The Catholic social activist Dorothy Day inspired me not to be faithful to any one faith or ideology but to try to be faithful to the truth.  The Trappist Thomas Merton taught me to meditate and learn the truth about myself. The social worker and author Joan Chittister taught me the importance of silence and thought.

This was a gift; the idea has helped me navigate polarization, hatred, anger, and division. Many people worship political ideologies and labels – red, blue, woke, extremism, hatred,  and nationalism. Some people have even come to worship. St. Therese, the Little Flower, introduced me to the idea of small acts of great kindness. I can’t change the world, but I can make the lives of needy people brighter.

But one idea has always stood out when reading or thinking about any of them: small steps, one at a time, from the bottom up. Stay humble in my goals. Think small to do good.

“We would like to change the world,” wrote Dorothy Day, “–make it a little simpler for people to feed, clothe, and shelter themselves as God intended them to do. And, by fighting for better conditions, by crying out unceasingly for the rights of the workers, the poor, of the destitute–the rights of the worthy and the unworthy poor, in other words–we can, to a certain extent, change the world; we can work for the oasis, the little cell of joy and peace in a harried world. We can throw our pebbles in the pond and be confident that its ever-widening circle will reach worldwide. We repeat, there is nothing we can do but love, and, dear God, please enlarge our hearts to love each other, to love our neighbor, to love our enemy as our friend.”

I learned in my spiritual search that some of the greatest minds in theology and philosophy preached the same thing. The smaller you think, the better you do. I get the most joy out of the most minor things at the Mansion. I can’t change the trajectory of their lives or make their children come to visit, or wave a wand and make them healthy again. But I can buy warm socks for their feet, blankets for their bets, toothpaste and underpants, and lifelike cats to hold at night.

I’ve never been good at loving in large ways. I  find the outside world hard to take and generally stay away. But I find I am very good at loving in small ways. I suppose we each have to wear the clothes that fit us.

I love the idea of throwing my pebbles in the pond, confident that its ever-widening circle will out and touch the world. It feels like a cliche sometimes, but I have found it to be the truth – wherever I go, whatever I do, however long I live, I  have also found that I always come to the same place and hit the same wall: there is nothing I can do but love, and enlarge my heart and the hearts of other people.

A former colleague wrote me a few weeks ago and said he felt overwhelmed by all the hatred and fear around him. What could he do? he asked.

I said I couldn’t tell him what to do; I’m not a preacher or a guru. I can only tell him that when I get overwhelmed by the world around me or feel hopeless about my figure, I do some good – help a gifted child go to college, get a car book for Art at the Mansion, who comes to life when he sees a photo of a car. I think small and significant is the way I see it.

Dorothy Day, like Thomas Merton, Mother Teresa, and Joan Chittister, have all influenced me differently, but the messages all come together in one place.

I don’t try to change the world or ever think I  can. No political party is worthy of my faith or worship. I stay above the fray. I throw my pebbles to the wind and hope the ripples carry far and wide and touch the world. I believe they will.

That’s my leap of faith.