One Worm at a Time.

Spoiler alert: This email ends with a worm, a slug, and a tiny castle.

The most meaningful part of writing this newsletter is hearing from you. Over the last two weeks, your many stories, comments, and notes have been much-needed reminders for me. Proof that empathy isn’t rare, kindness isn’t small, and there’s a whole world of somebodys who are willing to stop, notice, and care.

Thank you for reading and being part of this with me.

Last week, I shared this post about empathy. In it, I mentioned an elementary school student and his commitment to assisting worms stranded on sidewalks after it rains. So many of you responded with your own stories of tiny acts of care. (Many of which, of course, involved amazing kids.) I was especially thrilled to know there are so many committed worm-helperers among us.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that kid, about all of you, and the goodness tucked into your many stories. Out of all this, a poem emerged:

Somebody has to help the sidewalk worms,
Half-drowned, half-lost,
stretched thin on pavement like tiny question marks,
asking, “What now?”

Somebody has to see them, to stoop,
to lift something so small
it hardly seems to matter,
except, of course, it does.

Somebody has to believe in the saving of things,
not for reward or applause,
but for the wild holiness of noticing.

And maybe no one will ever see.
No cameras, no crowds, no speeches.
But the ground remembers where they’ve stepped,
and something on this earth is softer because of it.

Here’s a story from a comment by Kara Holden. It so captures the kind of spirit so many of you sent my way:

“When my son was in preschool, the kids found a slug outside. They all screamed, ‘Let’s kill it!’ But my son shouted, ‘NO! LET’S BUILD IT A HOUSE!’ And he led them in creating a castle for their slimy new friend. They crowned him King Slug. It was one of the greatest lessons of my life on the power of empathy—especially when combined with creativity.”

I love it. This moment she shared so perfectly illustrates what our imaginations can do. Young or old, we get to choose:

We can imagine the best … or the worst.
We can empathize … or catastrophize.
We can destroy … or create.

In a world quick to dismiss empathy as weakness, small acts like this remind us of the quiet bravery it takes. Not just imagining the best but acting in defense of it. Speaking. Inviting. Sharing. Caring.

Fear becomes kindness.
A slug becomes royalty.

It’s a daily decision. To keep noticing. To care, even when it’s inconvenient. But it’s worth it.

And we’re not alone:

There’s you.
There’s me.
There are the kids.
There’s this entire community.

A joyful rebellion fueled by the vision of love being known and felt everywhere.

One worm at a time.
One slug castle at a time.

What do you say?

1. Treat yourself to something from our store! Link.

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3. Leave an encouraging voicemail for our art exhibit at the Saugatuck Center for the Arts! 1 (888) 435-7163 Read about it here.