There are some days where it truly feels futile to write.
Who. Really. Cares. What. I. Have. To. Say.
We are living in a day and age where hyper-connectivity is the norm. We see all things. Hear all things. Breathe all things. In order to truly disconnect from it all, we either have to have an act of God rip apart our house (because we all know we can charge our phones in the car if the electricity goes out) or we need to vacation somewhere deep in the forest where no cell tower would ever be constructed.
Here’s the thing that gets me. I don’t want to live a disconnected life. Sure, it’s a nice change every now and again, and I will be the first to admit that I adore living in my Pollyanna bubble, but to live my entire life disconnected from the world and all it has to offer? No thanks.
This world is a complicated construct of good versus evil. There is also a wide range of in-between. I don’t have all the answers. Shoot, I barely have ANY answers! I’m just an average, suburban, working mom-of-three trying to somehow raise my little kiddos to be good, kind people in a world filled with mixed messages.
Today my social media news feeds were filled with anger. Angst. Abhorrent rebuke. I could feel myself getting sucked into the rancid riptide as people posted their perspectives on the violence across the world.
Terrorists. Politics. Guns and gangs. Black and white.
Their passionate views literally paralyzing my own.
Who really cares what I have to say?
These are the times when my writing stalls like a deserted wasteland. “Such a simple-minded girl,” echoes the whispered taunts in my brain. Who am I to think that my little random acts of kindness actually matter? That anyone would be inspired to change their actions because of a few paragraphs written about helping a stranger? Who would take time out of their hectic, hyper-connected world to reflect or reply to my stories? Why take the time to be kind to anyone at all? Does any of this really matter?
Oh, the paralysis of a passionate soul.
This morning I was reminded of my purpose as a blogger. In David Geurin’s post, Why Blogging Isn’t What You Think It Is, he illustrates that the size of the audience doesn’t matter, it’s the message that’s received that counts. Who are you writing for?
I am writing for you.
I write to share. I write to connect. I write to inspire, uplift, and at times reflect on my own daily struggles. I write about kindness because there is an indescribable joy in doing something nice for someone else. I write about educational topics because my I love to learn and grow. I even write about writing because that brings joy and sharing our words helps us become better writers in the process.
And today, when the swirling world around me seems to suffocate with negativity, I write to breathe… so you can breathe, too.
I believe the world needs more kindness. I believe the world needs more love. While I may not have all the answers, I do know one thing for sure:
The evil in this world will not stop me from doing good.
And it shouldn’t stop you either.
My random acts of kindness may be small, and they may be simple, but they matter. They are a lifeline in a world filled with hate. They keep us afloat when those riptides pull us away from the shore of safety.
And your stories are just as important as mine.
Thank you, faithful readers, for having the courage to continue your kindness despite the horrifying events that surround us each day. Shine your light bright in all you do! Share your stories. Be the change. Never doubt the impact your kindness can have on someone else.
In the final battle of good versus evil, good always wins.