What does it mean to be a family that Cultivates Compassion?
Small acts of care offer more warmth than we know
When my kids were little, they would ask for a Band-Aid at every bump, bruise, scrape, and stubbed toe—whether it was bleeding or not. And to my surprise, I found myself peeling back the wrapper and pressing one over perfectly unbroken skin every time! I even went so far as to always have the character, camo, butterfly, and princess ones on hand - at home, in the car, in my purse, everywhere.
As a proud member of Gen X, the Band-Aid habit was one of those things I said I would never do. But parenting changes you, so I purchased the fun, extra-expensive Band-Aids and handed them out like they were oxygen. And every time I did, I marveled at how much comfort my babies found in those tiny strips of cartoon-covered plastic.
Why did I do this, you might be asking?
I did it because I realized I wasn’t just treating wounds. I was practicing something deeper.
I was instilling a type of faith in my kids. A faith that their pain and wounds weren’t their own, a faith that their suffering wasn’t singular, but shared. I was cultivating in my children a trust that this is a compassionate world.
This simple act of “you get a band-aid, and you get a band-aid, and you get a band-aid” taught me that compassion doesn’t always look like fixing something.
Sometimes, it looks like noticing. Or like stopping what you’re doing to tend to a feeling that may not make sense to us as adults, but is very real to a child. Or like choosing kindness even when we’re busy, tired, or unsure.
All this is a way of saying that, at its heart, compassion is about showing up.
It’s about making space for difference, tenderness, and connection. It’s about making room at the table—literally and metaphorically—for people who might be left out. It’s about recognizing that each person, no matter how small, carries heartache—and that we have a choice to tend to each other’s hurting hearts or turn away.
And so, as October reminds us that cold days are inevitably on their way, may we lead our families in this work of cultivating a more compassionate world. And may we remember that, just like those childhood Band-Aids, small acts of care offer more warmth than we know.
A reflection by April Rosario
