I just read about two young women — Silvana Garza Valdez and Maria Paula Zárate — and I can still feel the echo of their courage in my chest. Nineteen years old. Barely more than children themselves. And yet, in the heart of catastrophe, they became pillars. Protectors. Carriers of calm in a storm that took so much.
When the floods came to Camp Mystic — that place meant for laughter and summer joy — they didn’t panic. They led. They wrote the girls’ names on their arms, not out of fear, but out of fierce responsibility. A sacred act. A way of saying, “You matter. You will not be forgotten.” And through the night, they stayed — holding space, offering comfort, doing what so many in power often forget to do: they showed up with love.
It moves me deeply, because in this world that still builds walls and draws lines around who belongs and who doesn’t… these two young Mexican counselors reminded us of a truth older than any border: that spirit, that heart, that leadership — it knows no nationality. It speaks the language of humanity. Of kinship.
Some people want to argue about immigration, about who has the right to be here, to belong. But I look at Silvana and Maria Paula, and I see what our teachings have always known — the ones with the strongest hearts often come from the most overlooked places. They didn’t ask permission to be heroes. They just became them.
And so while many are grieving, and the floodwaters have taken more than we can measure… I hold on to this story. I lift it up like an offering. Because in their actions, I see the kind of world we are still capable of building — one where young women stand in the center, not the margins. One where care and courage are not bound by passports.
This is what solidarity looks like. This is what love looks like when it moves through floodwaters.
This is what it means to be human.
—Kanipawit Maskwa
John Gonzalez
Standing Bear Network
