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All week I’ve been stewing over this. My mind has been a jumble of angry, sad, helpless, terrified thoughts. I’ve been jotting down notes as language comes to me – muddled thoughts that crop up in the midst of everyday happenings – in the hopes of writing something productive or at least forward looking in response.

But then our dear friend’s dog went missing. And our household energies refocused on finding her. Yesterday, while on a hike with her dog-walker and a whole pack of fellow canines, Ali took off after a deer and did not return. By evening, when she had not surfaced, James and Joe headed out on the trail, armed with flashlights and the hopes of a speedy recovery. Unfortunately, they returned home empty-handed. I carried a nauseous pit in my stomach all evening, knowing that gut-wrenching fear and helplessness one feels when their beloved pet goes missing. I was brought back to the (far too many) times one of our pups has given us such a scare and was desperate to help provide some relief for our friends.

This morning, James and Joe headed back out on the trail. The dog-walker had done the same at first light. Many people were on the lookout, searching the land for that sweet, timid black pup in the hunter orange vest. When I arrived to the office, I was met with concerned colleagues who had learned of Geraldine and Joe’s situation and were eager to help. Flyers were distributed, emails were sent, lunch breaks were filled with hikes or drives around the neighborhood where she might find her way. My Facebook feed was a flood of posts with news about Ali, encouraging everyone’s help in the efforts to find her. Whether dear friends or colleagues, family or loosely acquainted community members, it felt as though our entire town had come together to help support this family.

In the early afternoon I received a call from a colleague that one of our student workers in the office had seen Ali near her family’s home. Of course, when she’d arrived to work, she heard the story about the missing black dog and realized that it was Ali that she’d seen earlier that day. A flurry of calls and texts were sent to Joe and James, and they quickly hopped in the car to head that way, only to receive updates from community members who had spotted Ali making her way further into town.

Much to everyone’s relief, Ali was found, merrily trotting down one of our local streets, wet and tired, but safe… but safe.

And in that moment, as James texted me a photo of Ali in the arms of a relieved, blissfully joyous Joe, I was struck with a surge of emotion that went well beyond my own relief and joy at Ali’s return. It was for the many many MANY amazing, kind, thoughtful, caring people that make up our community. In the face of a week where I found myself questioning my fellow human beings and our ability to have real and meaningful empathy and care for one another, I was reminded of the outstanding and overwhelming capacity human beings have for good. The way entire communities can lift one another up, can come to one another’s aid, and provide comfort, support, and love for one another, person to person. At a time when social media was a platform for such evil and ugliness, it surfaced as a pillar of support and outreach, of action and empathy.

Thank you Ali and all of the people who make up our community for reminding me that even in the face of hate and violence, there is so very much good in the world. People have extraordinary capacity for good. So today I am championing that above all else.

Photo: Courtesy of Kate Drew Miller