One evening, as Lizie hugged me goodbye and gently called me “Aunt Helena,” I understood something I hadn’t fully grasped before. “Enough” isn’t measured in numbers or possessions—it’s found in the choices we make to care for one another. The next time I set the table, I didn’t pause to calculate portions.
I simply added an extra plate, trusting that there would be enough to share. Because in the end, what truly fills a home isn’t just the food on the table—it’s the kindness that invites others to sit and belong.
