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There’s a strange and heavy kind of grief that doesn’t come from personal loss — but from witnessing loss in the world. It may arrive suddenly, or as a weight that doesn’t make sense to explain. It’s not something most of us expect to feel so deeply, and that can make it confusing, unsettling, or even frightening.  Recently in Minneapolis, people across the country have felt this kind of grief. Alex Pretti, a 37-year-old ICU nurse, described by friends and family as compassio

Trauma doesn’t live only in memory.  It lives in the body.  Long after an event has passed, your nervous system may still respond as if danger is near. This can show up as feeling on edge, shutting down emotionally, becoming easily overwhelmed, or struggling to regulate emotions in moments that seem “small” to others.  These reactions are not weaknesses. They are learned survival responses.   When you’ve experienced trauma, your body learned that it needs to stay alert to sta

There are seasons when the world feels louder than we know how to handle. When grief, trauma, or long stretches of pain make everything feel heightened—our emotions, our thoughts, our questions, and even our faith.  In those moments, safety can feel hard to find.   Faith is often described as something that should steady us or give us peace. But when the pain is deep, faith doesn’t always feel comforting. Sometimes it feels distant. Sometimes it feels confusing. And sometimes

Grief doesn’t move in straight lines. It doesn’t follow steps or timelines, and it rarely looks the way we expect it to.  One day you may feel steady—able to talk, work, or even laugh—and the next day the weight of your loss may feel just as heavy as it did before. That can be confusing and discouraging, especially when you start wondering if you should be “further along” by now.  But grief doesn’t measure progress that way.  Grief moves in waves. It revisits familiar places.