They don’t speak much English, but their eyes sparkle with anticipation as they approach the candy bowl on our dining room table. The children from neighboring houses will often run down the dusty path when they see us arriving home. The door is always open, inviting neighbors and passersby to step inside — a haven of warmth and welcome — nestled amidst rolling hills in our small mountain village.

The candy bowl is a simple glass vessel filled with an assortment of local sweets. In our close-knit community, unexpected guests can arrive at any time, and we welcome them with open arms. The children will come in and out, their flip-flops slapping against the floor, their laughter filling the air. We teach them to say “please” and “thank you” in English, and they learn eagerly.

Down the road, there is another family — a poor one. Their children, too, will occasionally visit our home. These children don’t have much, but their hearts overflow with curiosity and innocence. They peer into the candy bowl, their eyes wide with wonder. We notice their longing glances and encourage them to take a piece of candy. The children dig in, choosing their favorite treats, their faces lighting up with delight.

One day, as I was busy downstairs, the youngest girl from the poor family stood at our door. She is a shy child, her flip-flops worn and her dress patched. The candy bowl beckoned to her, and she hesitated. Without saying a word, she reached in and selected a candy. Her eyes met mine, and she smiled — a smile that held more gratitude than words ever could.

My heart swelled. We had been learning about kindness during our Bible study sessions. Each week, we read a passage and discuss its meaning. The questions are simple yet profound: What does this tell us about God? How can we apply these lessons in our daily lives? We hold each other accountable, striving to live out our faith.

And now, in this quiet moment, the little girl’s actions spoke louder than any sermon. She taught me that shining isn’t about grand gestures or eloquent speeches. It is about love — simple, genuine love. I realized that I don’t need to try to shine; I just need to love. And in that love, I will naturally radiate kindness to everyone I meet and illuminate the lives of those around me.

From then on, the candy bowl became a symbol of my commitment. I continue to welcome visitors, to share what I have, and to say “I love you” even when words fail. The children come and go, leaving behind a trail of laughter and memories.

Matthew 5:16 says, “Let your light shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.”

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