Scribed In Light

I pray today that my voice rises like thunder, rolling over a sleeping field. I pray it stirs wisdom, spirit, and the kind of moral clarity that pierces through the fog of misunderstanding and judgment. Because this voice rises, fueled by both compassion and fire.

Compassion is the quiet courage to see those the world tries to shy away from and overlook. It’s hearing the nonverbal child’s scream not as an inconvenience, but as a cry for connection.

It’s witnessing the exhausted parent in the grocery aisle – eyes swollen from sleepless nights – and choosing to offer kindness instead of judgment.

Compassion is presence over pity. Understanding over assumption. Dignity over dismissal.

Fire is what ignites in your chest when someone dares to speak falsehoods about the people you love. It’s the righteous fury when a leader uses a microphone to label lives as less-than. It’s the heat that builds when those with no lived experience try to define the worth of the most sacred souls among us.

But this fire? It doesn’t destroy. It illuminates. It exposes injustice. It burns away apathy. It refuses to stay silent.

Lately, the airwaves have carried more than just politics. They’ve carried poison. Poison aimed at the most vulnerable among us. Politicians and public figures, puffed with power but hollow in heart, have begun using neurological disorders – autism, intellectual disabilities, mental illness- as rhetorical weapons. Painting lives like my grandchildren’s – and families like mine – as “burdens.” “Broken.” “Less.”

I refuse to be silent. Because what they try to strip away with their words is what we’ve spent lifetimes building:

We are the mothers who’ve sat on cold floors in hospital rooms, rocking a child who couldn’t speak – yet said everything with their eyes.

We are the fathers who’ve traded pride for presence – who’ve learned sign language, fought insurance denials, and swallowed pain just to keep going.

We are the grandparents who’ve opened our homes and hearts, who’ve seen miracles tucked inside meltdowns and joy inside the chaos.

We are the siblings who grow up too fast – learned compassion early, and who carry invisible loads with love.

We are the caretakers

We are the teachers.

We are the therapists.

We are the ones who know that a single step forward – no matter how small – is sacred ground.

We are the sleepless. The soul-worn. The silent warriors.

We are tired, but we are not weak.

We are persecuted, but we are not forsaken.

We are MANY.

We are MIGHTY.

We are We the People.

And we – we must never be overlooked.

We are the very ones our Constitution was written to protect – not fringe, not forgotten, but foundational. We are not outside the promise of America – we are the promise. We live it out daily through resilience, compassion, and tireless love.

We are the fabric of what human dignity is supposed to mean.

So when elected voices use their platforms to dehumanize our loved ones, they are not simply offending us – they are betraying the moral framework of this nation.

We are not to be pitied – we are to be honored, heard, and partnered with.

We are not silent – we have been unheard, and that is no longer acceptable.

We are in every zip code. Every city. Every winding backroad town.

We are mothers.

Fathers.

Grandparents.

Siblings.

Caregivers.

Neighbors.

Educators.

Advocates.

What they try to dismiss as “less than” – we know is a life full of worth and value.

Let no one convince you that your child, your family, your truth is disposable. Because what they try to strip with their words is what we, and those before us, have spent lifetimes building:

• Patience that softens storms
• Love that never quits.
• Strength born in silence and sleepless nights.
• Hope that rises again and again.

That, my friend is holy ground.

We the people have spent lifetimes building beyond policies or party lines. We have built a collective promise – a covenant between generations that says every life matters. We do not leave the vulnerable behind. We stand for the dignity of those who cannot yet stand for themselves.

Truth, compassion, and justice are not suggestions – they are pillars. The very foundation of who we are meant to be.

We’ve spent lifetimes standing guard at the gates of humanity, assuring one another that kindness would still have a voice.

-That no child would be fogotten

-That no difference would define worth.

-That being American means more than slogans – it means sacrifice for the sake of one another.

We have bled, marched, prayed, petitioned, and raised generations to believe that the arc of justice bends not on its own- but because we rise together and bend it forward.

That…is why this is holy ground, my friends. Because every time we speak up for those the world would rather ignore, we are standing exactly where Christ stood.

Beside the unseen.

With the misunderstood.

To defend the “least of these.”

It is holy…because it always has been- and still is – costly. Because it demands we love when it’s hard. Because it teaches us to hold broken things with reverence…and call them cherished.

It is holy because when we rise together for what is right, we don’t just protect the vulnerable – we protect the soul of a nation. This isn’t just advocacy. This is intercession on behalf of love, truth, and sacred worth.

Because stirring with no plan to rectify the wrongs… is just emotional theater. It may feel good in the moment – but without movement, without engagement, without action – you become part of the very system you were grieving.

Awareness without action becomes complicity.

You cannot say you care if you will not rise.

You cannot say you love if you will not labor.

And know this: If you choose not to fight for the rights and dignity of the most vulnerable today – you may very well be silencing your own future’s voice.

Aging parents. Injured loved ones. Unexpected diagnoses. It only takes one moment – one shift – to find yourself or someone you love on the very side you once ignored.

Let this post be more than a spotlight – let it be a signal fire against the slander and injustice carelessly cast upon the vulnerable.

Let it be a blueprint. A battle cry. A sacred summons. Because injustice will not dissolve on its own. It must be confronted. Dismantled. Replaced.

We do that by lifting one another, linking our voices, and walking in unity toward truth. But unity without direction is just noise.

So here’s the road map – the torch in your hand and the path beneath your feet:

HOW TO BE HEARD: How to push back. how to set it right.

