A Dance of Kindness

Where clarity, courage, and compassion meet.

Hello from my little writer’s cave.

It feels like just about everyone I know is holding heaviness of some form. The kind of swollen humid air mass churning into dark cumulonimbus clouds, billowing and building in the distance until they let unleash their tears upon the earth.

Sky tears feel fitting these days. If that’s you too, you are not alone. If that’s not you, gosh, thank you for being a kind grace giver who seeks to understand.

It’s July in Florida. Which means you can slice the humidity, garnish it, and serve it on a plate as an overpriced appetizer. The temperature is always 20° hotter than it says it is. I’m convinced we live in a crock pot about this time of year.

I’m in the middle of overthinking my 27th reorganization of Chapter 1 of my book proposal, and my brain feels like it is trying to juggle multiple realities at once.

I’m writing a book about wonder. They are building a concentration camp 20 miles from me that is part of disappearing people off the streets. And nope. That is not hyperbole. It’s just the literal definition of what it is happening.

This isn’t about policy. It’s about power and cruelty. I will always stand with the least and the last. My faith compels nothing less and allows for nothing else. I didn’t live 7 years in a conflict zone in Sudan to be quiet here.

I know I risk losing some of you by even mentioning these things. So let’s rip that band-aid off. I will be mentioning my lived experience when applicable to do so… because wonder only happens in the middle of our lived experiences.

But here’s what’s not happening.

I’m not here to give you breaking news (deep sighs of relief, I have those notices on silent too).

I’m here to share things that can help the breaking news not break us apart.

You are not ever going to read a policy breakdown of H.R. 1 2025-2026 here. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t read considerable parts of it for myself and dug deep into the research from subject-matter experts, who are not incentivized by clicks and views.

My world will be turned upside down, and it likely means I won’t have access to medical insurance or anywhere near the level of care some of my chronic illnesses need until I can move north. However, I at least have a world to turn upside down.

There are things happening that are dehumanizing. Policy differences are part of democracy. Joking about feeding human beings to alligators is not. I will not be silent about the things that reduce our humanity. Because I KNOW we can live out and tell ourselves a better story.

We have to, beloved. We have to.

I truly believe we are building one of the kindest corners on the internet. Right here. You and me and about 10K of us. Brené Brown says it so simply, “Clear is kind. Unclear is unkind.”

So here’s me being clear. This space is not a US Politics space. We aren’t breaking down historical parallels or diving into supreme court decisions. (If you like that kind of thing, Heather Cox Richardson and Sharon McMahon are some of my trusted go-to’s.)

We are living in such a weird dynamic where everything is connected and divided at the same time, and brimming with political implications.

So, me writing authentically from my journey, you will likely be able to tell where I stand on some things.

You are welcome here, even if you see things differently. Kindness isn’t conformity. It’s the hard, courageous work where clarity and compassion meet and learn to dance together.

You will also never hear me dehumanize people who disagree with me. It’s remarkably easy to let the vernacular of our social media echo chambers change the way we view and speak about one another.

There are names and knives being slung online and in person from many corners of the political landscape right now, and it leaves the whole world bleeding and blind.

We have to do better. The fear and the outrage are real, and often, a completely healthy, understandable response. But, these emotions are also tools used to manipulate and control. They are weaponized to harness our attention and lock us into opposing narratives.

But that manipulation loses its power in great degree when we simply say, “Yeah, nah, I’ll pass and keep loving my neighbor. Even at risk to myself.”

It’s a hard road. It is not the easy way. It requires a reckoning within ourselves and tenderness towards each other. I get it wrong 100 ways by 10 am on Tuesday most weeks.

(And there are circumstances when this will not work. I am not speaking about accepting cruelty or abuse.)

But I believe in us. In what we are building and can build together. The story is still unwritten, and we get ink its pages. Every single day. Every small kindness and tiny moment of beauty.

I’m reserving most of my writing about these things for a newly re-dedicated side Substack, The Red Letter Diaries. It is and will remain free to read. I expect to use it to share my more overtly justice oriented content, as well as, chronicle the real-world impacts of loving my neighbor, and the journey to settle in an area where I have better medical access. It is at times a smidge saucy and way more opinionated than here, FYI. 😉 ⬇️

Red is the color of...

I bring all this up because I want you to know what to expect. In a world where expectations feel like they are being yanked around every 2 minutes, I want us to have a place that feels safe… because it is safe.

Wonder doesn’t happen in or magically transport us to a fluffy fairyland. It happens in the here and the hard, right in the complicated, messy middle of wherever we are.

Wonder is not about escape from. It is about a way through.

And I can’t wait to keep writing about courage and beauty, the small moments that are actually huge and creating space and tools for all of us to feel less alone and make wonder a habit.

The next post in the Art of Noticing series is dropping tomorrow. Now back to Chapter 1 and my writing cave.

You are so loved,

PS. In under 10 days, our paid tier is getting the best upgrade we’ve had since we started. 🎉 It is also a vital way, if you can, to support the work I do here. I can’t wait to tell you more about Prompt & Ponder, our paid creative community.