One sunny day in Miami, I left the kitchen door open while making dinner. I live in a small, two-bedroom condo built in the 1960s that hasn’t seen a renovation in decades. The kitchen is tiny, not exactly a chef’s dream, but it’s where I’ve cooked hundreds of meals. My fridge is always stocked, and there’s usually a surplus of leftovers. I often swing by my neighbor Ruth’s place with a warm dish in hand. Ruth, who is in her 80s, always greets me with gratitude, but to me, it’s not a big deal. It’s just food, and I have enough to share.
On this particular day, I showed up at her door with a steaming bowl of soup. I knocked several times, but Ruth didn’t answer. After a few moments, I heard faint, slow footsteps approaching. When she finally opened the door, her face was red, her breathing labored, and she was wearing a mask and robe.
“Honey, don’t get closer! I have COVID!” she said weakly but firmly.
For the next few days, I made it a point to bring her warm meals, vegetable soups, curries, roasted potatoes, or whatever I was eating that day. I’d leave the containers at her door, knock, and step back to make sure she got them. By the end of the week, Ruth was looking much better. Her cheeks regained their color, and her energy returned. One day, as I handed her another meal, she looked up at the sky and said, “God bless you!”
Cooking for others has been part of my life for years. If someone is sick, I instinctively show up with soup. It’s second nature to me. My mother was the same way, always cooking extra, always sharing. My aunts and grandmother were no different. But Ruth made me pause and reflect. This cultural upbringing of mine, this habit of feeding others, has brought so much depth to my life. It’s not really about the soup. It’s about being attuned to my surroundings, about care and connection.
I believe most of us have this instinct, to some degree. I’ve met incredibly generous friends who would do the same for me if I were in need. I believe being around giving people can inspire you to become one. Generosity ripples outward, touching lives in ways we often don’t expect. However, our busy lives make it hard to pause and connect. We’re caught in the grind, rushing through days that feel too short. I’ve lived this way for as long as I can remember. But it wasn’t until I faced deep, personal loss that I truly understood the value of a single moment. We’ve lost our sense of connectedness, to ourselves and the world around us.
My life is as hectic as anyone’s. Between my demanding job as a chef, raising two kids on my own, and cramming late into the night for school, there’s barely a moment to breathe. Time for myself feels like an impossible luxury. For years, I accepted this as my unchangeable reality. But one day, I stopped and asked myself “If this is what living is, checking all the boxes, why do I feel so anxious, overwhelmed, and stuck in a routine that feels mediocre?” Something had to change.
So I prioritized self-care, but not just for myself. I leaned into serving others. Ruth became one of the first consistent recipients of this shift. As I worked on becoming more aware, I realized that the smallest acts of generosity often bring the most meaning. I started holding doors open for neighbors, helping strangers carry groceries, walking people to their cars in the rain, doing a little extra for my clients, and beginning each morning with a prayer of gratitude. These small, intentional acts became the rhythm of my day, and slowly, life began to transform.
“I will bring soup” is more than a promise to share a meal. It’s an extension of gratitude, a reminder of the bigger purpose we all carry within us. It’s about finding wholeness, not through grand gestures, but through the quiet, powerful ways we show up for others and for ourselves.
By Udenie Wickramasinghe – Miami, Florida
