Are We Still Human?

a short weaving of words forming thoughts

There are days when I wonder if it will all pay off. The sleepless nights, the “hard work,” the decisions made to better our lives that often come with grieving what we leave behind. The commitments. The yeses and the noes. The hesitation of the heart. The fear of failing once we have already begun.

Will it all pay off?

In the midst of the hustle, of building a foundation some of us may have never witnessed before, do we make space for our humanity?

For the humanity of others?

For the breath of others.
The tears of others.
The hugs of others.
The words of others.
The emotions of others.

Or are we too busy for them?
Too busy to listen, to call, to accept, to renew, to apologize, to confront, to sit, to lie down, to be still?

Are we too busy to connect deeply, not just hoping someone is “doing well today,” but truly asking?

Have we become afraid of digging into our humanity?
Afraid of speaking about our faith, our rebirth, because of being “canceled”?
Have we become so self-conscious that helping someone in need on the street feels like an inconvenience?

Are you still human?

Does your heart ache when you see the nameless ones wandering with no home to return to, no food to eat, no constant love to experience? Do you wonder what their lives were like? What their dreams were? What their hearts longed for most?

Are you still human?

This world has dehumanized us into thinking the goal is to be seen, to be praised, to be “given what we deserve.” But have you done that for someone else?

Have you given time when you did not have time?
Have you given grace when grace was never bestowed upon you?

When did it become difficult for us to surrender?
To accept?
To speak out against injustice without worrying about losing status, followers, or opportunities?

Are we still human?

I still remember vividly being a young girl walking through El Conde in Santo Domingo with my father. My little heart would ache seeing people living in the streets or without the basic necessities. I would ask my dad where their mothers or fathers were, if anyone missed them.

I still remember those conversations. And my heart has remained just as tender, just as gentle, even when others have called me naïve or too sensitive.

But I would rather be that than walk around this world thinking I am above anyone or anything. This little heart feels too much, carries too much, holds too much, and loves too much.

Perhaps our humanity is not gone, only waiting for us to return to it.

What does your heart feel like?

What makes you human?

---