Two years ago I had the privilege of meeting a woman and her two young daughters who had just arrived in the U.S. from Afghanistan.

Their story is one of courage and survival. They fled their home with little more than the clothes on their backs, leaving behind a life shattered by war. The girls, barely in their teens, had witnessed their uncles killed before their very eyes—a trauma that no child should ever endure.

Their journey to safety was long, arduous, and filled with unimaginable challenges.

When they came into my life, they weren't looking for food or shelter—they sought something much more personal, something deeply connected to their sense of identity.

The mom wanted a lipstick. This simple request was about more than just makeup; it was a way for her to reclaim a part of herself, to "look" like the person she once was before everything was taken from her.

This dear mother, a woman who had been through so much, was distressed about her greying hair. She no longer had the means to maintain it, and in her eyes, it was a reminder of all she had lost.

She confided in me, expressing a deep desire to feel like herself again. I could see the pain in her eyes, the longing to hold on to the woman she was before the violence, before the displacement.

In that moment, I understood the profound impact of small comforts. If I were in her position—having lost everything and feeling utterly devastated—I too would yearn for something familiar, something that made me feel like myself again.

A simple lipstick or the chance to have my hair done would be a lifeline, a connection to the person I once was.

We found her a lipstick and I was able to point her to someone who could color her hair in privacy, honoring her need for modesty as a Muslim woman.

The transformation that followed was nothing short of incredible. It wasn’t just about the color on her lips or the absence of grey in her hair—it was about reclaiming a piece of her identity.

It was about feeling seen, cared for, and remembered. The smiles of both the mom and daughters were radiant, a small but powerful light in a world that had been turned upside down.

This experience made me realize the importance of these small acts of kindness.

Now, imagine being able to give that same gift to women facing similar circumstances.

Women who have fled their homes, who have traveled thousands of miles seeking safety for themselves and their children.

Women who have lost everything, but still hold on to the hope of looking in the mirror and seeing the person they once were.

At the end of September, a group of compassionate women will be traveling to Lesvos, Greece, to serve these brave souls.

While we may not all be able to go, we have the opportunity to partner with them in a unique way. We can give a simple but powerful gift—a gift of beauty, a gift of hope.

I’ve created a short video that shares more about this project and how you can be a part of it. It’s a quick watch, but its message is powerful. It shows how something as small as a lip balm can make a world of difference in the lives of these women.

👉 Click here to watch the video and discover how you can give the gift of beauty to women who need it most.

Together, let’s make a difference.