Dear John,
When I think about hope, I think of a woman I met in Poltava.
We met on a cold day in a small coffee shop. She wore a blue jacket. She wore it for a reason that I’ll never forget.
It wasn’t hers.
It belonged to her husband — the man she’s been waiting for since he went missing. She wears his clothes to keep them warm, so that when he comes back, they’ll still be warm for him.
There are days when I feel I’ve heard every story of heartbreak imaginable. But that moment? It’s one that stays with me. Her story fuels me. It’s why I do what I do.
Unlike many colleagues, I don't drive on dangerous roads, I don't repair critical infrastructure, I can't provide medical care or help with prosthetics. My only equipment is my camera and my words. The only thing I can do for these people is to tell their story. To remember what we all lived for. What I lived for. To make their unknown stories loud.
And I carry these stories with me, everywhere I go.
But I’m not the only one.
You carry them too. Every time you show compassion for someone like this resilient woman I met in Poltava. Every time you decide to give, to support, and to care.
Because of you, we’re able to reach families like hers. To bring them help, hope, and dignity. This is the power of humanity. This is the power of your compassion.
As this year draws to a close, I hope you’ll join me in carrying her story forward.
John, if you can, please make a gift today. You’ll be giving warmth — and hope — to families who need it most.
