I am not someone who easily cuts people out of my life.

Not because I don’t know where the lines are,

but because I believe people are more than a moment,

more than a headline,

more than the loudest thing they’ve ever said.

Humanity is sacred, and relationship is where it lives.

Because of this, I often find myself walking alongside people whose views and beliefs differ from my own.

And I don’t see that as a failure.

Right now, in this country, division feels like the air we breathe.

Everything is framed as sides.

Stay or go.

Us or them.

Agree or disappear.

But I keep remembering a warning whispered through history:

“A house divided against itself cannot stand.”

Abraham Lincoln said it plainly,

and the truth of it still echoes.

I want what we once pledged out loud—

one nation, indivisible.

Not unchallenged.

But held together by something stronger than agreement.

I’ve learned that disagreement doesn’t have to mean disrespect,

and difference doesn’t have to signal danger.

Two people can stand on opposite ground

and still reach for one another with kindness.

So I choose curiosity when it would be easier to cut away.

I choose listening when labeling is faster.

I choose to ask why

before deciding what must change.

That doesn’t mean every door stays open forever.

Peace still matters.

Boundaries still stand, serving as quiet sentinels that guard what matters.

Some relationships soften and stretch.

Some grow quiet.

Others reach their natural ending, where release is not failure, but wisdom.

But cutting people out is never my first move.

Because I’ve seen what grace can do.

I’ve watched hearts thaw.

I’ve felt the slow, sacred work of staying.

So I stay.

Not unchanged—but unbroken.

Still hoping.

Still holding space for one nation, indivisible.