The power of community in our most fragile moments

This month reminded me that community is not defined by geography, but by heart.

Images: Private

Text: Lyndsay Jensen

This editor’s note has been one of the hardest I’ve ever had to write - not because I’m short on words, but because the emotions behind them are still so raw.

This month, instead of sitting at my desk fine-tuning articles, reaching out to contributors, or designing, my husband and I found ourselves sitting beside our 21-year-old son in a hospital room - watching, waiting, praying and focusing on nothing else but him.

Bjørn, whom many of you were meant to meet in this issue as we highlight World Cerebral Palsy Month, was admitted to the hospital after developing pneumonia. What began as a respiratory complication turned into something far more serious when he contracted a multi-resistant hospital bacteria during his stay.

For 24 long days, he fought hard - supported by a medical team and treated with seven different antibiotics - until, finally, he was strong enough to fight back. I’m relieved and deeply grateful to share that he’s now home, healing, and recovering.

When life changes course

October is Cerebral Palsy Awareness Month, and this was meant to be Bjørn’s turn to share his story through me, as he is non-verbal. As an international family who moved from South Africa to Denmark for better healthcare and support, this month always carried special meaning for us.

But life, as it often does, had other plans.

When your child is in crisis, everything else fades. My mind went into survival mode - every thought and ounce of energy centred on Bjørn. And while I couldn’t be present for this issue as I had planned, something beautiful happened: my other family stepped in.

The power of community

Being an international means more than just living in a new country. It means leaving behind familiar support systems - extended family, childhood friends, and cultural anchors - and building new ones from the ground up.

It’s in these moments of uncertainty that the true value of community becomes clear.

Community is not about proximity; it’s about connection, shared experience, and mutual care. It’s the safety net that catches you when life becomes overwhelming and sticky - it's about the people who show up when you need them most, often without being asked.

For internationals, these chosen families - friends, colleagues, and neighbours become the steady hands that hold us through change.

For me, that community was my team at The International - you stepped up. From our incredible Deputy Editor, Ophelia, who took the reins with compassion and professionalism, and Jess, whose dedication ensured every story reached you, and Carolyn, who set up our digital communication, and the rest of the team, who offered support. They didn’t just produce an issue - they carried me and my family when we couldn’t carry ourselves.

A heartfelt thank you

To our readers: thank you for your patience. This issue was released later than planned. There’s no feature story and no downloadable version - and for that, I sincerely apologise.

But the heart of the issue remains - in every article, every voice, and every ounce of care poured in by the team when I couldn’t be there.

We’re already back on track: our November issue will return in print, in partnership with Last Week in Denmark.

Raising awareness

As part of Cerebral Palsy Awareness Month, here are some facts that deserve attention:

• Around 8,000–10,000 people in Denmark live with cerebral palsy.

• Each year, 110–130 children are born with CP, approximately 1–2 per 1,000 live births.

• It’s the most common motor disability in childhood, often affecting mobility, speech, vision, and sensory processing.

Moving from South Africa to Denmark was never an easy choice. We even considered the UK, where I’m a citizen, but Denmark offered the best long-term care and support for Bjørn. We came here for his future.

This past month has tested every part of us, but it also reaffirmed one truth: we are not alone.

To every family finding its way To every international parent, newcomer, or family who’s had to make impossible choices for the sake of their family - I see you.

And to our community, friends, neighbours, colleagues, and the entire team at The International - thank you. Thank you for stepping in without hesitation, for showing us what true community looks like.

This issue is dedicated to Bjørn - and to every child and family learning to fight, adapt, and heal.

And to every reader walking your own difficult path: don’t be afraid to ask for help. You may be far from where you started, but you are never alone.

With all my heart,

Lyndsay Jensen

Editor-in-Chief & Founder