A series about what comes after the moment of grace.
By: Rebecca Witherspoon, June 29, 2025
There are moments in life when all the noise fades. When someone’s loss, or pain, or humanity breaks through all the posturing and reminds us that before anything else—we are people. Not parties. Not platforms. Just people.
I recently experienced one of those moments after the death of my father. And in that moment, something surprising happened. Someone who has publicly disagreed with me, showed up. They didn’t come with conditions or corrections. They came with kindness. For a brief window of time, the walls lowered, the labels faded, and what remained was the simple truth that we are all human, and we all hurt.
That was the moment of grace.
But then, inevitably, the moment passes. Life speeds back up. People can retreat back to their corners. Old patterns will try to reclaim their place. And the question becomes: Now what?
What do we do after that single moment of grace?
Because if that’s all it ever is—a fleeting moment—it’s just not enough. Grace is a door, not a destination. It is meant to be opened. It invites something. But if we don’t walk through that door, if we don’t let it change how we engage, then it becomes little more than a lovely pause in a much uglier rhythm.
This post is the first in a series that’s not about being right louder, or calling people out just to score points. It’s about something harder and much more hopeful—what it means to start walking differently. To lead, even when no one’s following. To tell the truth without spitting fire. To stop pretending silence is peace, and also resist the pull to respond to cruelty with more cruelty.
It’s about choosing, every single day, not to become what we’re fighting against. It’s not easy but ultimately it’s worth it.
So if you’re tired—of the noise, of the performance, of the bitterness that’s dressed up like bravery—you’re not alone. This series is for anyone who’s ever wondered if healing a community is still possible. I believe it is. But it starts with small steps, hard truths, and a deep, abiding commitment to grace—not as a weakness, but as a radical act of strength.
Let’s walk it out together.
Musings By Rebecca 