Looking Up

This morning I stepped outside and looked up. For the first time in several days, the sky was a brilliant blue. It struck me just how grateful I felt for something I normally don't give a second thought.

The 191 wildfires burning across northern Ontario have forced thousands of people from their homes and changed entire communities. My heart has been especially with our First Nations communities, including Namaygoosisagagun First Nation, which was completely destroyed.

Here in Toronto, we've experienced only a small glimpse of what those fires have meant. At one point this week, Toronto recorded the worst air quality in the world. Recovering from a respiratory illness made me pay much closer attention to the Air Quality Health Index than I ever have before. I found myself checking it throughout the day and appreciating every breath of fresh air when the numbers finally began to improve.

It also made me think about people who live with respiratory conditions every day. For many, breathing easily isn't something they can take for granted.

As much as I've been thinking about the fires themselves, I've been equally struck by the way people have responded.

Firefighters have worked tirelessly in incredibly dangerous conditions. Emergency responders, volunteers, community leaders, airlines, businesses, and countless others have stepped in to help families who have had to leave everything behind.

I read this week that some First Nations collection centres had to ask people to stop bringing donated supplies, not because the need had disappeared, but because the generosity had been so overwhelming that they needed to focus on distributing what had already been received.

We spend so much time talking about the things that divide us that it's easy to overlook the things that still unite us. Watching people respond to these wildfires reminded me that compassion is still very much alive. Thousands of people chose to help complete strangers simply because they needed help.

As I watched the response unfold, I noticed something else. No one was trying to solve the entire crisis. Each person simply contributed in the way they could. Some fought the fires. Others organized donations, opened community spaces, prepared meals, made financial gifts, or simply checked in on someone who needed encouragement.

None of those acts would have been enough on their own. Together, though, they became something extraordinary.

It made me think about something I write about often: purpose. We spend a lot of time wondering whether we're doing enough or making a difference. Maybe purpose isn't about trying to do everything. Maybe it's about recognizing what only we can do, and then doing it with our whole heart.

As I enjoy today's blue sky, I'm also thinking about those who are still living with smoke, uncertainty, and loss. I'm grateful for every firefighter, volunteer, donor, organization, and quiet act of kindness that reminds us who we can be when we choose to care for one another.

I hope today's blue sky stays with us for a while. But even more than that, I hope the generosity we've witnessed does too.

Today, the blue sky reminded me to be grateful. The people reminded me to be hopeful.

With gratitude,

Tamara