Today is the start of the next half of 2025.

I started the day a little early, with a phone call to go to the hospital to help a family in the first minutes after the death of their person. Ten minutes later, I got a call that the family wasn’t going to the hospital. Our overnight chaplain would talk with them by phone.

I won’t know their story until I get to work, until I talk with him. But it’s not my story to help tell. This chapter ending, their next steps.

I know you well enough, because I know you are human, to know that you are already asking questions about the person, about the family, about what the chaplain will say over the phone.

It’s not your story to help tell, either.

We’re spending so much time right now worrying about other people’s stories. We are getting outraged, worried, distracted. And some of us keep scrolling to learn more about what people think about these stories.

I understand. I’ve spent time scrolling since the call woke me up and since the second call said, “nevermind”. I know about the outcome of a trial in Ohio, and about some of the senate debate.

I’m also pretty sure that I don’t want to spend the next six months of 2025 scrolling through stories that aren’t my story to help tell.

A few minutes ago, I wrote, “Are we called to have impact, to make a difference? Or are we called to be faithful. To love and to trust. To be all the things that we talk about from a spiritual perspective.”

There are stories for us to help tell. There are friends in transitions. There are neighbors one street over. There’s the next half of the year. Perhaps.