twenty six. Superwoman.

I could see the lit up stage through the opening between the metal bars that hold up the market stalls and I could hear the sky train roaring above me as it passed stuffed to the brim with everyday people headed home from a day of hard work. The stage held up two Thai dancers floating around it with the beat of seemingly ancient sounds. Their traditional dress was sparkling with glitter of gold and pink and even after living in Thailand for sometime, I still have to remind myself that these beautiful people are not porcelain dolls. 

As I brought up the sticky spring roll to my mouth everything about my being suddenly felt heavy. Like the commuters I find my days especially long in that last few weeks. I became very aware of the tiredness of my body; my worn and wandering mind; my spirit drained from the recent struggles. The music seemed too loud to endure and I stood to go home. I needed to rest. I needed time to breathe. My thoughts gently brought me to a memory of my Jessica. A flash, and my thoughts then guided me to the screen of my phone from my commute into the city as the sun rose with the day this morning. Jess’s message read, ” I am sorry I haven’t gotten back to you. It’s been a tough week, I have pneumonia.”

That alone would cause me to worry. It never feels good to know someone you love is sick especially when you are one million miles away. As I walked I thought about how tired her body must be. I was thinking how achy she must feel, I wondered if her chest hurt and if she had any medicine that would make it better since she is one of those woman that doesn’t complain much and insist that they can stick out anything...and they do.  I wondered how her mind and her spirit were too? Undoubtly also tired.

As I was going to take care of myself I know that Jess, even when she is sick most often cannot, definitely cannot like I can. I knew that the reason why she was sick was also because she simply won't make the time to care for herself, not with little ones around her who have stolen her heart.

Jess is a mother. 

Jess works with youth who need extra assistance in one way or another which means that after an early and quick fired morning getting her two children ready, she spends the day with other little ones who need all of her love and all of her attention. 

Then she comes home to a five year old (that you have read about before- my Jacina) who doesn’t understand the language, “calm down.” Jacina now has a new little brother and has started Kindergarten. Frankly even at such a young age she has felt the struggles of life lately in a real way. She is becoming aware of how fast life can change and how you must change with it or you will be pulled behind. 

Jessica's 1 year old is Zay is just that…1 year old. He needs her even when she is sick, even when she needs a break. Everyone needs Jess all the time and I found myself wishing I could get her away for a quick weekend vacation. But, I know even being allowed to just be sick without someone needing her would be a tall ask. 

I wouldn’t call Jess my best friend, although at many points in my life she was just that. Jess is my longest friend. She is one of my longest friends who has remained close to me and so I would say that she is also my deepest friend. She knows me better than anyone else for the simple fact that she is one of the only people I know who has seen me change with age and spirit. She has seen me through all of my break-ups with boyfriends. She has woken me up on hung over mornings during college to gorge ourselves on hash browns and orange juice. She has watched my dress style change, my hair, my ideas, what matters to me. She knows memories that I have only talked about once or twice. She has sat laughing with me till we cried. We have cried, and cried and cried over things as simple as a movies and as life-changing as losing people we love; at times we cried for regaining them back into our lives. She is my longest friend, my deepest friend and she is the closest thing to unconditional love I have ever had.

Jess validates me even though she doesn’t always agree and vise versa. We validate each other becuase when it comes to unconditional love- we have got it down. 

I know she is proud of me and her loving words and enriching comments let me know how much. “You’re doing amazing things” is said in one way or another often. Her belief in me sometimes makes me feel like I am superwoman. 

Living abroad forces me face to face on the battle grounds with myself about who and how I just may be letting down the ones I love back home. Days when Jess is sick make me want to be there the most so I could at least continue to show her love that she shows to me. I want to go back to Little Rock if only to remind her that it is not the women like me who deserve the praise and respect that I often receive- but it is the women like her. 

Selfless, loving, strong, and relentless in her efforts to be a good person/mother/therapist everyday despite the fact that the world does not recognize it. A day in May reserved for mothers isn’t even close to cutting it. 

