Where is the Kindness?

It really gets to me when people feel the need to tell others how to be, how to act, or what they should have done differently—especially in moments of heartbreak.

This morning, I came across a tragic headline:

“18-year-old driver killed in multiple-car collision yesterday.”

Eighteen. Just a baby. My heart sank instantly thinking about his family, the pain they must be in today.

Then I made the mistake of looking at the comments. The first one wasn’t a prayer or a kind word—it was an accusation. Someone pointing a finger at the only person who didn’t survive. The others are still in the hospital, expected to recover, and this boy… he’s gone.

I can’t help but think—doesn’t he already know the mistake he made? Don’t his parents, his friends, everyone who ever loved him, already know? Why do we feel the need to speak as if his life mattered less because it was his fault?

We all make mistakes. And if there’s ever an age where mistakes are part of learning, isn’t it eighteen?

Yes, understanding fault helps prevent future tragedies. But there’s a time and a place for that conversation—and the comment section of a grieving family’s nightmare is not it. Words can’t undo the loss, but they can deepen the pain for those trying to heal.

Death is traumatic. Life is fragile. And the truth is—we’re all just trying to get through our own hard things every day.

So why can’t we just be kind? Why can’t we lead with empathy instead of judgment?

It hurts to see how divided we’ve become, how quick we are to point fingers instead of extend grace. I hope one day we learn to move forward—into a world that’s kinder and gentler where it needs to be, and fierce and bold where it matters most.

If we could all remember that grace and grief can coexist, maybe the world would finally breathe a little easier.

Maybe healing the world starts smaller than we think—with one kinder comment, one gentler moment, one choice to pause before we speak.

Because maybe the real test of humanity isn’t how loudly we point out the wrong—but how gently we choose to love anyway.

There’s something sacred about pausing before we speak—about choosing compassion when silence might hurt less, and letting love soften the edges of truth. I think that’s what we forget most often: that being right isn’t the same as being kind. And sometimes, the strongest thing we can do is hold space for someone else’s pain instead of trying to explain it away.

If empathy became our instinct instead of judgment, maybe fewer people would feel so alone in their grief. Maybe we’d start healing things we didn’t even realize were broken. It doesn’t take much to make the world gentler—just a moment of awareness, a willingness to imagine how words land when someone’s heart is already shattered.

Let’s Stay Connected ✨

If you’ve made it this far, you’re officially part of the chaos — welcome. You can find me and Blu over on TikTok @wrenkirkblujae

, where we share glimpses of our creative process, late-night thoughts, and all things Whispers of Windsor.

We also hang out on Instagram @the_witches_of_the_south

— it’s a mix of real life, writing moments, faith, and friendship (plus occasional cat content, because obviously).

We’re just getting started, so stay tuned — more platforms, stories, and behind-the-scenes magic are on the way. However you found us, I hope you’ll keep following along as Witches of the South and Whispers of Windsor grow into something bigger than either of us imagined.

The heart behind all of this — the writing, the podcast, the laughter, and even the chaos — is connection. Whether you’re here for the faith talks, the fiction, or just the reminder that you’re not the only one trying to figure life out one messy day at a time, I’m genuinely glad you’re here. Every view, comment, or quiet read means more than you know. This space was built for people like us — the ones who love deeply, laugh loudly, and are still learning how to give ourselves grace.

So come say hi, send a message, or just keep reading along quietly in the background. Either way, welcome to the wild, weird, and wonderful little world we’re building — one post, one laugh, and one story at a time.