Everyone is Carrying Something.

I sat in the passenger seat of our minivan after a Sunday church service a few months ago. My 17-year-old son sat quietly next to me in the driver’s seat. We were waiting patiently for his three younger siblings to get a donut at the monthly “Sunday Social.” I watched the stream of people walking out the front doors of the church, making their way to their cars, some lingering to chat with neighbors and friends in the warm morning sun.

I glanced over at Joe. He was watching too.

“Ya know,” I began, “there’s not one person in that entire congregation who isn’t going through something challenging. Just know that. Every single person has something they’re carrying.”

“Is that why you’re always trying to encourage other people?” he asked.

“Yep,” I replied. “You just never know how heavy that load is or how much help you can be.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t awkward—it was thoughtful. I sat with my own words for a moment. I realized how deeply I believed them. Encouraging others isn’t just a habit I picked up. It’s become a calling, born from my own battles and the quiet knowledge that life is heavier than most people let on.

I looked out at the crowd again. It seemed like well over a hundred people, still standing around in groups, chatting casually. I knew it would be rare to find even five people in that crowd who weren’t struggling with something—alcohol, parenting, packed schedules, money, wavering faith, aging parents, chronic illness, job stress, an abusive boss, past trauma, or even just a deep feeling of being unseen and alone. Everyone wears a smile, but underneath, there's often something else.

I thought of a friend who once shared the hidden costs of running his own business—layoffs, a fraud investigation, having to fire close friends, bad partnerships, threats from angry ex-employees, even notes hand-delivered to his home by stakeholders who had lost money. He told me about friendships that didn’t survive those hard decisions. His words have stayed with me. They remind me of how much we don’t see when we look at someone’s life from the outside.

Maybe that’s why I try to show up for people in small ways—a smile, a check-in text, a kind word in a hard moment. Not because I think I can fix anyone’s problems, but because I know the value of someone simply noticing. I want my kids to see that. I want them to know that being a source of light doesn’t require grand gestures. It just takes being aware, being kind, and being willing to step into someone else’s hard day with a small amount of acknowledgement.

The weight someone else is carrying is most likely heavier than we can imagine. And sometimes, the smallest bit of encouragement—just a kind word—can feel like a lifeline.

If our work at Lone Oak was only about RV space, food service, hotel rooms, and retreats, I’m not sure how motivated we’d be to keep going. But it’s more than that. It’s about people. So instead of just getting up, going to work, reserving spaces, and answering emails, I brought two of my kids to Lone Oak this morning, along with a few friends, just to play. I spent ten minutes talking with a new RV guest who still deeply misses his late wife, even after ten years. And I shared a few fun moments in conversation with Buddy and Matt.

No matter the profession, job title, or responsibilities, we all have the ability to lighten someone else’s load—even if just for a moment—simply by saying, “I see you.”

Remain Encouraged,

Brian

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