Jess, you deserve to be recognized everyday (although you would laugh at that.) 

The strongest ones in the world to me are people like you. Women who find themselves with pneumonia and who are still no doubt putting their kids in the bathtub (and sitting with them when they refuse to put their toys up and get out) and reading them a story while you all drift off to sleep. Did I mention that I know you are doing all this alone most days? I love you, and I wish I was home to help. 

I am proud to know you. 

To me, you are the superwoman. 

twenty five. Ms. Gibson

I feel that the American education system is failing our youth across the country, particularly students who endure struggle outside of their time in school.

These struggling students can be a little harder to "handle". For them, it is a little harder to sit and listen about math and history when their bellies are hungry and their spirits heavy from the violence they consistently see the night before and in the neighborhood whether from parents, neighbors or police officers. It is harder to listen to teachers who do not listen back and demand respect but have done nothing to earn it. It is hard to look up to school administration who look down on them and never take the time to know who they are outside of the occasional poor choices they make.

So, high school for me (like many others) was hard for these reasons to name a few. I did a great job hiding my pain with humor and made sure the clothes I wore were covered in tiny seals of status in the form of name brands- this way no one would question my life after the 3 o'clock bell rang. I learned to lie well and those four years were some of the loneliest times of my life.

Sophomore year at Case High school I decided to tryout a theater course. I figured I was great at acting at this point since I did it with everyone I met. "This class would be a joke and an easy A+." Maybe an A+ would make my social workers happy and I wouldn't have to move foster homes again for awhile.

The day I met Nancy Gibson, I realized I was not prepared for Theater 101. She was different from every other teacher I met in all the 10 schools I had been in since kindergarten.
She was the first and the only teacher who dug deep and wasted no time going there with us. She wanted to know who we were, what made us tick, what made us different and what made us the same. She pondered what courage meant for the incoming collective year after year and how each one of us could contribute to the success or to the failure of the class. She pushed me to think critically and think all the time. She pushed us to think for ourselves and than to speak that out loud to the world. She asked us to feel too which was the last thing I wanted to do. This class was not going to be easy at all.

It was the improv activities that we participated in the first day that tipped me over the edge. We had t to be comfortable and trust the others in the class to be silly and not be made fun of. This was insanely hard for me.  I marched to go the guidance counselor after the bell rang and asked if there was another class I could take during that time slot. There wasn't.
Shit.
Okay fine.
I will just get through it.

As class went on I learned many things. I learned how to build community with others around me. How you ask?
Nancy.
Nancy invited us to listen to each other and as we were provided the space and time to the very many pieces of our authentic stories. Through this, I realized I was not alone in my pain. It pulled me out of being isolated whether I liked it or not. I started to make friends in this class, the real kind. The kind who listened to my words, saw me for what I was and loved me still. To this day, as a 30 year who lives abroad, many of these people are still my family.

At the end of the class, we had to put our stories together into a production that was written, directed, and acted by us. We were asked to bring those stories and that vulnerability we gave in class everyday to the city now. My heart sank. "I can't do it," repeated over and over in my mind.

With that mindset I wrote a piece that was honest, but not as brave as it could have been.
One week before we had the show, we were practicing in the theater. It was my first time saying my monolog out loud in front of our class. My paper was riddled with erasings from my latest change and edit to make this monologue said as an act, rather than said from my heart.

I avoided eyes with Nancy (which is what she let us call her because as she would always remind us- we are all equal humans here!) After the half-hearted applause from my class subsided, she rose and stood next to me.  Boldly, she asked me to do it again, but this time at least "say it like you mean any of it." Line by line, she would make me repeat it till she could hear me open up. I hated every minute. I was uncomfortable. I knew she could see through the mask I put up for the world. I wanted to walk out, and she told me I could if I wanted to.

