It was only three days into the new year when we woke up in the United States to the news that our government had authorized military action in Venezuela, including the bombing of targets and the removal of its president and his wife.
Moments like this make it painfully clear that a calendar change does not mean we are suddenly living in a different world.
The same patterns of power, violence, and unilateral decision-making remain.
And once again, many of us are left with a familiar, quiet question:
How do we care in a world where decisions about life and death are made without us?
When leaders continue to make choices that shape the world without the consent or voices of the people most affected, care can feel disorienting.
Even naïve.
But care has never meant looking away.
Care begins by naming harm rather than normalizing it.
When we ignore atrocities — whether because they feel too large, too distant, or too overwhelming — we allow them to continue.
Silence does not create neutrality.
It creates permission.
This is true in the opposite direction as well.
When we witness something good, brave, or life-giving, naming it matters just as much.
Acknowledgment reinforces what we want to see repeated.
I was reminded of this in a coaching session recently.
A young nurse shared a goal of becoming more confident when speaking up around colleagues she perceived as more experienced or holding “higher” degrees.
As she described a rapid response situation, I reflected back what I heard:
Clear assessment skills.
Thoughtful oversight.
The discernment to know when to escalate care.
She had advocated for her patient fully and competently — even though it didn’t look like the version of confidence she had imagined.
Naming those strengths didn’t create confidence.
It revealed it.
This is how care multiplies.
Not through force.
Not through volume.
But through attention.
If we want different systems — in our governments, in healthcare, and in our communities — we have to model the care we want to see.
It’s easy to list what we oppose.
It takes courage to name what is still humane, still working, and still worth protecting.
Care is not gone.
It is happening quietly, all around us.
Our responsibility is to notice it, speak it aloud, and refuse to let it be erased.