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 The story of Anne Frank has inspired generations—from her powerful belief that “people are really good at heart” to the bravery of Miep Gies, who risked her life to hide Anne’s family and later preserved her diary. That this took place in the Netherlands, where others also chose courage over fear, fills my heart with hope.

Corrie ten Boom was born in 1892 in Haarlem, the Netherlands, into a family of devoted Calvinist watchmakers. She delighted in both the craft and the business, but more importantly, the ten Booms believed deeply in helping others, especially the Jewish people, whom they saw as God’s chosen.

As the Nazis invaded and began rounding up Jews, Corrie and her family opened their home, joining the Dutch resistance. With the help of an architect, they built a hidden room behind a wall in Corrie’s bedroom, complete with a warning buzzer to alert those in hiding. The ten Booms took in as many as they could.

Eventually, they were betrayed. The Gestapo raided the home. Though the Jews hiding there escaped detection thanks to the secret room, Corrie and her family were arrested. Her father died soon after, and Corrie, along with her sister Betsie, was sent to Ravensbrück concentration camp. Incredibly, they managed to smuggle in a Bible and held secret worship services, offering faith and hope to fellow prisoners. Betsie later died in the camp.

Corrie was unexpectedly released—later discovering it was due to a clerical error. Days later, all the women in her group were sent to the gas chambers. She returned to the Netherlands during the brutal "Hunger Winter" and opened her home to people with disabilities, protecting them from Nazi extermination efforts.

After the war, she founded a rehabilitation center for survivors and traveled the world sharing her story of forgiveness and faith. Her books, Tramp for the Lord and The Hiding Place, chronicle her extraordinary life. Perhaps most astonishing of all, she once forgave one of the cruel guards from Ravensbrück—embodying the compassion and strength she lived by.

Thank you, Corrie ten Boom.

I have long marveled at the courage of the Polish resistance during WWII. Poland, tragically sandwiched between Germany and Russia, was quickly overrun by both. Despite the overwhelming force against them, many Poles resisted bravely. One such resistor was Irena Sendler.

I was surprised to learn that antisemitism was present in Poland even before the war, partly due to the influx of Jewish refugees fleeing Russian persecution. Irena’s father, a compassionate doctor, treated all patients—including Jews—for free. He ultimately died of typhus contracted from one of them. The Jewish community offered to support Irena and her mother financially, but they declined.

As a university student, Irena protested the segregation of Jewish classmates and defaced the “non-Jewish” label on her report card. Her activism started early and only deepened with time. She became a social worker, focusing on helping mothers and children.

When the Nazis occupied Poland and the persecution of Jews intensified, Irena fought back quietly. After her Jewish colleagues were removed from her department, she began forging documents for Jews in need. Because of her role in social work, she was allowed to enter the Warsaw Ghetto under the pretense of disease control. She smuggled in food and medicine—and smuggled out children and infants.

Together with other social workers, she helped form Żegota, a network dedicated to rescuing Jewish children and placing them in convents. Irena carefully recorded each child’s original and new identity, hoping to reunite them with family after the war. She buried them in glass jars underneath an apple tree. When the Gestapo caught wind of her efforts, Irena was arrested. Just before her capture, she managed to toss the records to a colleague who hid them in her clothing. They were never discovered.

Despite brutal interrogations, including breaking her legs, Irena revealed nothing. She was eventually sentenced to death, but fellow resistance members bribed her guards, and she escaped. Even after the war, under communist rule, she continued her work protecting children.

Irena Sendler faced unimaginable danger, yet never gave in to hatred. She lived to be 98.

Thank you, Irena.

As a longtime teacher of young children, the accounts of child deaths at the hands of the Nazis are almost unbearable. Who can forget the little girl in the red coat in Schindler’s List, or the smiling faces in photographs taken before the Holocaust—children dressed for school pictures, their innocence shining, unaware of what lay ahead? As a mother, the thought of being torn from my children is devastating. One story haunts me: during a mass execution, a woman held her baby aloft, cooing and smiling, trying to keep him from feeling fear—moments before they were gunned down and thrown into a pit.

So when I discovered the story of Jeanne Daman, a teacher who fought back and saved countless children, I felt a deep sense of gratitude.

Born in Belgium in 1918 into a Catholic family, Jeanne pursued teaching at a time when the Belgian constitution promised education for all children without discrimination. But as antisemitism rose and Nazi control tightened, that promise was stripped away, replaced by propaganda. In defiance, Jeanne went to work at Nos Petits Kindergarten, a school for Jewish children.

As deportations increased, she watched her classroom shrink. One day, the Gestapo arrived and claimed they were taking two children “to their parents.” Jeanne knew it was a lie, but she also knew that resisting would endanger the sixty other children in her care. She made the agonizing choice to let the two go—then closed the school to protect the rest.

Jeanne forged papers, placed children in Catholic orphanages, and hid them with sympathetic families. She kept meticulous records so survivors could be reunited after the war. She also secured forged identities for their parents—especially mothers—placing them in homes as maids. It is said she saved more than 2,000 children.

Her bravery didn’t stop there. With her blonde hair and blue eyes, Jeanne joined the Belgian resistance, gathering intelligence and helping capture several Gestapo agents.

Lately, my research has drawn me again and again to the plight of children—their brightness, their innocence. When I learned about Jeanne Daman, I whispered a thank you to whoever might be listening.

Thank you, teacher and protector of children, Jeanne Daman.