Welcome to Nourish, a free monthly(ish) newsletter to help you be kinder to yourself and others. In your January 2026 issue: listening to our neighbors’ stories, speaking truth to power and clinging to books and counterweights.
Dear reader,
A haze hung in the air one week after New Year’s Day. 2026, in all its freshness, had already grown stale: We’d seen old friends over the holidays, but school was back in session and I missed the comforts of those relationships. News broke that a mother was killed by an ICE officer in Minneapolis, and I could not stop thinking about the tragedy. The gloomy weather matched my mood.
Adam and I dropped his brother at school and drove downtown in search of a pick-me-up.
Gather bakery appeared closed, but when we swung open the door, the scent of hot muffins and a baker with kind eyes greeted us. My preschooler selected a homemade cinnamon poptart, then we enjoyed our treats at a cafe table in the otherwise empty store. Gazing out the foggy windows, I wished Adam and I were in Chicago, where I could have easily arranged a coffee date with a mom friend and a playmate for Adam.
My eyes settled on a kid-sized cash register, complete with wooden coffee cups and muffins. “Adam, do you see that?” I said, pointing to the play area. He zoomed over and began rifling through supplies.
Setting out a tiny cup, he asked, “Mommy, do you want coffee?”
“Sure honey,” I chuckled, abandoning my real latte to crouch before the kid-size storefront. “How much do I owe you?”
A gust of cool air swirled inside Gather. Two older women arrived, followed by a young mom with her son who looked like he was Adam’s age. The boy joined Adam at the register; I returned to my latte and unearthed Theo of Golden from my purse.
The novel follows Theo, a mysterious elderly gentleman who moves to the city of Golden for a year. His project? To purchase portraits of Golden’s residents, sketched by a local artist and displayed in a local coffee shop, and bestow them to their subjects. Whenever Theo gifts a drawing, he invites the recipient to share their story with him. Many do, and the result is a lovely, moving collection of testimonies that remind us we cannot know the quiet sadness — and strengths — of our neighbors unless we dare to ask.
The sound of bickering roused my attention. Adam and the boy were pulling on the cash register.
“Adam, are you having trouble sharing?” I said, striding towards him. I turned my son gently towards me. “Do you remember when Jack’s friend came over to play?”
He nodded.
“His friend really wanted to play the baseball video game. Your brother didn’t. Then I asked Jack to be a ‘good host,’ and he chose baseball. How can you play nicely, like Jack?”
“Friend!” Adam called, jogging towards the other boy, who’d retreated to his mother. ”Come play.” They resumed their work in the coffee shop, the boy on the register and Adam “baking.”
One of the older women meeting for coffee remarked to me, “Did your son meet him to play?”
I smiled. “Not at all — they just met today.”
“Isn’t that nice,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I love how children make friends so easily.”
“Me too,” I said, watching them. “If only we could do the same.” I wondered, at what age does the window to easy friendship shut? After someone excludes you? Or breaks your heart?
“Yes! Oh, I loved this stage,” her friend added. “It was one of my happiest times in motherhood.”
We spoke a while longer, about their grandchildren and their lives now, before both bid me a warm farewell and went on with their mornings.
Throughout this exchange, the mother of Adam’s new friend was deep in her phone. I wondered if she was doomscrolling the news. Was she as brokenhearted by the state of the world as I was?
Inspired by Theo, I struck up a conversation. I asked about her son and how long she’d lived in the area. She told me she’d grown up here and had two other sons. She lamented the challenges of entertaining kids in the winter, recommending a nearby nature center. I nodded and listened, grateful to connect with another mom who stayed home with her children. Within her, I sensed a quiet loneliness with which I was intimately familiar. Did she, like me, long for more adult connection? Maybe I could find it again, with Adam leading me. Eventually, our new friends bid us farewell. I looked at my watch and saw we needed to leave too.
Winter coats on, we descended into the fog, Adam skipping in the crosswalk, me gripping his hand like a fisherman struggling with a wild catch. I could not fathom the careless cruelty of humanity, but I was grateful for kind interactions with friends we’d only met today. If only getting along with our neighbors was as simple for adults as it was for preschoolers. If only everyone could, like Theo, see each other as a work of art — worthy of respect and kindness. How would our world change if we paused to really listen to each other’s stories? Perhaps we could rewrite our collective narrative.
The car was now in sight. A man walking a border collie approached us. The staleness of the day had begun to dissipate, replaced by something like warm dough rising — something like hope. Sunshine fell on our faces as Adam and I lifted our eyes and grinned at another neighbor.
