October 23, 2025.  Today is my son’s birthday.  He’d be a fully grown man now. Eddie would be sixty-four years old, the same age as Barack Obama. But he passed from this life when he was seventeen, a month before his eighteenth birthday, forty-six years ago.  Funny how those numbers are reversed this year – 64 and 46. But this is a special year. We who are still here must know that. This is the year of the rise of goodness.

I know how that sounds. Crazy, right? Wars and the threat of wars loom over the planet. Children are starving and bombed to death in the Middle East. African children are dying from AIDS because the medicine that kept them alive has been taken away. There are military troops in our cities. People are being abducted by masked men and sent to God-knows-where without a hearing and no recourse to counsel. American citizens have been put into detention camps. Convicted criminals have been pardoned and are out on the streets, committing new crimes. Hateful rants and death threats are rampant on the Internet. Thousands of civil servants who worked for our health, safety, and welfare have lost their jobs. And in the words of the new American Pope, “The earth is burning.” The rich are getting richer and the poor are getting poorer. Our government is shut down. Members of Congress are hiding from their constituents. A rose garden is gone. And the East Wing of the White House is being torn down in front of our eyes. Destroyed.

And I dare say this is the year of the rise of goodness?

When my son died, the world went dark. It took years of healing to see the light that he had sent back, the doors he had opened. It took work. It took time. But eventually, I began to notice the changes that had occurred in myself and in my family. We began to heal. We began to create. To laugh. We became singers, artists, writers. We found hope. We remembered and honored our ancestors. Our work began to help others. We got better than we were, than we might ever have been. Two new babies came into our world, and we learned to love as we never did before. A third-generation baby has just come to us. Compounding love. Opening our hearts even more. We found our spirits, and Eddie’s. We know that he never left us. A goodness rose out of the darkness. And I began to realize – it always does.

There are those unknown and unsung, who, at this very moment, are performing acts of kindness toward those who are low, lending help to those who are helpless. They are in hospitals and on battlefields. They warn us of hazardous weather conditions from civilian outposts. They are in nursing homes and soup kitchens. They are planting trees and finding money to continue their research into cures for diseases. They smile at the checkout person, wait staffs, and flight attendants, lifting their hearts. They listen to others’ fears without judgement. They’re running for office in places where there is little hope of winning. They come to work every day and perform their public jobs without pay. They dispense hope. They share their money and homes with those who have lost theirs, food with those who do not know where their next meal is coming from, and yes, they are learning from their loved ones in Spirit how to walk in the world. They live in faraway countries and next door. The darkness has made them want to do better. Do more.

I come in contact with people like this every day. Some are my friends. Most, of course, I do not know, but I know of a lot of them. You do, too. They are here and around the world, gently tending the sick and dying, feeding the hungry, touching the wounded in body and spirit, landing our planes. Making us laugh and dance. They are rising in number. They are answering a call. They are quiet and brave, renewed in energy, upgraded by a Power greater than us all. They are the direct response to the darkness. They have heard the still, small voice. They are growing in number, making this the year of the rise in goodness.

So happy birthday, my darling boy. We are not lost. Or hopeless. We’re going to be all right.