Whenever there’s a crisis, I head toward the kitchen. When Nicole died, I dug out the rolling pin and made chicken noodle soup for her family. When we lost Jeff, I went to his kitchen to make lasagna so no one would have to return a casserole dish.

Lately, I’m finding myself making mac and cheese, pizza, and ravioli. Comfort food for anxious times. Since I’m not on the front lines somewhere standing up for dignity, truth, democracy, or whatever values are at stake, I’ve been feeling helpless and antsy.

T told me she was thinking about flying to Minneapolis to volunteer at a soup kitchen or shelter. She beat me to the punch—I had been pondering the same, arriving at a church kitchen with my apron. It’s a typical fantasy from my recovering co-dependent self—I’ll go help save the day! I need to check my ego and focus on realistic action here at home. That’s my work and invitation.

We have to show up wherever we are, continue doing our jobs and being active in our communities. We can do it these days with a little extra intention, kindness, and energy. We might have to pick up some slack for the ones who got buried by anxiety or illness. That has been me and surely will be again, so I can hold it now for someone else.

We have to show up and treat people with respect and dignity. We have to take responsibility when we’re the ones who made an error. We must be the ones to inhabit civility. When we know or sense something is needed, ask or just go. We have to try really hard to know and speak truth, and make sure when we read/see/listen to the news that we’re getting it from verified sources.

Otherwise, they win.

Let me say that another way. We cannot let the ones who are uncivil, cruel, gas-lighting, and dishonest hold any more power than they already do.

So, we have enough to do with the communities, responsibilities, and loved ones already at hand. They probably need us as much now as we need them.