Of course, I couldn't walk out at that point. No way. We were all a family in there and that theater and Nancy were the only places that I felt safe in that school and outside of it. If I walked out on my story -I was walking out on everyone else's. I continued.
A part of my monolog came that was painful and she put her hand on my shoulder and ask me if this part made me angry. It did. She nodded her head and I knew I could scream it if I wanted. I did.

I finished my monolog in tears- heart beating fast. The room was quiet now and still.
I took a deep breath in and sat down as my theater family hugged me.
Nancy said, "there you are" and gave me a high five with her warm smile.

That moment was the first time since I entered foster care five years before that I too could see myself; feel myself. "There you are Katy." The Katy that wasn't afraid to speak from her heart. The one that was brave even though she was hurt, and still being hurt from home to home. There she was. Beautiful. Free. Standing. Crying from strength this time.

Years later, Nancy asked me to come back after I finished my Masters Degree to talk about my work around the world that involves teaching design for social innovation. I teach how to get others involved in building solutions for our world to create better programs for youth, poverty, and much more. I now work to give others a voice particularly in designing their own solutions!

During this time with her, as I sat on the aged and familiar theater floor with her she told me of the years I had missed. The classes she adored, the lessons she learned. Those years asked her to endure a close call with death from cancer. She told me the story of her pain now. The story of her partners strength and love that helped her rise from the ground. She told me the story of planting flowers in the front yard in the most desperate hours. She told me the hope, and the fear. For that moment as she shared with me, I was overwhelmed with love and admiration, yet again. You can never say that one person led you to be who you are. There are many connections, many experiences, many conversations that guide and form us into our current selves.

But for me, Nancy Gibson was the ONLY teacher that gave me permission to tell my story the way I wanted and in that I was able to re-write it. I can boldly say that class, Nancy and the other students who met with me 2x-3x a week in those seats are the first reason I chose the right path outside of class. Statistically, by age 19 I had a 50% chance of being pregnant and homeless. 64% chance of being addicted to drugs, and 64% of being incarcerated.
Instead, I was in a 4-year college working with other at-risk youth practicing the skills that Nancy taught me. Unlocking the stories in others and pulling out courage to share; courage to listen and to speak, scream, and whisper who we are.

No award you can give her will do her justice, and what she does every day is most definitely gift enough for her. Everyone who enters that theater can see that in seconds.
Theater 101 was not about "acting" at all. It was the class that helped me find who I already was. Her class was about re-discovering, building, standing, and leaning in through connection. That is a gift that words can't explain from a kid like me who without it, living a full life may not have been an option.
There is no better teacher than one who teaches that.

twenty four. The wandering travelers.

Living abroad means that you meet travelers often. I always ask them, "So why are you traveling?" and many times the response I get is, "to find myself- a bit of soul searching I suppose."

What I think I know more and more is that what we are actually looking for along the way is not to find ourselves, but to find the courage to be who we are; to cultivate happiness for ourselves, and maintain that for at least most of the time.

Who we are is within in us. It has been from day zero.
The core of us is love, I have seen it over and over when we are at our best, even from the "worst" of us. The rest is the bad habits we picked up along the way isn't it? The tools and reactions that are no longer useful for us but still stick if we allow them and YES- that puts US in the way of our own happiness.

So traveling for this purpose is unnecessary. Find the courage in that time and practice being yourself around strangers.

Travel to learn from others totally different from you....there you will find courage you never imagined.

twenty three. Thai Dad.

In the mornings at this Elephant Nature Park lots of things go on. The other morning in fact, I heard loud shuffling right outside our bathroom window. Surprisingly there was an elephant escapee eating the tree by our house while stepping on top of another, happy as can be. 

More normally however, the elephants wake up to their breakfast given to them by the Mahouts, and the dogs who are resting at the clinic stretch their legs. Volunteers come and walk each one of them allowing the stroll to wake them from their sleepy minds too. 

