all coming at us sideways, to reach the power station.

While the other photos are mine, I snagged this one from google because I couldn’t stop to take a picture from the water.

Though the sky was blue and cloudless, it was bitterly cold and the wind relentless. The sea was so riled-up that 2-3ft tall waves slammed against our kayaks as soon as we abandoned the safety of the rocks. Those waves might not sound large, but try sitting half submerged in a little plastic tube sometime, with nothing but the lip of a kayak to keep water from leaping a few inches up and over that ledge and inside with you.

It didn’t help that after we hit the first few whitecaps James called to me across the waves, “You know, we would only last about five minutes in the water at this temperature… so don’t fall in!”

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What Adventure Does

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“Most great adventures work that way. You don’t plan them, you don’t get all the details right, you just do them.” -Bob Goff, Love Does

Think about a book you love. A story treasured from one generation to the next; one so powerful it offers readers insight each year it’s read.

Stories like those have a funny way of sticking to your heart, like snow on frozen ground. Yet it often seems hard to decipher what qualities connect them all to greatness. Is it a complex prose? Captivating dialogue? Or, a meticulously planned storyline?

Maybe.

But when I think of my all-time favorite stories (like Harry Potter, The Alchemist, or the Narnia series), the common theme I find is the unexpected adventure their characters find themselves in.

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From Greece to Germany: 5 Lessons from the Refugee Route

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A few months ago I wrote an article for Nations Foundation about my experience traveling Europe’s refugee route. In light of the tragic events that continue to unfold in Syria, I am reposting this as a reminder of what I learned, why it matters, and why we should be paying attention. The Advent season is one of hope and peace, so read on and discover why I believe refugees are worthy of both–and learn how you can respond.

Imagine this: you are in a massive white tent with 200 people crammed together in rows of shaky bunk beds. The air rings with the sound of multiple languages from men, women, and children all waiting to hear what their futures hold. You walk through the tent’s single pathway and all eyes turn toward you, a young woman with a journal in hand, a camera over your shoulder, and a weight upon your heart. As you head toward a family at the back of the tent one father stops you by placing his child in your way, insisting that you take his son’s photo. He points to the dry cracker in the boy’s hand and cries, “This is all my child has eaten in three days. Please, tell the world what is happening to us!”

Now snap back to reality. The scene I just described seems more like something from The Hunger Games than a moment from real life, doesn’t it?

That, however, was exactly what I encountered in a refugee camp in Serbia. And that father’s plea was why I was there in the first place—to hear and tell those stories.

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Story Feature: A Tale of Two Sisters

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“I had a dream to be in school. Then school was bombed—that dream is now gone.”

Meet 19-year-old Malak (left) and 23-year-old Hana (right), two sisters from Yemen who have lived as refugees for nearly half their lives. Malak was only 12 when the sisters lost both of their parents in Yemen… and they have been traveling on their own ever since. From Yemen the two girls went to Syria where they stayed under the care of UNICEF for 5 years as minors. But when the war in Syria forced them to leave, they decided to search for their future in Europe.

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