When I lived in California, there was a wonderful tradition. On the Fourth of July, people would hike long switchbacks up into the San Gabriel Mountains. From the top, you could watch fireworks displays erupting across the vast expanse of Los Angeles County, coming from every direction.
It was a remarkable thing to behold. But my favorite moment was actually the view I received on the way down the mountain.
As I descended, I would sometimes turn and look back along the switchbacks. Stretching down the mountainside, you could see hundreds of people making their way along the trail, each carrying a flashlight. The lights traced the winding path, moving slowly through the darkness. It was especially lovely to see this from the bottom of the mountain.
It was a beautiful thing to witness — this long switchback illuminated by small points of light, people carefully making their way down the mountain together.
Of course, without those flashlights, I would have had no idea they were even there. And on most days, that path certainly did not hold hundreds of people at once. But in that moment, the lights showed something that would otherwise remain unseen.
These days, it may be a bit overquoted, but I still love something Fred Rogers used to say. When frightening things happen, he said, “Look for the helpers.” Even if the phrase has become familiar, it remains true.
In times of chaos or crisis, perhaps part of our work is simply to notice who is there, especially the people quietly helping others find their way.
Smuggling Grace 