For a few hours a day, the road that leads to elephant park are scattered with dogs on leashes. Some people getting pulled, others doing the pulling from the stubborn muts who would rather sit in their cage all day then have a leash around their neck. 

It’s my favorite time of day not only because we are starting it by doing something for other beings, but because there is a sense of companionship that comes from being with those animals and not needing to say a word. During this time the park has a consistent quiet and calming fog. It’s one of the few times I find it very easy to just be without thinking or processing what’s going on around me. 

Dogs are inherently comforting, and this is a new lesson for me that I am grateful for.

Every day that I walk the dogs I see this man on his motorbike. In Thailand, this is not an uncommon thing as motorbikes are THE way everyone gets around regardless of age, class, or sex. However, this man was easier to notice as he always has a baby wrapped in blankets tied around this chest and he does not pass me just once, but several times.

Day after day, him and I smile at each other. Sometimes he would stop and raise the little baby's hand to greet me in the traditional Thai greeting “ Swa-dee Kup”. He is so warm, and I found myself looking forward to seeing him for the sense of connection he brought me even in such a foreign place. A reminder that humanity is giving in many ways if you are open to seeing it.

As I spent more and more of these walks enjoying the jungle around me and getting used to living at the park- I also got more time to observe him on his daily rides. One day I noticed him stopping many times. Every 50 meters at least and looking at something with his baby. He would slowly move up a little and suddenly stop again. 

Curious as I am most days I turned my dog (Bubba) to go the other direction and try and see what he was seeing. At the first stop I found a fat caterpillar hanging from his  string making his way back up to the tip tops of the tree. This caterpillar was green with tons of tiny little feet- quickly moving it’s body back and forth to get momentum for his long journey. I thought of how tired it was going to be when it finally reached the trees leaves that were so far away. 

I continued to follow the man, and the next stop was a pocket of flowers. These flowers you can find all over the area where we live. They smell more beautiful than any flower I have ever smelled. They gently drop from the trees and lay perfectly where they land leaving their colors are bright and symmetric no matter what time of day.

I followed him for a few more stops. Each stop, he seems to slow down finding beauty in nature and exploring the organic magnificence all around with the baby in his arms. You may be wondering why he was doing this and why he rides up and down the roads? I was. Was it simply to be curious about the world?

Finally, one day I was out longer than usual giving dogs walks since the clinic was short on volunteers. This time I got to see him finish his ride and pull into his house. I noticed the little baby sleeping as I walked closer to him. He smiled as always and put his fingers to his lips to say the baby was finally asleep. 

Every morning he did this ride with his child, to explore, to notice, and to be patient in providing that child with what it needed- even if for others it may seem far from convient. For the whole day,  I felt a little overwhelmed by the mans capacity for love. I myself even longed for that kind of patience and love from adults when I was a youth. I was inspired and reminded. 

I think many Dads never get enough credit for what they bring to the lives of their children. In South East Asia, and all over the world, I have seen so many Fathers (related or unrelated to the ones they protect and watch over) who build their children up every second they get. As myself and many of my friends are reaching 30 year old- we often discuss ideas of parenting and methods to creating a successful child. All of us thinking we have the best answer drawing mostly from how we were raised. Having a child seems scary for many of us? To be so incredibly  responsible for another being is maybe the most important things we will ever do.

With all my work with youth I often say, “ everyone should take a class before they procreate! It’s the most important job you will ever have!!” 

This man reminded me that good parenting, or any relationship for that matter, doesn’t need much outside of patience and awareness of what others need. We all need someone strong enough to ask us to slow down and notice things that nature gives us for free. Sometimes we need someone to drive up and down the roads of our life with us will we figure it out, or finally fall asleep in comforting arms till we can find the strength to try again.

I want to be more like this man in my daily activities and if I am ever a parent one day, it will not be the many books on child development I have studied the most that will guide my path, but his example I am lucky enough to observe in the mornings while I live at Elephant Nature Park. 

twenty two. Graduation Speech For Alex.

Hello! 


