The everyday goodness we overlook

Each day, I meet people who are kind, generous, and hardworking – people who show up for their communities and each other. They share food, offer a helping hand, listen, and care.

Yet, if we were to judge the world only by the news, we might believe selfishness and cruelty are the defining features of human nature.

But they are not.

In our communities, kindness flourishes. At the local neighbourhood house where I work, I see it constantly: a retired teacher patiently helping a new migrant learn English; a young job seeker nervously attending their first resume workshop, cheered on by staff who genuinely want them to succeed; an older woman tending a community garden, sharing tomatoes with a stranger who soon becomes a friend. These moments don’t make headlines, but they shape lives.

Neighbourhood houses are places where people from all walks of life come together – different cultures, different abilities, different ages. A newly arrived refugee and a lifelong local cooking side by side.

A young volunteer assisting an older resident with technology. A person with a disability finding friendship and connection through shared activities. These interactions don’t just build skills – they build empathy. Radical empathy. The kind that allows us to truly see each other, to understand experiences beyond our own, to resist the forces that seek to divide us.

And yet, these spaces are underfunded, stretched thin, and often overlooked. In an era of growing loneliness and disconnection, they offer something rare: a place where people can belong. A place where someone will know your name. Where you can ask for help without shame, and where you can give help in a way that makes a difference.

Neighbourhood houses could do so much more – if only we invested in them properly. With greater support, they could do even more to reduce isolation, provide cool refuges during heatwaves, help people find work, and create opportunities for lifelong learning that aren’t just about jobs but about joy, curiosity, and connection. They could be places where gardens thrive, biodiversity flourishes, and meals are shared across generations and cultures.

In a time when we are too often told to fear one another, these spaces remind us that we are stronger together. That our differences enrich us rather than divide us. That empathy – radical, intentional, and practiced daily – is what truly holds our communities together.

This is the real story of our times. It deserves to be told. And, more than that, it deserves to be nurtured. •