This is my daughter, Karly. Yesterday, she faced one of those days that can shake even the strongest spirit. She had just learned that she had lost her job—a role she had been so excited about. It was a new position as a Project Lead, a role that promised growth and purpose, only to be taken away due to funding cutbacks. The grant money that had been promised was withdrawn by the state, and along with it, Karly’s job disappeared. She was devastated.
But life, as it does, moves forward, even when we are reeling. And so, after taking a moment to process, Karly went about her day, determined to continue. She had errands to run—she went out to get groceries.
A little background about Karly: from the very beginning, she has been the kind of person who has never met a stranger. She is of Native American and Anglo descent, with deep brown eyes and dark hair that she often changes for fun. But what makes her truly remarkable isn’t just her appearance—it’s the warmth and approachability she carries. People are naturally drawn to her. Young or old, familiar or complete strangers, people feel comfortable sharing stories, seeking conversation, or simply smiling in her presence.
Yesterday, as she approached the grocery store, she encountered a man outside. He was cold, hungry, and asked her for money to get some food. Karly paused. She told him she couldn’t give him cash, but she would be happy to buy him something to eat. She didn’t burden him with her own struggles, the carefully planned shopping list she had drawn up to make her money stretch. She simply asked him what he wanted to eat.
He replied that a rotisserie chicken would be wonderful—already cooked and hot, perfect for the cold weather. Karly promised she’d be right back, went inside, bought his chicken, and returned to give it to him. But she didn’t stop there. From her car, she retrieved a warm coat and handed it to him. A simple gesture, but one that carried dignity, care, and humanity. Then, quietly, she went back to her own shopping.
She meticulously worked through her list, item by item, making sure she stayed within her budget. When she approached the checkout, ready to pay, the man behind her in line stopped her. He insisted on paying for her groceries. Karly was caught completely off guard.
“I saw what you did for the man outside,” he said. “I wanted to pay it forward.”
And with that, he covered the cost of everything she had purchased. Her act of kindness, a simple meal and a warm coat, had rippled outward and returned to her in a beautiful, unexpected way.
This is the America I choose. Not red or blue, not divided by politics or opinion—but one that celebrates service, compassion, and small, powerful acts of grace and dignity. Where a meal and a coat can restore hope, and where one person’s attention to another can inspire a chain of generosity.
In the noise of our differences, there exists a world of commonalities, shared humanity, and the ability to lift each other up. All we have to do is show up, notice, and act.
We only lose if we give up.
This is the America I choose—not defined by division, but by the rainbow of possibility.
A meal, a coat, a moment of kindness, and a ripple that reminds us that humanity still thrives.
Credit: Ede Ericson
