Scared but Hopeful: Finding Light in a Fractured World
Lately, I’ve felt a quiet fear settling into my spirit. Maybe you’ve felt it too—that subtle but ever-present weight that comes from watching our world unravel in ways we never imagined. The political climate feels like a storm we can’t escape, with division crackling like thunder between neighbors, communities, even within families. It’s hard to watch the news without feeling a knot in my stomach, wondering, Where are we headed?
There’s a heaviness in knowing that the values I once thought were shared—kindness, respect, truth—now feel like battlegrounds. It seems like everything is up for debate, even the basic dignity of human life. And while I try to stay hopeful, some days that hope feels paper thin.
But then something happened that stirred a light in me: the announcement of the new pope.
I’ll admit, I’m not someone who follows every move the Vatican makes, but when the white smoke rose and the new pope was revealed, I paused. Not because I expected one man to solve the world’s problems,but because the symbolism of that moment cracked through my fear.
This new pope—his name Pope Leo XIV, his humility, the way he speaks about compassion and care for the marginalized—he reminds me of what is still possible. He reminds me that moral leadership can exist. That goodness can rise even when the world feels like it’s falling apart.
I watched him speak to the crowd with tears in my eyes. Not because I thought he would magically fix things, but because I felt seen. Heard. Reminded that even in uncertain times, faith still matters. Love still matters. And yes, hope still matters.
It was as if, in that moment, God whispered, I am still here.
The political world may be spinning out of control, but spiritual leadership—when done with grace, humility, and a genuine heart for others—can anchor us. This new pope gives me that anchor. He speaks of unity in a time of deep division. He encourages peace when so many are choosing rage. He embraces the forgotten, not with photo ops, but with authenticity.
It gives me something to hold onto.
So yes, I am scared. I worry about the kind of world my daughters and future grandchildren will inherit. Iear the widening gap between “us” and “them” and the way people speak past each other instead of to each other.
But I also have hope. Hope that more leaders—political, spiritual, and everyday folks like you and me—will choose the path of compassion over conflict. Hope that the message of this new pope will ripple outward, inspiring others to listen deeper, love wider, and stand stronger for what’s right.
Hope doesn’t mean we ignore the storm. It means we look for the light that breaks through.
And right now, I’m choosing to follow that light.