NOURISH YOURSELF
When the heaviness of current events engenders despair, how do we practice self-compassion? First, we name the weights, advises Shannon Martin, author of the forthcoming book, Counterweights. For me, it’s the violence and strife in Minneapolis, dangerous winter storms in my country and wars abroad. Then, we locate counterweights. “A counterweight is anything that helps keep us upright against the strain of everything that hurts in this world and our lives,” Martin writes. Here are a few of my current counterweights:
Listening to Amy Poehler’s “Good Hang” podcast with my earbuds in while washing dishes or folding laundry, then confusing my children as I chuckle to myself. My top episodes feature Ina Garten and Tina Fey;
Comfort food in the form of pesto pasta (I use this pesto recipe with ½ cup of toasted pine nuts and no parmesan) and blueberry crisp;
“The People We Meet on Vacation,” a rom-com that delivers pure escapism through its breath-taking views and LOL-inducing scenes;
A morning pages routine that helps me gather my thoughts before I’m pulled in a million directions by my family.
NOURISH OTHERS
If you’re deeply troubled by the fatal shootings in Minneapolis and the federal response to those deaths, you’re not alone. I’ve seen the videos. I’ve digested coverage from right- and left- leaning media. I’ve read the statements from various politicians, including remarks that contradict clear evidence. Honestly? I’m rattled. This isn’t a time for silence, yet I’ve been paralyzed by writer’s block, afraid my voice will be too much for some and not enough for others.
I don’t have answers, just questions. Like, why am I scared to speak up? Why are ICE interactions becoming so violent? What is the end goal here? How can we fix our frayed democracy? How can I, as a Christian, call for peace and justice? Where is God in this mess?
Last week, I reached out to my house representative and state senators to express concern over the callous, harmful ways in which immigration enforcement and customs officers are working. Immigration is complicated; human decency is not. If you’re concerned as well, please join me and share your views with your elected officials and other community leaders. Make a call. Send an email. Repeat. Speaking truth to power will help us create a kinder society.
NOURISHING WORDS
On my nightstand
The Pleasing Hour, The English Teacher& Writers and Lovers — After tearing through Lily King’s Heart the Lover, I wanted to read more of King’s work and ended up reading three of her earlier novels. Passionate and engrossing, these novels are a window into King’s obsessions and evolution as a novelist. Each has a literary quality and surprising turns for readers. Heart the Lover fans will be especially interested in Writers and Lovers’ connection to its central character.
When We Swung from Church Bells — With lyricism and playfulness, Callie Feyen invites readers into her faith stories. She writes of belief and doubt, girlhood and motherhood, marriage and work, bringing to mind my own memories and making me feel seen as a believer. In a book that was surely meant for this moment, Feyen illuminates the terrors that haunt us and the palpable beauty that sustains us — hopeful red geraniums, reading the Bible with a four-year-old, the thunk of soccer balls and the ring of church bells. “Make us scavengers for peace when the waters are too dangerous and too deep for us,” she writes, and also prays. “Keep us wiling to fly. … Let us cling to the belief that we are [all] wonderfully and beautifully made.”
In closing, I’ll share a Theo of Golden quote that’s been on my mind lately:
“Sadness might be many things, but it is rarely stupid. The good sadness, I think, is always trying to tell us something very important.”
May we honor our sadness, and all it’s trying to teach us. May we keep bearing witness to our neighbors’ stories, though we want to look away. When the news weighs us down, let us rest. Let us find counterweights to remain hopeful. Let us use our voices for good. Let us raise children who are braver and kinder than we could ever dream of. May we know that we are not alone in any of it — God walks with us, urging us to love and serve our neighbors. And may we keep asking questions and striving for peace.
Grace and peace, Erin
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“The world feels scarier every day. The threat of violence and war is closer than we’d like to believe. Differences in opinion can break apart friendships, or worse, lead to loss. For I know there’s so much I can’t control and so much that is beyond my understanding. When the political divide has kept families from talking to one another and people make rash judgements, I want to show my kids another way.
I want to be a model for seeing the people before me as God’s beloved.”
Thank you very much for your gorgeous and generous endorsement, Erin.
And thank you for sharing your thoughts on Theo of Golden. I am reading it now and thought perhaps this book isn't for me. However, after reading what you wrote about the story, I know I will read with fresh eyes...which is kind of the point, yeah? :)
Such a good read, ❤️
Thank you very much for your gorgeous and generous endorsement, Erin.
And thank you for sharing your thoughts on Theo of Golden. I am reading it now and thought perhaps this book isn't for me. However, after reading what you wrote about the story, I know I will read with fresh eyes...which is kind of the point, yeah? :)