The Sweet Potato
Guest Columnist, Paula Harrington
“There are mornings that pass like any other, and then there are mornings that feel as though the world, in all its noise and urgency, pauses just long enough to remind you what truly matters.
This morning was the latter.
At the Miracle League of Western Kentucky’s baseball field, the air carried the bright, unfiltered joy of friends who gather simply to play, not for trophies or titles, but for the love of the game.
Cheers rose like birdsong. Steady hands gripped bats with determination. Volunteers jogged alongside runners, not to hurry them along, but to honor every step.
And in that space, on that field where differences are not erased but embraced, you begin to understand something profound: this is what goodness looks like when it is unguarded.
These neighbors, so often defined by what they cannot do, quietly reveal what the rest of us too easily forget. They are patient in a world that demands speed. They are kind in a culture that rewards sharpness. They celebrate one another without calculation, without comparison. Their joy is not performative. It is whole.
I know we are living in times that seem to draw out our sharpest criticisms, where our drama, our disappointments, and our relentlessly political climate can feel contagious.
But we must also remember that faith, hope, and love are just as infectious. Joy, too, has a way of catching and spreading.
Amid the clapping and celebrating and as if the day had already decided to press its lesson deeper into my heart, I was reminded of a group of high school seniors (former students) who came to visit recently.
Once, they were small, wide-eyed, uncertain, learning their letters and tying their shoes with clumsy fingers. Now they stand on the edge of graduation, taller in stature but carrying those same essential, luminous qualities within them.
We talked. We laughed. We remembered.
And somewhere between the stories of “Do you remember when…” and “I can’t believe we’re here” there was a quiet, aching realization: they have always been remarkable. Not because they are flawless, but because they are good.
Truly good.
Not the curated, polished version we often mistake for goodness, but the kind that shows up in small, steady ways. The kind that chooses empathy over indifference. The kind that dares to hope, even when the world offers so many reasons not to.
It would be easy to look at all of our children and feel pride, and we should. But perhaps pride is not the only response they deserve.
Perhaps they deserve our responsibility.
Because if they are the best of us, and I believe they are, then what does that ask of us?
It asks us to build a world worthy of them.
A world where kindness is not seen as weakness, but as strength. Where justice is not an abstract ideal, but a lived reality. Where differences are not merely tolerated, but cherished. Where inclusion is not an afterthought, but a grace by which we live. A world where we work together, not perfectly, not without disagreement, but with a shared commitment to something better.
They are watching us, whether we realize it or not. Learning not just from what we say or post online, but from what we do. From how we treat one another. From what we choose to fight for, and what we quietly allow. If we are still teachable and truly a safe place for them and their friends.
Because one day, they will inherit all of it.
The question is not whether they will be ready. The question is whether we will have been brave enough, kind enough, united enough to leave them something worthy of their goodness.
Whether they are on the ballfields, in the bandrooms, the quiet corners of the library, or out cruising the back roads, they are already wise and we would do well to listen.
So here’s to the class of 2026 and to those sweet souls who came before, and those yet to follow.
May we build together a world that reflects the quiet goodness they carry so effortlessly, a world that is kinder, fairer, and more just than the one we were given.
A world that does not forget who we all are meant to be.
Because some of us have not forgotten. And perhaps, there will come a day when they will lead us into a world where we are all cheering each other on.”
