Everyone’s Dealing With Something

People are people. Services are services. Resources are resources.

Behind every service, every resource, every role we interact with—there is a human being.

A human who lives and loves, Who carries loss and hope, Who hurts, cries, bleeds, and still shows up.

Just because our paths cross while someone is working, serving, helping, or ministering does not mean they stop being human in that moment.

The server. The barista. The delivery driver. The first responder. The medical professional. The person in the car next to you in traffic.

Image credit: This image is not my own. It has been shared widely online and is used here for reflective and inspirational purposes.

Each one is living a full, complex life we cannot see.

Someone may be heading home to an empty house.

Someone may be grieving a child, a parent, a relationship, or a version of life they expected.

Someone may have just received news that changed everything.

Someone may be surviving—quietly, privately—doing the best they can with what they have today.

When someone doesn’t show up at their “best,” maybe the invitation isn’t to take it personally—but to pause-

To breathe. To soften. To wonder: Are they okay? What might they be carrying?

People need people.

Yet, so often, we place the weight of our past experiences—our disappointments with systems, companies, institutions, or roles—onto the individual standing in front of us. We react from accumulated frustration instead of present-moment awareness.

Nervous systems take over. Judgment moves faster than curiosity. Expectations eclipse compassion.

As we move into this holiday season—just days away from Christmas and the turning of a new year—I’ve been sitting with this question:

What could grace look like if we practiced it right now?

Not later. Not when life slows down. Not when it’s easier.

Now.

What if, before responding, we took a few intentional breaths and allowed our bodies to settle? What if we stopped assigning old wounds to new people? What if we remembered that the person who upset us today did not cause the pain we’re carrying from years ago?

They could be struggling too.

The chorus of “The Real Thing”  (song by 4Him in the 90's) reminds me that love—real love—is steady, present, and grounded. Presence may be one of the most regulating, healing things we can offer one another.

Kindness doesn’t mean bypassing boundaries. Compassion doesn’t mean tolerating harm. Grace simply means remembering that we are all human first.

Maybe the shifts we’re hoping for in the coming year don’t begin with massive change—but with smaller moments of awareness- A pause. A breath. A gentler response. A question asked with genuine care.

People are people. People need people—especially when they’re dealing with something.