The Quiet Courage of the Helpers: How Many Small Acts can Create a Better World Right Now.

Inspired by my sweet friend Shaner

There’s so much happening in the world right now. The news is constant—wars, environmental crises, political divides—and it can be overwhelming, even paralyzing. It’s easy to feel small and helpless, as if nothing we do will be enough to make a difference. That feeling of being frozen, of not knowing where to begin, is natural. But it’s important to remember: we don’t have to fix everything all at once. What we can do is start small. We can choose a single action rooted in love and intention and trust that it will ripple outward in ways we may never see.

We often think that meaningful change requires grand gestures, but it doesn’t have to. The simplest actions, when done with care and commitment, carry immense power. Make a phone call to a senator. Write a letter to the editor. Or like Shaner said to me…take it outside: start a native garden and bring life back to the soil. Plant trees that will shade future generations and anchor the earth. Seed bomb a forgotten lot with milkweed to nurture the monarchs. Cultivate a child’s imagination and curiosity, for their dreams will become the world’s next great vision. Volunteer somewhere that could use a steady hand or a kind heart. There are endless ways to contribute positively and constructively—and none of them require us to sacrifice ourselves in the process.

This is sacred work, too, tending to the world we’ll leave behind. For those of us who may not be on the frontlines of protests or making speeches in public forums, that doesn’t mean we’re less brave or less committed. Our work is simply different. We’re the ones creating something to return to when the storms pass, when the fires settle. We nurture what is tender, heal what is broken, and protect what is worth preserving.

There is a quiet kind of courage in this work. It doesn’t shout or demand recognition, but it is fierce in its dedication. We are the ones planting trees we may never sit beneath, knowing that their shade will be a gift to someone else. We tend to pollinators, restoring the intricate web of life so that future generations can experience nature’s wonders in their fullness. We cultivate small gardens of beauty and nourishment, creating spaces where birds, bees, and people alike can find refuge.

And yet, this work is not just about planting and growing. It’s about tending the spirit, too. It’s about being present, listening deeply, and offering kindness where it’s needed most. It’s about gathering around tables, passing down stories, recipes, and wisdom. It’s about teaching children not only how to care for the earth but how to care for each other. We nurture them not just to survive in this world, but to thrive and create a better one.

I think of Fred Rogers, the beloved host of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, who once shared the wisdom his mother gave him when he was a boy. When he would see frightening things on the news, she told him, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” Those words are a balm for times like these. But they’re more than comfort—they’re a call to action. Because in every crisis, helpers step forward quietly, steadily, without waiting for applause. And you can be one of them.

Being a helper doesn’t mean you have to do everything. It means doing something—the thing that feels right to you. Maybe you’re the one holding a hand when someone is struggling, planting a seed of hope, or organizing your community to make change. Maybe your contribution is nurturing, healing, or guiding others through difficult times. Helpers don’t always work on the frontlines. Sometimes, they’re in the background, mending what’s been torn, soothing what’s been hurt, and building something beautiful from the ashes.

I believe this work matters just as much as any bold action, because without it, what would we return to when the battles are over? There is bravery in building a good world to return to, and someone must do that work, too. The world needs both the fire of action and the steady hands of those who plant, nurture, and restore. It’s not either-or—it’s a dance, a partnership.

We are the helpers, the healers, the nurturers, the guides. We are the ones who understand that not everything can be rushed. Seasons take their time, as do transformations. Just as the land rests and rejuvenates in winter before bursting forth in spring, so must we honor cycles of renewal in ourselves and our communities. The healing we cultivate now may take years to bear fruit, but that is part of the magic.

So when the world feels overwhelming, remember that you don’t have to do everything. But do something. Even the smallest act, when rooted in love, can nourish a future you may never see. Plant the seeds, write the letters, hold the hands of those who need you. This is the work of the helper, the healer, the nurturer, and the guide. And it is work that the world cannot live without.

With affection, always,

Beth