My fellow classmates and I know just how lucky we are to have had the opportunity to attend this school for the last two years together, one that is devoted to the service of others. We have traveled the world and worked throughout the dynamic state of Arkansas striving towards to reach goals that may perhaps create the conditions to move communities upwards, and than in turn, for individual lives that create everyday impact. In committing our studies to this work, we have learned that the service journey inherently also requires pushing ourselves in that direction as well. Needless to say, there are dozens of lessons that we have learned throughout our graduate experience, but there is one that I feel has seemed to headline for my class, the class of 2015.  It’s one that seems to be circling class conversation the last two weeks, the last two years really- and so I think it is important to pay attention too.


There are public service opportunities everywhere, but the most important ones have proven to be found in the everyday places that we naturally find ourselves standing within. For us at the Clinton School, it was the many people sitting beside us in desks placed in these beautiful new buildings built for learning and questioning and struggle.  As one brave and ever passionate professor (Dr. Singhal) constantly reminded us: Changing of the world can only begin with changing of yourself first, then family, then school and so on.


If I was honest about how I feel, I would say our class failed at this public service often for each other- myself included. Often times people felt left out, sad classmates didn't receive phone calls, people didn't put the effort in to find out why someone was avoiding another. We felt disjointed from one another, and unconnected many days. I do not say this in a negative a way.  Many reasons made for a dynamic class that was thoroughly committed to the service of others that happened outside of the school. Just not always or often enough for each other inside of it. It is in this "failing" or lack of perfection that we learn deeply. I have learned from this in so many ways and I am thankful for it. I also love each and everyone of my classmates more for walking through the last two years with me. 


Today, I am writing this blog about a shining example of someone who does do service everyday at the school. For the last two years I have watched him in the background living in a way that matches his ideals. Deeply caring for us, and feeling things with us. He is a man who works on himself first, than reaches out the others around him that further embraces that learning. Today, I wanted to point  him out. Alex Thomas, is the man who helped us all start here in August 2013 Director of Enrollment and Alumni Services. Alex is a quiet guy who does many things for the school in many ways-travels often, yet all of us know that he is there whether we see him day to day or not. I don’t think we realized this collectively until I was talking with classmates the other day about just how much he meant to ALL of us. We saw his service in the quotes he is was sending out individually to us at one time or another. Simple sentences intended to lift our spirits or to encourage us to press on. He knew all of us. 


The conversation about quotes spiraled into more actions he has done for many like never failing to push the send button to a beautifully crafted email on important days like calming our nerves while leaving for our IPSP’s, or reminding us to reconnect and share our stories with others when coming back from abroad. These emails had the magic of coming completely from his heart- encouraging us to live up to our best selves that he always seemed to see us as. Alex is one of those people who makes time for conversations, especially when we are sad, happy, missing home, finding it hard to find balance in a life a service, or worn down. I have never walked into his office when he has been "too busy." In fact, instead, he turns his chair, and insists I sit down. I never felt like I was wasting his time. I left his often feeling more full (more whole) having shared something authentically with someone I trusted. Alex asks us important questions that ensure we think deeply and he doesn’t judge the answer. 

Alex Thomas has helped us become more self-actualized people and done this through "smaller" everyday actions of intentional public service to this Clinton School Community. This is why I stand here today, on behalf of my class to thank him. So thank you Alex, for the actions listed above (my class and the many before me know there are many more to speak of). Thank you for reminding us that service can be accomplished anytime, anywhere, with whatever we have, and for whoever is around us. There is no doubt that your small acts have had great impact. It’s a practice of love, this everyday service. One that my class will take away working on mastering everyday.

These are the lessons that I hope never leave us as we move forward in hope.

twenty one. My social worker Joe.

I met Joe at church a few years back. He would bike there and his shaggy hair and big beard were things that made him not particularly stand out. What made him stand out was his smile. He seemed to be smirking always at this or that, finding joy in the interactions between the people that filled the pews.

