“The other morning, on the acreage of my northern New Mexico home, I pressed my ear into the dirt and heard Mother groaning. The same groan I once heard in the city—the helicopters, the warnings, the fear—was humming here beneath piñons and quiet skies. With my face to the earth, I realized the land has been mourning all along. And somewhere in that hum, I could hear Jesus drawing in the dirt again, inviting us to lay down our stones so those who have been targeted and exhausted might finally be free.”

“As I watched that blood fall, I thought about how easy it would’ve been to stay inside. To tell myself it wasn’t my problem. To stay safe, stay out of it, keep my peace. But that’s the lie of ‘peace’ in this country—it’s really just distance. We mistake our isolation for safety. The truth is, there’s always risk in stepping out. But there’s a greater risk in staying in. Because when you stay in, you become part of the silence that lets systems keep wounding people.”