six thousand voices, woven together across screens, and time zones

the world trembles… and i am comparing grocery prices in fluorescent lighting.

nothing offered in love is wasted… nothing given for justice is forgotten

but all i have right now… is my voice.

and i refuse to let it be polite.

i refuse to let it soften the truth.

2025 held so much goodness and so much pain. but isn’t that life?

as this year loosens its grip

may you look back without harshness

able to name what hurt

and also what healed

because it was in sleep

that I awoke to you gone

just like that

no one asks what you lose

to become acceptable.

nothing is loud here. nothing has a pulse. nothing is a full-body ache and a dull gray hum… that makes even breathing feel optional.

may you lay down the old jar… the one that carried everyone else’s expectations, the one that reminded you of scarcity. may you leave it at the well and run toward the life that’s been waiting.

the tide always returns, but never in the same shape… and maybe that’s the gift. the way it smooths the stones, the way it carves the coast, the way it leaves behind what’s ready to begin again.

i am done trading joy, for a seat at their table.

let the chairs break. i will build my own.

this is america the brutal. a land where bullets speak louder than ballots, where profit outweighs bodies, where the flag is just a shroud.

I carried my chaos here. We all did. And Montreat met me in it all.

we grieve the way fear is sold like a product

and bless this mountain. this sacred, battered, beautiful mountain. still healing from the storm

you are dust and breath. story and scar. glory and grit. named by the one who knew you before any of this began.

I can't ask people to stand up, let alone show up, for a country that continues to dismantle their rights and freedoms...

One thing I find happening pretty consistently is that the church has become antagonistic to people beyond the pews.

We have to do better for this next generation.