We wake up each morning and dive straight into our routines. We brush our teeth, grab breakfast, rush out of the house, go to work or school, and come back in the evening. Life feels normal. But in the midst of our busy schedules, we often forget something incredibly important—checking on others.
There are people all around us who don’t need money, food, or shelter. What they need is far simpler—and far more powerful. They need someone to greet them, say a short prayer with them, or simply sit beside them. They need a reminder that they are not invisible.
I’ll never forget a visit I made years ago to Kijabe Hospital in Kenya. My cousin had been admitted, and I went to see her because she’s family and a member of my church. As I sat with her, I began to notice something. Many patients around us didn’t seem to be longing for medicine or food—they just wanted company. A simple “hello.” A caring face. Someone who cared enough to show up.
But what touched me the most that day wasn’t even my cousin—it was a couple I met in the same hospital ward. They were from Europe and had no relative or friend admitted there. They had come to the hospital for one reason: to greet, to pray, and to give hope. They walked bed to bed, smiling and talking to patients who probably hadn’t had a visitor in days or even weeks. Their presence, though small in action, felt monumental in impact.
That moment changed me.
Since then, I’ve realized how easy it is to make a difference. You don’t need to be rich. You don’t need to be a doctor or a counselor. You just need to care. Next time you pass by a hospital, a children’s home, or an assisted living facility—just go in. Say hi. Sit with someone. You might be the only person who talks to them that day.
We’re all capable of being that kind of light in someone’s life. It starts with a choice. A purpose. A willingness to pass by and share a moment of kindness. The world doesn’t need more noise. It needs more compassion.
So let’s do it—just pass by.
There are people all around us who don’t need money, food, or shelter. What they need is far simpler—and far more powerful. They need someone to greet them, say a short prayer with them, or simply sit beside them. They need a reminder that they are not invisible.
I’ll never forget a visit I made years ago to Kijabe Hospital in Kenya. My cousin had been admitted, and I went to see her because she’s family and a member of my church. As I sat with her, I began to notice something. Many patients around us didn’t seem to be longing for medicine or food—they just wanted company. A simple “hello.” A caring face. Someone who cared enough to show up.
But what touched me the most that day wasn’t even my cousin—it was a couple I met in the same hospital ward. They were from Europe and had no relative or friend admitted there. They had come to the hospital for one reason: to greet, to pray, and to give hope. They walked bed to bed, smiling and talking to patients who probably hadn’t had a visitor in days or even weeks. Their presence, though small in action, felt monumental in impact.
That moment changed me.
Since then, I’ve realized how easy it is to make a difference. You don’t need to be rich. You don’t need to be a doctor or a counselor. You just need to care. Next time you pass by a hospital, a children’s home, or an assisted living facility—just go in. Say hi. Sit with someone. You might be the only person who talks to them that day.
We’re all capable of being that kind of light in someone’s life. It starts with a choice. A purpose. A willingness to pass by and share a moment of kindness. The world doesn’t need more noise. It needs more compassion.
So let’s do it—just pass by.
