I'm tired of carrying the weight of every tragedy

Hey sweet friend,

Like you, and maybe most everyone else in the world, I've been feeling pretty down about what has happened in the last couple of weeks. Between the absolutely tragic killings of Iryna Zarutska and Charlie Kirk, I know I'm not the only one who feels the heaviness right now. It makes me want to completely disengage and pretend the world isn't quite so broken.

Maybe you've felt it too—that overwhelming sense of caring about things you can't fix, in places you can't reach, for people you'll never meet. It's exhausting.

It reminded me of something that happened when I moved to this little town in the Ozarks a few years ago. Back then, we had this tiny daily newspaper. Just a simple paper that covered things like school board meetings and church fundraisers and who was celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary.

I remember thinking how refreshing it was to read news I could actually do something about. If someone needed help after a storm, I could bring them a casserole. If the high school was doing a car wash fundraiser, I could drive over. The information felt... useful, I guess. Like it belonged to my real life instead of this abstract world I was supposed to care about but couldn't touch.

That little newspaper doesn't exist anymore, which makes me sad. But I've been thinking about what I learned from it. Actually, I wrote about this whole thing recently - about why our bodies weren't built to carry this much heartbreak, and how stepping back isn't selfish, it's necessary for staying sane. You can read it here if it resonates.

There's something peaceful about caring for what's right in front of you. Not because the rest of the world doesn't matter, but because there's only so much one heart can hold before it starts to break under the weight of it all.

I don't know what the answer is to all the heartbreak out there. But I do know that when I focus on the people I can actually hug, the neighbors I can actually help, the problems I can actually solve—something in me settles. Like I'm doing what I was actually designed to do.

And it's funny - I used to think that if I wasn't staying informed about every global crisis, I wasn't being a responsible person. But I'm realizing it's actually the opposite. When I focus on the kid in my neighborhood who needs a mentor, or when I pray for people I actually know who are struggling... that's how the big problems actually get solved. One person, one relationship at a time.

I can't fix what's happening to people I'll never meet, but I can show up for the ones right in front of me. And that matters more than I used to think it did.

I wanted you to know you're not alone if you're feeling the weight of it all. And if you need permission to focus on what's actually yours to tend—well, consider this your permission slip.

With love,
Laura

P.S. Sometimes I think the most courageous thing we can do is admit we're only human-sized in a world that feels infinite.