Dawn Camp

I couldn’t put my finger on it. I felt sad, but didn’t really know why. That particular day hadn’t come with a crisis or catastrophe. No illness, intense struggle, or unresolved conflict. Even so, my heart felt tender, worn. Sometimes the cumulative impact of simply living takes a toll — on the heart, mind, body, and soul. You can’t mark it on your calendar or prepare ahead of time. Instead, it sneaks up and blindsides you with inexplicable waves of emotion.

Sometimes, you just need people to show up — especially when you’re scared, especially when you’re tired, especially when you need a little Christmas. I’ll never forget November 2018. It was my second battle with cancer, my second time undergoing chemo. This time, perhaps because my body was already worn down from a round of Hodgkin’s lymphoma, the chemo for breast cancer took an extra toll. I had a fainting spell at a restaurant, passed out cold and wound up in the hospital for a week.

Some years take more out of us than others. 2025 is one of those years. Loss piles on top of disappointment, and the weight of uncertainty makes it hard to catch our breath. Maybe that’s where you find yourself right now — grieving what was, anxious about what is, unsure of what’s ahead. This season has been heavy for many of us, not only because of the personal struggles we each carry, but also because of the collective ache woven into our communities and world. It’s a lot to process.