1. Contact your leaders. Tell your truth.

• Look up your state and national representatives at usa.gov/elected-officials
• Call. Email. Write Show up at their offices.
• Tell them: “You represent ‘me’.” “I expect you to represent ALL.” ” You were elected to serve everyone…inclusive of those who have no ability to speak for themselves.”
• Demand statements condemning harmful rhetoric and demand support for inclusive, accessible policies.

Call now. Be counted. If you’re ready to go beyond awareness and into impact, here’s a simple tool that helps you speak directly to the people shaping policies that affect the vulnerable:

– Try the “5 Calls” App

• It’s free.
• It’s easy to use.
• It connects you to your elected officials in less than a minute.
• It even gives you short, respectful scripts so you’ll never feel unsure about what to say.

Here’s how it works:

• Download 5 calls on your phone, or visit 5calls.org
• Enter your ZIP code
• Choose and issue that matters to you
  Call your representatives using the contact info and script provided
• Log your call – and know your voice just counted

Because calls carry weight – more than emails, more than social media posts. When thousands of us – WE THE PEOPLE – pick up the phone?

They can’t ignore us.

2. Don’t vote for judgment. Vote for justice.

• Research your candidates’ stance on disability rights, caregiver support, mental health access, and equity policies.
• Don’t just vote – support others in the steps to become educated and vote wisely, too.
• Every unchecked ballot is a silence that could cost lives.

3. Link arms locally. You are not alone.

• Join or form caregiver coalitions and neurodiversity advocacy groups.
• Attend school board meetings, city council sessions, public hearings.
• Share lived experiences. Invite others to tell theirs.
• Your story is your sword. Use it.

4. Use social media like a megaphone.

• Tag officials. Share calls to action.
• Pair emotion with evidence.
• Use hashtags like: #JusticeForTheVulnerable #DisabilityIsNotADisgrace #WeTheCaregivers #ProtectNeuroDivergentLives
• Make it impossible to scroll past you.

5. Engage the media. Help shape the public narrative.

• Submit letters to the editor or op-ed’s (short for opinion editorials) to local papers. These are public pieces where everyday people can share their perspectives and spark community-wide conversations.
• Tell your story. Speak truth. Shift the lens You don’t have to be a journalist. You just have to care- and be willing to speak. Many papers have a place on their site where you can submit your story or letter.
• Share blog posts (like this one) with journalists and reporters.
• The more we flood the public square with truth, the more we drown out the lies.

6. Help others rise.

Support a tired caregiver. Offer respite. Speak encouragement.

But don’t stop there – know what that actually means.

Because many people want to help, but they don’t always understand what kind of help makes the difference. So here it is:

Offering Respite Can Be As Simple As:

1. Sitting with their loved one so they can take a shower or nap without fear.
2. Bringing a meal – especially on therapy or appointment days, or any other day when meltdowns are most likely to occur.
3. Running errands, or picking up groceries when they’re too drained to ask.
4. Mowing their yard, folding a basket of laundry, or offering to clean a bathroom.
5. Watching their children (if safe and appropriate) for even an hour.
6. Sending a gift card for food, coffee, gas – or just a little joy.
7. Offering to attend an IEP meeting, appointment, or stressful moment with them so they feel supported.

Speaking Encouragement Can Sound Like:

• “You are doing more than anyone sees… and it matters.”
• “I see how hard this struggle is – and how deeply your love is woven through it – it’s the strength holding it all together.”
• “You’re not failing. You’re carrying more than most people would ever dream of carrying.”
• “You shouldn’t have to be this strong on your own – I’m here.”

Because so often, they don’t need someone to fix it. They just need someone to see it. To feel it. To simply stand beside them.

That… is holy work.

Let this not be where your reading ends. Let it be where your rising begins. Because injustice doesn’t always march in waving flags. Sometimes, it slips in quietly – through jokes, policies, headlines, and speeches that devalue the very people we swore to protect.

If we stay silent…

If we sit idle…

If we say, “That’s not my fight”…

Then we, too, become part of the thread that unravels humanity from the inside out.

So I’m asking – no, I’m inviting you. To feel what this moment is asking of you. To hear what conscience is whispering.

Rise. Speak. Share.

Call. Vote. Write.

Stand beside. Step in front of. Be the voice. Be the shelter. Be the hands that help hold the line.

Because this is holy ground, and what we defend today will shape the world our children will inherit tomorrow.Let the ground shake beneath our unity. Let compassion become the new uprising. Let the thunder of truth roll on… through you.

Today, the issue is this: the dehumanization of our most vulnerable- those with disabilities, neurological disorders, and mental illness. It is the quiet, steady stripping of dignity from those who cannot always fight for themselves.

If we do not rise now, tomorrow it may be your aging parent. Your child. Your loved one – the soul you hold dearest – and what you choose now, today – shapes what they inherit. Your reflection in the mirror.

So today, we rise.

For them.

For us.

For what is holy, and what is right.

Because silence is not neutrality – it is surrender.

You were never made to surrender to injustice. You were made to rise, reflect light, and carry truth forward. So let it be said that when judgment shouted – you spoke louder.

With steady hearts and unshakable grace, may we rise together. Not just in voice – but in action. In courage. In love. Until every unseen soul is seen..and honored. Until justice rolls down like a mighty river.

“But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.” -Amos 5:24

TO MY GRANDCHILDREN,
If ever the world feels loud with injustice or heavy with silence-
may you remember that your voice was always meant to rise.
You are the reason I speak.
You are the love I fight for.
You are the future I pray this world will be ready for.
Always rise with grace, truth, and unshakable love.

With all my heart,
Nana

Tina Noreen Campbell | Scribed In Light