People Who Lead Us to Our Soul’s Home Part 2

September 23, 2026

People influence one another because, whether we intend to or not, we are living examples of what we stand for and what we value.

Each of us constantly shows others what we believe, desire, fear, cherish, and advocate. We do this not by trying to convince anyone of anything, but simply by the way we live—the way we love, deal with the range of our emotions, carry ourselves, give and receive, fight and forgive, play and work, gather what we need, honor what matters, and make sacrifices. Without saying a word, we may influence another person profoundly.

Consider the people who have influenced you most. Did they force you to listen to them? Did they bribe you into believing what they believed? Or did they affect you because, in some way, they became living examples of something that was already vital to your soul? Some people influence us so deeply that, without even knowing it, they point us toward something we may have forgotten in ourselves. They help lead us back toward our soul’s home.

Who are those people in your life? I recall such a person who was a child. He was was a quiet boy named Ken— he and I were forth graders in the same class. When February 14th came around, our teachers gave every student a small white paper bag—you probably remember the kind, with serrated edges. We were told to decorate our bags for Valentine’s Day and write our names on them.

When we finished, the teacher thumb-tacked all the bags in neat rows across the large bulletin board. Tradition was that the boys gave valentines to the boys as well as the girls, and girls did the same. In the days leading up to Valentine’s Day, there was considerable anticipation about who would give a Valentine to whom. When the day finally came, we took turns walking to the bulletin board and “mailing” our cards by slipping them into one another’s bags. It was a big thing to wonder who might send you a Valentine—and perhaps an even bigger thing to wonder who would not.

Ken was quiet and made good grades. He was always neatly dressed, but he did not seem to have many close friends because he mostly kept to himself. I was kind to him, and he was kind to me, but we were not what I would have called buddies because he was such a loner.

Something happened that Valentine’s Day that I have never forgotten. Our teacher, Mrs. Jones, told us to take down our paper bags from the bulletin board and take them to our desks. I eagerly opened mine to see who had remembered me. There was a Valentine from Ken. I had not expected a card from him. I was a little ashamed because I had not sent one to him. As the day went on, I discovered something remarkable. Every girl and every boy in the class had received a Valentine from Ken. Everyone. Ken hadn't limited his Valentines to a few close friends or the people he particularly liked. He had included the entire class. I would never have thought to do that. Even at that young age, his simple act spoke to me of something larger than Valentine’s Day. It spoke of inclusion. It spoke of generosity. And, in its own quiet way, it spoke of love.

But there was something else.

A couple of the boys snickered when they opened their Valentines from Ken. I secretly winced. I looked over at him to see how he would react. He knew what they were doing. But he showed no reaction. He did not withdraw his kindness. He did not appear ashamed of what he had done. He simply rose above something that would have embarrassed me to no end. Ken had given everyone a Valentine even though he must have known that someone might tease him for it. That took courage.

Ken never said a word to me about love, courage, inclusion, or the soul. He did not have to. At that young age— as a peer, he showed me. Looking back now, I believe that quiet fourth-grade boy was one of the people who first reminded me of my true home. In a time in life when we are constructing our ego and protecting our vulnerable soul, Ken touched a chord of sacred kinship that I will never forget. Through one small act of inclusion, Ken took me back to the soul—its generosity, its courage, and its refusal to leave anyone out.

And that is how some of the most important people in our lives lead us home. They do not tell us the way. They live it.

Spiritual Practice

Include someone who would never expect to be included. What does your soul tell you about your having done this?

Inquiry

Why might we feel justified in excluding people? 

Prayer

Dear God,

I often wonder what happened to Ken. I have imagined that he continued to be an example of love to others. He sure was to me. Can you please find a way to thank Ken for me?

Amen