Tọlá Belva

Last night, I had a pensive moment—somewhere between slightly moody and reflective. Nothing interested me, not even my usual nighttime routines: journaling, watching TV shows, or sitting on my front porch, observing the moon, the stars, and the slow drift of the clouds. I just sat in the silence of my room.

Eventually, I found a little comfort while scrolling through the X app, leaving comments on random tweets: funny ones, nostalgic ones, even a few odd takes. Then I stumbled upon a tweet about Monowi, Nebraska, and it sparked something gentle inside me. Elsie Eiler is the town’s only resident. She’s the mayor, the librarian, and the woman who runs the tavern with quiet grace.

I ended up watching YouTube videos about her, and something about her presence—so steady, so kind—made me feel lighter. It was touching to see how she keeps her late husband Rudy’s memory alive through the Monowi Library, a space named in his honor. As a book lover, I found it moving. The library is filled with over 5,000 books he once loved, and it was beautiful to witness how she preserved them.

Lesson: Sometimes, the encouragement we need doesn’t come from within but from witnessing the gentle strength of someone else. Elsie’s story reminded me that you don’t have to be surrounded by noise to make an impact. Love can be preserved in the small faithful things by showing up, honoring memories, and gently tending to the spaces that still hold meaning.

It’s easy to believe inspiration must arrive in big powerful waves. But often, it appears softly in someone’s daily life, in their calm presence, in the way they simply remain steady and true. And when you’re in a moment where nothing makes sense, it’s those subtle stories of grace that remind you: you’re not alone, and you don’t have to rush to feel okay again. Sometimes, healing lives in the ordinary, waiting to be seen.