Grab a coffee, this is a long post......☕ I have a confession to make. I cry. Often. And not just at the big, obvious things, the tragedies that make the headlines, the disasters that flash across our screens. I cry at the small, quiet, everyday moments that reveal the brokenness of our world. I cry watching a news report about a child who went to bed hungry. I cry reading a social media post about someone who was treated with cruelty simply for being who they are. I cry listening to a podcast about injustice, about ecosystems collapsing, about people fleeing their homes while the rest of us scroll past. And sometimes, I cry at the sheer weight of it all. The tears come unbidden. They well up in my throat, burn behind my eyes, and spill down my cheeks. And in those moments, I feel something visceral, a deep, aching sadness in my chest. A grief that is not just mine, but collective. A sorrow for the state of our world, for the dreadful, unspeakable things that we, all of us, collectively allow to continue. We see it. We know it. And yet, what do we do? We turn a blind eye. We scroll past. We change the channel. We tell ourselves it's too big, too complex, too far away. We shrug our shoulders and say, "I wish I could do something." We wring our hands and mutter, "Someone really should help." We post a black square, a broken heart emoji, a prayer emoji, and then we carry on with our day. And so it continues. The suffering, the exploitation, the destruction. The endless cycle of outrage followed by apathy, of tears followed by silence. But here is the question that keeps me awake at night.... Is our crying a beginning or an ending? Is it just an emotional release, a momentary purge that makes us feel better without changing anything? Or is it the first crack in our armour, the first stirring of something that might actually lead to action? Because I'll be honest... I am tired of just crying. I am tired of feeling sad and then doing nothing. I am tired of the "I wish" that never becomes "I will."