The day began with a plan.
It was my birthday, and I wasn’t about to let bitter cold talk me out of my passion. Cameras in hand, I headed to Galilee to photograph the fishing fleet—boats locked in ice, winter holding court along the docks. I expected cold steel, frozen ropes, and hard work. What I didn’t expect was to be warmed from the inside out.
It was cold. The kind of cold that stings your face and stiffens your fingers. As I walked the docks, one vessel stopped me in my tracks—the Karen Elizabeth. A big western-rigged trawler, built for serious work. Three things drew me in immediately.
First, her official number: 663444. If you know anything about my wife Trish—and her relationship with the number four—you’ll understand why I smiled. Some things follow you everywhere.
Second, despite the freezing temperatures, Alan Booth was on deck, power-washing gear as if winter were merely a suggestion. No complaints. No drama. Just work that needed doing. It was 9℉!
And third, the scene itself: frozen rails, snow-covered decks, and a working boat standing defiant against the cold. It was exactly the story I hoped to tell with my camera.
As I continued down the dock, another story unfolded.
Two women were setting up a table behind their SUV. When I passed again, steam was rising from containers of hot soup. They weren’t selling it. They were giving it away. One of them walked the docks, delivering soup directly to crews working on their boats. Alan appeared again, this time carrying a box—collecting soup for his crew.
Curious, I stopped to read their sign:
“Soup for the Docks”
Crafted and delivered by
Galilee Mission, Inc.
Chapel of St. John the Divine
Church of the Ascension
The Woman’s Club of South County
The soup alone would have been enough. But what they were really offering was something deeper—care, conversation, eye contact, and a moment of human connection in the middle of a brutally cold workday. They provided warmth, yes—but also dignity, friendship, and presence.
That’s stewardship in its purest form.
As I drove away, they waved. And in that simple gesture was a powerful reminder: there are people who choose not to be consumed by noise, division, or fear. People who ignore the chaos and instead quietly, deliberately blaze a path of fellowship, understanding, and compassion.
On that dock, there was no “us” and “them.”
There was only we.
Our nature is good.
The times are fragile.
And sometimes, all it takes to change the temperature of the world is a ladle of soup and an open heart.
Bravo, ladies.
Bravo.
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