The ripening Winesap had a beautiful pinkish cast to its skin, a shine that promised good eating—and a long-legged, fierce-looking insect clinging to it. An assassin bug that could inflict a nasty, painful bite.

We were absolutely thrilled.

This year Jeff and I have sworn off using chemical sprays at our five-acre orchard in the Virginia mountains. We’ve been moving in this direction for several years but until now hadn’t gotten up the nerve to go completely chemical free.

Finding assassin bugs all over our apples made us whoop with joy—literally. These lanky, scary-looking creatures eat Japanese beetles, which last year caused serious damage to our trees.

I am teaching a little boy to read.

That is, I am hoping to teach a little boy to read.

The first sentence expresses what I envisioned when I signed up last spring to work as a volunteer tutor with young Latino students.

The second reflects reality.

Does forgiveness have a place when it comes to serving convicted criminals?

For that matter, do criminals deserve to be served in any way?

I ask because recently I rediscovered a subject I started to explore a year or so ago but put aside. It began as part of my inquiry into whether it’s possible to fight injustice with an open, loving heart. To me, this is one of the most intriguing questions facing those of us who want to make the world a more equitable place. I’m on the lookout for people who are working to oppose injustice without bitterness or anger—a truly difficult task—and I’ve found a few, though they’re rare. I write about this at length in my forthcoming book about selfless service.

Last week I had an incredible adventure, marked with a few moments of—well, “terror” is probably too strong a word. But it’s fair to say that I was well out of my comfort zone and nose-to-nose with my own mortality.

In the process I learned something vital about my efforts to help others.

Sometimes being right is exactly the wrong thing.

Since my dad’s death in November, I’ve kept in close touch with my mother. My parents were married for 64 years, and one of the most significant things I can do for Mom is to give her steady emotional support.

A few evenings ago I failed in that respect.