1. This past week was more than I could take.
  2. So I hid.
  3. Everything I felt to say about the tragedy and pain felt unequal to my rage and fear and sadness and helplessness.
  4. So I said nothing.
  5. I hid.
  6. I cried.
  7. I tried to explain things to my 8-year-old son.
  8. He is white.
  9. His best friend is black.
  10. On hearing the truth that black people are often mistrusted and treated badly just because they are black, he shook his fist and cried, "Stupid white people!!!"
  11. I get that this is privilege. He is 8 and is learning about a circumstance, not being trained to survive a circumstance.
  12. It is hard to make sense of it.
  13. And I couldn't make sense of my friends on social media trying to make sense of it.
  14. So I hid.
  15. I didn't say anything about it because what can I say that will change anything or mean anything?!?
  16. I hugged my kids.
  17. I hugged my husband.
  18. I talked to God about hiding.
  19. I admitted that I felt numb and cried a lot.
  20. I admitted that I really, really miss my little dog.
    This feels silly in the midst of such turmoil, but it's true.
  21. I admitted that I feel completely powerless to fix anything.
  22. The ways I can contribute are small.
  23. But my life is small.
  24. Small, but meaningful.
  25. Small acts of kindness seem blindingly bright in the midst of such darkness.
  26. That is what will change things anyways.
  27. Small things.
  28. Kind things.
  29. Imperceptible things.
  30. The darkness looms larger...
  31. But the tiny pinpricks of light in acts of kindness and solidarity and friendship will drive it out.
  32. Especially when there are lots of them.
  33. Light drives out darkness.
  34. Love drives out hate.
  35. I believe that.
  36. I have to.