I remember zoning out in church and closely watching his face from time to time. Waiting for his cheeks to be pushed up so high by his smile that his eyes would narrow.  His laugh would soon follow and never failed to be  faint; the sounds barely slipping out of his lips before he would push it back down again to his belly, waiting for a meal.

Joe and I have been through a lot. For the last three years we have seen each other through challenges and excitements.

It never really seemed to matter that Joe was homeless. He is one of those people you meet that gives you a feeling of joy after you take the time to spend time with him. He has never been a burden or a chore. He never asks for things unless he really needs it, he always says thank you, and when I am with Joe, I feel safe in mind, body and spirit.
We look after each other.

The first two years I went about our relationship as if I was his "social worker".  I insisted he call me when he needed help, and maybe subconsciously implied, "only then."
Traveling abroad taught me many things, but of the most important to this story is the fact that as soon as I take myself off the caretaker pedestal (I so quickly put myself on), the world seems to open more and relationships too in so many ways. It gives power to a relationship instead of power over one. Relationships with no score cards seem to offer me the deepest satisfaction these days.

Last week when I picked Joe up to grab some lunch, "Mexican food!!" was the craving of the day.
Afterwards, he needed a ride to go to the shelter I used to work at. Then mission: to retrieve his W2 to get some money for a new motorcycle and countless summer opportunities.

At the shelter we were running into old staff friends left and right. The executive director asked Joe how we knew each other and without even a one second delay Joe said, "Katy's my best friend."

I was taken aback. I smiled at him and later in the car I hit his arm with a sense of embarrassment. I could tell that his words had meaning.
When I asked him if he really thought that...he said of course. His face implied that this may be stupidest thing he has ever heard me say, but in the most gentle way- as Joe does.

After I dropped Joe off, I found myself pulled over on a side street.
I had always thought of taking care of Joe as one of my little projects, something that always made me feel good about myself. I thought of Joe as a part of my family, but one that I was including for the doing for "right" reasons. After all kindness was an action, wasn't it? What I didn't understand yet was that kindness does not need to be earned.

Now, suddenly what came rushing back to me were the million things Joe had done for me, for the reason that he simply is kind.

Joe always gives me the biggest hugs when he sees me.
He asks me hard questions about life, and love and reminds me as often as he can that I matter.
His emails to me (which is the way we communicate since he got his phone stolen while sleeping on the streets) are always signed, Love you.
When I was abroad it was Joe who checked in with me the most making sure I wasn't working too hard and encouraging me to find time to relax and sit in the sun with the "monkeys and lizards".
It was Joe who has spent several holidays with me when otherwise it would have been a lonesome day.
It is Joe who asks me if I am mad at him when he hasn't heard from me; he is not afraid of conflict between us, because working through it means more to him.
He reminds me that no matter how busy I am, work is no excuse to not make time for others.
I have shared more about my struggle with Joe than anyone else in Little Rock. More than anyone else in the last few years.
Joe knows me the best.

And in that moment in the car I realized that Joe was indeed my best friend too. Family for the right reasons.
I have had tears fill me up when talking to friends the last few months about leaving him to move abroad. A maybe forever thing. My other friends have family and people who notice when they are gone.
Joe does not.

What is very clear now is that my fear is not that Joe will have no one to look after him. The truth is I am worried that I will have no one to look after me.
It's a good thing I took myself off the caretaker role because I would have fallen a lot harder and hit an unforgiving ground had I not.

My professor said, this story reminded him of who is actually without "homes", who is actually homeless. Who actually lives and prisons and which ones of us are liberated?

Sometimes my failure to see reality over my ego takes away so much depth from the relationships around me.
I am glad I have spent more time with Joe since I have been home. Time spent for no other reason than to eat good food and talk about memories and future goals.
Joe always wants to move somewhere else- his plan now is Iowa.
My plan is to be in Thailand, and continue to define and do what I love. The world is insisting of nothing less.
I am leaving this place a better person, not because of my professors during the last few years at graduate school, or my work that is supposedly contributing to the world, but because of a homeless man.
You can call that man chronically homeless.
Or you can call him my social worker, brother, and heartfelt friend.

