For nearly two decades, I have lived in a village in Western Kenya and worked as a hospice nurse caring for seriously ill adults and children. Each day, I see a combination of beauty and brokenness aplenty within my neighborhood. I walk dirt paths where my footprints blend with those of barefooted children. I ask myself a question that so often serves as a guide when I’m unsure of how to respond to the needs around or within me: What does it look like to love in this situation? I sit alongside joy and pain and witness God’s nearness to the brokenhearted, including my own.