But then… the sunscreen.

To borrow a line from one of my favorite movies, Love Actually:
“Whenever I get gloomy about the state of the world, I…”
… find comfort in watching people apply sunscreen to their loved ones’ backs.

I know. Weird. Maybe even a little creepy taken out of context. Let me explain.

Last week at the beach, I was enjoying a rare quiet moment to myself. My boys were surfing, my husband was snoozing in a beach chair beside me, and my daughter was happily digging for sand crabs nearby.

I had my notebook open on my lap, writing down sensory details for my next novel, when I looked up and saw an older woman carefully applying sunscreen to her (I assume) husband’s back. She made sure to get the back of his neck, the curve of his shoulders, not forgetting the spots along his sides.

There was something so lovely about it. So natural. A tender kind of love in the way she moved.

When I glanced around the beach, I realized it was happening everywhere—
Moms applying sunscreen to their kids.
Kids helping each other.
Teens awkwardly slathering lotion on their friends’ backs.

And it got me thinking…

The act of it—applying sunscreen so carefully, so thoughtfully—to protect a husband, wife, child, or friend from future pain… it might be the purest, simplest form of love. A wordless way of saying, “I don’t want you to hurt.” 

These small, everyday acts of love—they’re everything, especially now.

The state of the world is…well, scary. It feels as though we're becoming numb to the daily bombardments in the news, each story more outrageous than the last. 

We can only handle so much. 
I know many of us simply don’t actively pay attention anymore, a form of self-preservation. And yet, by the time a story reaches us, nothing is surprising. “Oh, the president swore on national television? Cool.” 

And it’s impacting us. All this doom and gloom. Whether we notice it or not. 

People are on edge. Neighbors are fighting. Strangers avoid eye contact. We’ve stopped smiling and waving. We all seem to be pitted against each other. 

We’ve all heard the phrase, “You can’t control anyone but yourself.” 

It might be cliche, but it’s true. 

Imagine if we actually lived that way? If we owned our choices instead of blaming others for our circumstances. The world might feel a little less chaotic. A little less angry. 

The neighbor called the police because your dog got loose and ran into his yard?
Annoying? Yes. But instead of fuming about it and labeling him a “loser,” what if you tried a different lens? They might be dealing with something you don’t know about.
And also, I should be more mindful with my pup.

And let’s bring back the wave. Wave at strangers. Smile at your neighbors. Say “hi” to the guy walking his cat. Sure, some people won’t respond—but most will.
And pretty soon, they’ll start doing it too. Life is weirdly wonderful like that.

Just to be clear—I’m not on a soapbox here.
I struggle with this, too. It’s hard to truly internalize the idea that I’m in control.
It’s so much easier to react, to stay busy, avoid eye contact, point fingers, and just keep moving.

I’ll listen to a podcast or read a book that reminds me of this truth—and for a moment, I remember. Right. Yes. I’m in control.
And then someone honks at me for driving the speed limit, and poof, it’s gone.

But then… the sunscreen.
That simple, heartwarming act shifted my perspective again. It was there for me to see all along. 

I am in control—of my reactions, of my energy, of how I choose to see the world.

So if you’re struggling with the state of the world, look for the good. The small signs. The quiet acts of care.

Start there. And just see what you notice.