No matter what you call him, he matters to me more than I ever knew. I am lucky for that.

twenty. Jacina Beana.

Jacina is so different from me.

Besides the fact that she is now a whopping five years old, she is also the first little kid that I ever had the gift of watching grow from such a young age. She moved to Little Rock with her mamma to come stay with me; she was tiny. Now my memories of that time are so precious, they fill me up with thank you's. Those memories make me wish I had the power to go back there and live them again.
 High chairs and crawling, she has always been a mamma's girl. Always liked girls things like princesses and dresses and ballerinas and pink and purple objects that never really caught my eye.
She is smart and observant, telling me directions to places from when she was just over three.
She is sassy about what she wants, picky about what she eats, and stubborn when there are decisions to be made.
We love each other a whole lot.
She adds to my life in ways I can't explain. Hugs and laughter and exploration happen with her all the time since she is always willing to take walks with me for no good reason and get dirty for all the right reasons (her Mom would not agree).

She expects little of our time together. She asks great questions. There is no doubt that when we are together she wants to be no where else. She makes me feel valued without trying.
Jacina is such a good teacher. She gently reminds me when my phone is out too much: when I am not practicing presence.
She loves little things, like water balloons breaking on the ground, the hilariousness of Barbies stuck on the tops of trees in her back yard and unplanned time to play outside where there is something to explore at every minute.
When she leaned over to kiss me the other day during our Mary Poppins play- she reminded me that there is no time to wait for kisses.
....and when she was dancing to the music of the actors and ignoring the seat behind her for the whole play, she reminded me that we make our rules, and that the rules that make us comfortable and happy are usually not the ones written on the wall that most of us restrict ourselves too.
I want to be like Jacina's spirit more often than I am choosing to be like now in my adult world full of unattainable deadlines and self induced stress and "I am too busy for you."

Since been back to the USA,  I have been really intentional about slowing down when I am with her. I guess I have been spending time with her with the intention of treating her the way that she treats me in my actions and attentions. In doing that, I have learned.

The last few times we have hung out, she has been doing this beautiful thing.
Jacina Lee Foster (as she would call herself) has been asking strangers how they are doing. Coming from my shy little princess- it has been a brilliant example of courage I wouldn't have ever guessed from her. Then, if they respond to her (and sometimes they don't) she will say, "have a nice day."

This may seem silly. Insignificant.
But, it has been so powerful for me.
First of all, I can see the courage it takes her to ask. I watch as she looks at me after she spots someone. Next, she just blurts it out. "HOW ARE YOU?" Sometimes quiet, sometimes loud.

Second, I see the great reactions and how most often these strangers needed to be asked that specific day that specific question regardless of whether or not it came from a five year old.
They melt. Some kneel down, others tell me how cute she is....some walk away cause they were so wrapped up in their own thoughts they didn't hear her.
Every time is a lesson and every time, no matter what the reaction- she says " have a good day."

I ask her questions after those not so positive encounters like, "do you think they heard you?" Or "What do you think they are thinking about." Her answers are always intuitive, honest, and positive.
The last answer she gave me about a older woman who walked right past her was this: " I think she has to go pick up her baby from daycare and is late."

I talk to my classmates and friends for hours about how much we struggle just saying hi to someone, inviting someone to dinner, asking if you can come to a party. We blame others for not making us feel important, and it's hard to do the same for them. We grow up and let ego get in the way which is interesting isn't it?

I would argue Jacina is starting to struggle a little with ego too. It's the hesitation I see before she asks someone.
It's her courage we can learn from, and I do think it is courage on the deepest level. It's the lessons of intentional action and kindness.
It's the one I am learning from that sweet girl every time I get the gift of time with her.