One Christmas, long after the war had ended, my mother gathered us together with a solemn face. She told us there would be no feast this year—only a single slice of bread for dinner. The war had taken so much from us, and the scarcity of food was a constant reminder of the struggles we had endured. But as we sat in the quiet darkness of that winter night, an unexpected knock on the door changed everything.

When we opened it, there, sitting on the doorstep, was a box overflowing with food and treats—enough to feed our family for days. Neighbors and shopkeepers, people we barely knew, had quietly come together to ensure that even the poorest families could taste a little joy during the holidays.

That night, after the warmth of the meal had filled our bellies, I turned to my mother and asked, “Why would strangers give so freely?”

She smiled, the kind of smile that seemed to carry all the wisdom of the world, and she said, “Because that’s what goodness looks like. It comes from the heart.”

Those words stayed with me, echoing through the years.

For the next 44 years, I drove for the Red Cross, carrying refugees, families in crisis, and strangers to safety. From war zones to disaster sites, I’ve witnessed both the deepest suffering and the brightest sparks of hope. The pain of seeing people lose everything is something that never quite leaves you, but neither does the hope that burns within them, even in the darkest of times.

Now, at 86, after surgery and with the weight of age upon me, I still answer the call. Every time, I return to that moment of kindness from so long ago—the kindness that helped us when we had nothing, the kindness that taught me that even in the hardest times, there is always something we can give.

I do it because I promised myself, long ago, that I would spend my life passing that kindness forward. Because goodness, when it comes from the heart, can light the way for others, just as it once did for us.