I like to believe that I am a caring, compassionate individual. I try to pay attention to people’s lives and to send texts wishing them well, sending love, or offering support. I take pride in showing up for others and participating in their lives. But sometimes, a little arrogance creeps in the form of comparison, and I notice how few people seem to do the same for me. That must mean I’m truly caring and compassionate, right?
The truth is that I struggle to pick up the phone and actually call someone. The thought of visiting a friend’s house or hospital room feels awkward and intimidating. Sending a text is easy. Showing up in person takes effort.
I remember when my daughter was born. We’d only lived in our small town for a few months, and I hardly knew anyone. So, you can imagine my surprise when neighbors began showing up with meals and newborn gifts. Day after day, they came. A community I barely knew surrounded me with kindness.
The distance between
Nearly 30 years later, that kind of connection feels rare. When a loved one had surgery last year, only a few people stopped by. When someone close to me lost a loved one unexpectedly, only one person showed up the days and weeks that followed. I don’t share this to criticize anyone. Instead, it’s an eye-opening realization of my own opportunity to grow.
In a time when mental health struggles are at an all-time high, genuine connection matters more than ever. The more we are addicted to screen time, the less comfortable we are to engage face-to-face. Loneliness and isolation creep in quietly.
When I sit beside a loved one scrolling on my phone instead of talking, my actions scream louder than any well-intentioned text. A “like” or a hug emoji on social media is not the equivalent of showing up with a casserole after a birth, diagnosis, or loss.
My son recently taught me something powerful: the difference between guilt and conviction is grace. That truth has stayed with me. I’m convicted, not guilty, that I haven’t shown up in caring and compassionate ways that feel authentic and impactful. I offer myself grace, knowing it’s okay to not get it right every time. The heart behind my actions, even texts, is always the most important.
Still, I know I can do more. In a world drowning in loneliness, anxiety and depression, I choose to be love with a voice, compassion with skin on, and care with feet that move toward others. It will be uncomfortable. It will be awkward. But I’m here for it. Anyone with me?