THE RIGHT KIND OF PERSON

Challenging times have a way of clarifying the things that matter most. When the world seems caught in a storm of division, when the noise of anger drown out the melodies of understanding, the question isn’t just about how we’ll weather the storm - it’s also about what kind of person we will choose to become.

The future will not be easy. Not for me, not for you, not for the people we love who see the world differently than we do. But the future will not lack beauty and goodness. There will always be moments of kindness and glimpses of grace breaking through the cracks - because light can find its way into even the darkest places.

I am for that kind of hope.

I am for humility. The kind that pauses before responding. The kind that listens, not to formulate a better comeback or counterargument, but to understand. Because understanding comes from connection, not isolation. And when we take the time to see someone else’s perspective—truly see it—we aren’t conceding ground. We’re expanding it.

I am for compassion. Not just the kind that feels warm and safe, but also the kind that demands something from us. The kind that holds space for the hurting, even when it’s inconvenient. The kind that says, “I may not agree with you, but I respect your dignity as a person.” It’s easy to be compassionate in theory; it’s harder to practice it when the stakes feel personal. But in those moments, compassion isn’t weakness. It’s courage.

I am for truth. Not the weaponized kind that cuts people down, but the steady kind that seeks clarity without hostility. A truth that doesn’t play favorites, that doesn’t shift for convenience or loyalty to a group. A truth that admits its own blind spots, because it knows there is still more to learn.

And above all, I am for love. Not sentimental or passive love, but active love—the kind that shows up. The kind that speaks out against what’s wrong, not because it’s fashionable, but because it’s right. The kind that holds its own anger in check and refuses to be ruled by it. Love doesn’t always look like agreement. Sometimes it looks like accountability. But it always leaves room for redemption.

There will be days when I fail at this. Days when I let frustration win, when I say things I regret or think less of someone than they deserve. I know myself well enough to expect that. But I also know that failure doesn’t have to be the end. It’s an opportunity to begin again.

So this is my hope, for myself and for you: that we will not let the weight of the world make us hard. That we will not let the headlines rob us of our ability to see the humanity in each other. That we will seek for opportunities to lift each other up rather than tear each other down.

I hope we will look for the quiet moments that remind us of what we share. Threads that hold us together, even when everything else feels like it’s unraveling.

I hope we will speak less about what we are against and more about what we are for.

Because here’s the truth: life is hard, and people are flawed, and the world is complicated. But that has always been true. And yet, every day, people are kind when they don’t have to be. Someone chooses to forgive when it would be easier to hold a grudge. Someone chooses to hold onto hope, even when everything seems lost.

That’s who I want to be. Not someone who’s always right, but someone who’s always learning. Not someone who wins arguments, but someone who builds relationships. Not someone who adds to the noise.

The coming years will test us. But they will also give us opportunities to grow into the kind of people who, when faced with darkness, become light.

That’s what I’m for.