A Turning Point

Grief has been showing up like fog lately—quiet, creeping, settling into the spaces between thoughts. I feel it when I scroll through social media, when I pass strangers in the grocery store, when the silence of the world feels louder than it should. There’s sorrow for lives lost, heartbreak over the violence we can’t seem to escape, and worry for the ways we’ve forgotten how to speak to one another.

It feels like we’re standing in a shadowed chapter of our history. But maybe shadows only remind us how much we need the light. When we stop talking, we stop growing. And even when we don’t agree, we can still reach for compassion. We have to.

I sense a shift—both around me and inside me. I’ve been turning back to God, remembering that comfort and direction don’t have to be earned; they’ve always been there. I think others feel it too. Where numbness used to spread, I notice sparks: a desire to care again, to fight for kindness, to remember that love was never meant to be rationed.

Maybe this is our moment. The chance to wake up to each other again. The chance to choose tenderness in a world that keeps asking us to harden.