I first met Kuol Dut eight years ago - before joining CNN - during my 15 years as a newspaper reporter and editor.

It was my job then to write about immigrants and refugees, and I covered the U.S. government’s resettlement of 3,800 “lost boys” of Sudan in the United States. I did that mainly by following Kuol and three others for their first few months in metro Atlanta, Georgia. They had grown up without mothers or fathers in the midst of an awful war and came to the United States with very little knowledge of the modern world.

My work for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution grew into a book that is called, cleverly enough, "The Lost Boys of Sudan." It follows the four young men from southern Sudan from the moment their airplane landed in Atlanta for their first few years in the United States.

They tolerated a reporter’s presence and my nagging questions as they felt the heat of an electric stove for the first time, learned to drive and went on job interviews. They also gave me a front-row seat to their quest for what they wanted more than anything – an education. And they gave me a glimpse of how tough it is for vulnerable newcomers to achieve the American Dream.

I learned quite a bit while writing the book. I learned about the complexities of the war in Sudan, which one historian refers to insightfully as a series of multiple and recurring wars. I came to know quite a bit about the history of Sudan, from its pre-colonial days through the rise of militant Islam. And I learned that the U.S. typically has administered its refugee-resettlement program with foreign-policy priorities in mind.

Yet the most lingering lessons, for me, involve the power of the human spirit to trudge on, to keep going despite poverty and despair and disease and death. Former U.S. President Jimmy Carter may have put it best in a blurb for my book, when he wrote that the story “speaks to the strength of the human spirit to survive and grow under even the most abject circumstances.”

Writing the news stories and book also reminded me of how generous complete strangers can be – and how that generosity can pay dividends for them. Some of the most inspiring people I met during my time writing about the “lost boys” were the many ordinary Americans who were moved to give their time to help welcome the strangers. They were women mostly, who volunteered with refugee-resettlement agencies to help the “lost boys” navigate a confusing new world. Many also had helped refugees from Kosovo, Vietnam and other parts of the world. These volunteers helped the young men get to work, understand auto insurance and make doctor’s appointments. They donated clothes and furniture, gave rides here and there, and helped the young men pursue their education in the United States.

Their example prompted me to follow suit, albeit in a much more modest way. The Atlanta office of the International Rescue Committee, a nonprofit refugee-resettlement agency, worked with me to set up a fund that received a share of my meager book royalties. It also accepted contributions from the public. We gave small grants to help Sudanese refugees pay costs associated with school and work. In addition, I donated part of the book proceeds to Jubilee Partners, a Christian community in the woods of northeastern Georgia that has helped welcome thousands of refugees of all faiths and nationalities.

These were small steps, really, but I found that taking them gave me a sense of satisfaction. It might not have made a huge difference in the long run, and it paled in comparison to the difference that so many American volunteers made, but at least I was able to do what little I could, in addition to helping call attention to the bleak circumstances in far-off Sudan, and that made me feel as if I had made the right choice.

Now a few years have passed since I met Kuol Dut – say it “Quall Dut” – and several other “lost boys of Sudan.” The book has come and gone for me. The days of speaking about it and thinking about it have faded into memory. I left the newspaper to join the CNN Wire, a wire service that conveys CNN reporting on the top and most compelling national and international news stories. As for the young men about whom I wrote, their lives have gone on, as well, of course, with the same share of triumphs and disappointment that we all experience. We talk every so often. Next month, I plan to go to graduation ceremonies at Georgia State University to see one of them receive a bachelor’s degree in economics.

And Kuol and I had just spent some time together the other day when a CNN colleague called to ask whether I’d write something about young people who endure war, but for the most part we live separate lives. It was a pleasure to write about Kuol again (he’s looking for a job, by the way, if you happen to know of something….). It reminded me of all that so many of us who have never battled starvation and death take for granted. It gave me hope, even if only a glimmer of hope, for so many people who find themselves today in abject circumstances.

And it reminded me of one of the powerful lessons of all. Getting to know these young men from southern Sudan reminded me that all people, despite differences of race, ethnicity, religion, language and so on, tend to have more in common than that divides us. We all can experience universal emotions and impulses, including the pull of family, the yearning to survive and the desire to transcend hardship to improve, to at least try to grasp and claw our way toward the promise of a better life, no matter the odds.