This week I sat down to write a lighthearted column and was unable to focus on anything other than the recent tragedies that have hit alarmingly close to home. Between the massacre of Minnesota schoolchildren close in age to my own, the assassination of Charlie Kirk just miles from my childhood home, and the attack on Latter-day Saints in a meetinghouse that looks just like mine, it feels like the world is caving in on itself. Or maybe, more accurately, like we’re caving in on each other.
I feel as though I’ve been worn down to a raw wire, operating in a constant state of anxiety. When I drop my kids off at school, I think of those Minnesota parents and how they said goodbye to their children and told them they loved them the morning of Aug. 27, not knowing it would be the last time. I th