I don’t know about you, but so far, 2026 has felt like a master class in powerlessness for me.
The cold has been relentless. My kids are bored and restless. Work has been a blur of urgent, high-visibility assignments. I experienced a painful and frightening infection that forced me to take more than a week off – something I haven’t done outside of parental leave. Layered on top of all this is the continued presence of federal authorities in our state and the uncertainty surrounding funding for critical social service programs. No matter where you fall politically, these events have impacted all of us.
Usually, I can tell what’s within my control and what isn’t. Right now, everything feels tangled together and overwhelming.
Recently I spoke with a trusted advisor I’ve worked with for more than 20 years. In the context of everything unfolding, she shared a few insights that have stuck with me.
She reminded me that we are living through the defining challenge of our generation. When we look back at earlier generations and the challenges they lived through – the Great Depression, world wars – we do so knowing how those stories ended. We don’t have the benefit of that clarity. Not knowing how this will turn out is part of what makes this moment so difficult and heavy.
What can help to stave off despair is seeing how people are showing up for one another: neighbors helping neighbors, mutual aid networks forming, generosity flowing to people in need. It is heartening to see the spirit of tzedakah – justice, not charity – working in our state.
She also said something that brought me to tears: when things are painful, it’s proof that your humanity remains intact, that your neshama is still whole.
None of us, she reminded me, is likely to be the singular hero of this story. Our responsibility is to do what we can – no more, no less – and to trust that change comes from our collective effort. That message felt especially important as I continue to recover from illness, as a reminder that I don’t have to work to the point of burnout to do my fair share.
In reflecting on what she shared with me, I really thought COVID was going to be the defining challenge of our time! It seems only fair that each generation should be allotted one crisis per decade. Collectively, we have experienced so many hardships and difficulties in the last five years in Minnesota, way more than our fair share. And yet, I’ve been deeply moved by the selfless love I’ve seen from neighbors, the organic networks of support forming in our community, and the steady leadership within my synagogue and the broader Jewish community.
My family talks – a lot – around the dinner table. We try to eat together most nights, following our children’s lead into deeper conversations. I often ask, “What questions do you have?” – a phrase that sometimes annoys them, but one meant to signal that we welcome curiosity and discussion.
Last week, those conversations centered on current events in our state. We talked about the differences between immigrants, refugees, and asylum seekers, about safety, fear for friends, and what it means to live with anxiety that doesn’t resolve quickly.
In those moments, I’m grateful that we can ground our discussions in Jewish values. My children understand tzedakah as justice and hachnasat orchim – welcoming others – as a core obligation. Kindness to the stranger is so central to Judaism that it appears 36 times in the Torah – more often even than laws of Shabbat. This spirit comes so naturally to children, whose minds and hearts are open. I realized that part of the work that I can contribute in this moment is to cultivate that openness, and ensure that we aren’t just talking about our values, that we are living them, too. Actions speak louder than words, and children follow our examples. I have made sure to tell my kids about the donations we have made, the work we are doing, and to include them when we can.
I wish I could peek around the corner and see how this all turns out. I wish I could tell my children that everything will be okay. I grieve that I can’t. For now, we will keep leaning into our values and looking for ways to lead with gemilut hasadim – acts of loving kindness.