Where it began.
Meet Luke.
Luke loved conversation. He was able to talk to anyone, of any age, of any gender, race or nationality, of any profession, or any education level. He sought deep conversations.
“Talk to a stranger every day,” he would say—and try. The more different the better. He had a glow that illuminated any room. Because he was interested in you. All of you.
Luke’s ability to see the light inside everyone defined who he was and how he lived in the world.
His friend Nick remembered at Luke’s memorial service: “Luke saw me at my best, and he saw me at my worst. But to Luke I was always at my best.” THAT was Luke.
That wit, that spark is not extinguished. It’s our responsibility to shine a little brighter now. “Dream Big, Do Bigger” was his motto. What 19 year old even has a motto? He did.
Help us do bigger by sending solar lights to kids who live in darkness after sunset. In Luke’s honor. So that children can laugh, study, play and thrive with lamps that light up their hut and do not poison them with the fumes of kerosene.
“There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.”
— Edith Wharton
Few of us can imagine a person who did both: shine from within and refract every one else's best. Luke did. In fact, we believe he still does.
In every story told about him, in every stone heart on an adventure, or rock stack erected with 19 rocks, in every instance someone he loves says YES instead of no…every time someone he knew remembers him, there is Luke shining and warming and loving. Incandescent.
Luke spent time in Kenya, so we couldn't think of a more perfect tribute than to bring Luke's light into dark, smoky, dung huts currently lit by kerosene. It shows us the way out of a sadness and darkness of heart we feared could overwhelm us. The Luke's Lights movement is a sweet star and sunlit path towards healing.
We lost Luke on the cusp of adulthood, with the impish traits of a boy and the big plans of a man. The loss of his deep voice in our lives, his throaty laugh, his lanky hugs is viscerally raw to us. But the loss of his potential is so gargantuan it does not compute. And then this "Luke's Lights" movement took shape. An act of generosity and shared humanity that reached out to our family (and Luke) at a time of terrible tragedy. A prism is only glass until light catches it. The more light hits it, the more colors are revealed, the more rainbows reflected. This quest feels like a prism to us. It gives light. Magical, healing, life-affirming light. To our family. And to those whose own families live in darkness.
Ti Luc. Little Light.
The children in this video, in a remote village—Carisade, in Haiti—had never before seen light created with an on-off switch.
Would you believe "Ti Luc" means "Little Light" in Creole? When we bring these little lights, and we hear a crowd chant "Ti Luc, Ti Luc, Ti Luc" it's as if they are singing Luke's name. Moments so big a heart can barely hold them.
