My wife and I just got back from a 20-day trip to Italy and Spain.

Sounds romantic, right? Wine, sunsets, pasta, all that jazz. But it wasn’t a vacation—it was a homecoming. Not for us, technically, but for the international students who lived with us over the past 7 years.

Yeah, on top of raising six kids (yes, six), we decided to open our doors to even more. Insane? Possibly. But our logic was solid: we couldn’t afford to take our kids to see the world, so we brought the world to our home instead.

And now, after years of hallway hugs, cultural mishaps, and emotional airport goodbyes, we flew across the ocean to see them in their homes. Their countries. Their lives.

And what we experienced… was love.

Not the fluffy Instagram kind. Not the Valentine’s Day kind.

The real kind.

The kind that shatters distance. That ignores language barriers. That doesn’t give a shit what passport you carry. It was overwhelming, unexpected, and beautiful in a way that hit me right in the chest.

People welcomed us with open arms, warm food, tight hugs, and unapologetic emotion. We weren’t “guests”—we were family.

And that’s the thing: love doesn’t care about borders.

Look, I know this all sounds a bit “flower-covered VW van with pot smoke billowing out the windows,” but stay with me. I’ve been around. I’ve lived. I’ve been raised in a military family where we moved every 2–3 years. That’s a new school, new friends, and a fresh start every time just as puberty kicked you in the teeth.

You learn real fast: kindness works. Leading with love works.

You might not be the “bad boy” everyone crushes on in high school (I skipped that phase and went straight into being an overthinking dad with weird snacks), but you do make connections. You build trust. You create spaces where people feel seen.

And in this shrinking world—this constantly refreshing, relentlessly online, divided-yet-hyperconnected mess we live in—that matters. A lot.

We spend so much energy putting up fences: emotional, political, national, personal. But I’m telling you: the moment you crack the door open and let love lead, everything changes. You make a new friend. You gain a new family member. You build a bridge.

We’re not here forever. We’re just schlepping around on this blue rock for a while, trying to figure out what matters.

And here’s what I’ve learned:

The most radical thing you can do? Be kind. Be open. Be honest. Invite someone in. Into your home. Your heart. Your story.

Love without borders. That’s how we change the world.