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hands

My words ran out. 


They’ve been dwindling for the last few months; a slow and steady leak, slipping through my fingers like sand. And then, just like that, they were gone. Hands empty, nothing left to offer. 


We ran off to the desert a few weeks ago. No people, no service, no contact with the outside world--our only connection was soul to sun drenched earth. We soaked up the magic only the desert can offer, and after slogging through canyons and rivers and emptying the sand out of our shoes, we were renewed. Ready to go back to our new normal. 


But everything had changed again when we entered back into life. The world hurting, tearful voices crying for help, our brothers and sisters in need of change. 


I looked at my hands, empty, not knowing what to say. 


So we started simple. A conversation--our family of four--as the road stretched out ahead of us, twists and turns illuminated by our headlights and a mostly full moon. We had nothing to do but talk. 


The WHAT’S, the WHY’S, the HOW IS THIS HAPPENINGS. The truth, even the hard parts--don’t sugar up the stories you tell your kids, they are much too smart for that. The admitting that we don’t have answers. The desire to help. The unknown. Our own blindness. We talked about it all.


Lucy said, “but mom, WHO WILL FIX THIS?!”


The car was quiet, the hum of the road in my ears. I looked at my hands for answers.


EVERY SINGLE ONE OF US. That’s who will fix this. 


It’s not up to one person, an organization, or lists and rules and boxes to check. It’s up to every single one of US to decide that right now, today, we will do better. BE better. ACT. It’s our responsibility as humans to step up. Learn. Understand. Listen. Accept that we are not excused, and cannot sit this one out. 


My hands still feel inadequate. I have so much information to gather and hold, and I’m eager to plant myself and grow. At this moment, I don’t know what I have to offer, but I am still going to try.


This is where I will start, and I hope you will do the same. Hands empty, but looking for others’ to hold. Let’s put in the work, together.



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