Every August 19, the world pauses to observe World Humanitarian Day—a solemn day established to honor the aid workers who risk everything to serve others in the midst of crisis. It is a day rooted in the memory of those who gave their lives in Baghdad in 2003, reminding us that the work of “helping” is often dangerous, demanding, and deeply sacrificial.
But as I look at the world through the lens of my own “Wings and Roots” mindset, I find myself thinking less about the global stage and more about the lessons we cultivate in our own homes. If we want our children to grow into adults who can change the world, we have to start by teaching them the art of helping right where they are. Humanitarianism isn’t just for aid workers in distant lands; it is a heart posture. It is the ability to look past one’s own needs long enough to recognize the humanity in someone else.
I have always believed that if we want our children to have “wings” to impact the world, they must first have the “roots” of compassion. Over the years, I have made it a point to bring my own children into the reality of service. I remember taking them to the Union Gospel Mission to feed the homeless; those moments weren’t just about handing out food—they were about breaking down the walls of indifference.
But service isn’t just about grand gestures; it’s about the “back in the day” neighborliness that seems to have faded. We’ve taught our children the nuances of being a good neighbor: how to help an elderly person cross the street, how to offer to put away their groceries, or how to take the initiative to mow a neighbor’s lawn without being asked. We’ve taught them to honor the elderly, to extend a hand to those who are weaker, and to always lead with kindness toward their peers.
These aren’t just “good deeds”—they are lessons in perspective. Children are naturally self-focused, but we can gently expand their world. When we teach our children to notice the person sitting alone, the neighbor who needs a hand, or the friend who is struggling, we are training their “humanitarian muscles.” We are teaching them that their hands were made for more than just holding their own toys—they were made to lift others up.
True success, as I often tell the mothers I work with, is found in the sustainable, steady rhythm of walking through life with others. It means teaching our children that being “successful” matters very little if you are walking over people to get there.
This August, let’s make World Humanitarian Day a family tradition. Don’t just tell your children about the heroes in the news; show them how to be heroes in their own hallways and on their own streets. Ask them, “Who did you notice today who looked like they needed a friend?” or “What can we do this week to make someone else’s load a little lighter?”
When we teach our children to be humanitarians, we are giving them the foundation they need to stand tall. Let’s raise a generation that doesn’t just look for personal gain, but looks for the hurting, the lonely, and the overlooked—and then, with genuine intention and heart, chooses to stop and help.