Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about humanity — what it is, why it matters, and what recent events say about where we are right now.

Some days, it’s hard not to feel shaken.

The shooting — some call it murder — of an innocent bystander in Minneapolis stopped me cold. An American killed by another American for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. What troubles me almost as much as the act itself is the seemingly cavalier attitude that followed — the sense that this life somehow didn’t matter enough. That there would be little consequence. It makes me wonder about man’s inhumanity to man, and how easily empathy and common decency can slip away when it’s inconvenient.

When I sit with that sadness — and yes, that anger — I find myself asking: Is this who we are becoming?

And then I think back to last week.

To three young women who stood in front of our club and spoke with quiet confidence about their work with Student Shoulder to Shoulder in Costa Rica. About fragile turtle eggs — so vulnerable that the wrong touch or timing could mean the difference between life and loss. About working odd hours, patiently and tirelessly, to give just a few tiny turtles a chance to reach the sea.

They spoke with care. With knowledge. With humility. And when asked the big question — How do you plan to impact climate change? — they didn’t flinch. They thought on their feet. They spoke thoughtfully about ripple effects, education, stewardship, and responsibility.

They didn’t claim to have all the answers.
They didn’t dismiss the scale of the problem.
They simply cared — deeply — and were willing to act.

The contrast couldn’t be sharper.
Inhumanity on one hand.
Compassion, dedication, and hope on the other.

And that’s when it hit me.

When the world feels heavy. When headlines leave us shocked, saddened, and disillusioned. When we question our shared humanity — we don’t have to look far to find proof that it still exists.

Sometimes it looks like three young women protecting turtle eggs in the dark.
Sometimes it looks like choosing service over apathy.
Sometimes it looks like believing that even small acts matter — because they do.

Those young women reminded me that the future is not lost. That kindness, empathy, and responsibility are alive and well. And that while acts of cruelty may grab our attention, acts of humanity are quietly shaping the world that’s coming next.

When I feel discouraged, I’ll remember the turtles.
And the young women who cared enough to protect them.
That’s where I’ll find my hope.