What Bastille Day Reminded Me About Loving People Well

A balcony, a city catching fire with color, and a prayer.

Hey you, it's me.

I'm sitting on my balcony, and any minute now the sky over Paris is going to catch fire with color.

France is celebrating tonight. Le 14 juillet, Bastille Day, their own day of freedom, and I have a front-row seat without ever leaving my room. I can hear the city gathering below me. A whole country leaning toward joy.

And waiting here for that first burst of light, something tugged at my heart.

I'm watching an entire nation celebrate what makes it itself. Its history. Its people. Its differences. Out loud, and unafraid.

And I thought about home.

Over the past few weeks, I've stood in different countries, heard languages I couldn't speak, looked into faces nothing like my own, and found the same heart beating underneath every single time.

We all love someone.
We all miss someone.
We all carry something.
We all have a story.

Somewhere along the way, I know there have been seasons when I've forgotten how to slow down enough to truly see people. Maybe you've had those seasons too. We get quicker to divide than to understand, quicker to argue than to listen, quicker to point out what makes us different than to celebrate that we're different at all.

I'm not pointing fingers. I've been worn down and quick to judge too. We all have. But I keep coming back to something simple. What happened to kindness? To compassion? To just being gentle with one another?

There's an old saying. You catch more bees with honey than vinegar. And it's true. Softness moves people in a way sharp edges never will.

Because underneath it all, I think we're all looking for the same things. Less chaos. Less drama. A little more kindness. A little more healing. We are all just trying to survive and heal in real time, doing the best we can with what we've been handed.

What we do with that story is the difference.

We can let it make us hard. Or we can let it make us kind.

So tonight, as the fireworks light up over Paris, this is what I'm praying. That we would choose the gentle thing. That we would celebrate each other instead of fearing each other. That love would get the last word.

So let me leave you with this.

Who in your life could use a little more of your kindness this week, even the ones who are hard to love?

Maybe today is your invitation to pause. And to lead with love.

Before we watch the fireworks, can I pray over us?

Father, thank you for this beautiful, aching, healing world you made. Would you give us peace, the kind that quiets the heart when everything around us feels loud. Would you give us happiness, the simple joy of a life noticed and savored. And would you open our hearts, so we lead with love instead of fear, and kindness instead of judgment. Help us be gentle. Help us truly see one another. Help us remember we are all your children, all just trying to find our way home. In your name, amen.

"If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone." — Romans 12:18

I'd love to pray for you. If there's something on your heart, send me your prayer request. It would be an honor to pray alongside you.

I'm waiting on your note~

Send me your prayer request. Or tell me who in your life could use a little more of your kindness this week. It would be an honor to pray alongside you.

Send Jenn a Prayer Request ↓

I love you.

Just stay sweet out there, until my next postcard.

Sharing love from Paris,

~ Jenn

P.S. If you're enjoying these postcards, come join me on Instagram, @justjennboard.

Write Jenn a Note Back

She reads every one.

← Back to Just Jelly Unfiltered