I wanted to write to you after the attempted assassination of former President Trump. Consider this a personal note directly to you. And know that I have intentionally held off rushing to send you any thoughts to allow things to settle a bit. There’s already too much noise enveloping our politics and lives.

First, like most Americans, I am praying for the former president, his family, and all those affected by this weekend’s events. There is no room for political violence in our nation.

On almost a daily basis people tell me they’re angry about the country’s past and present. Hopeless or despairing about its future.

On this Fourth of July, do we dare celebrate the country? Condemn it? Simply walk away from it?

What interests me as we approach the Fourth is how we can harness the torn feelings many of us have for America—the mix of positive, negative, and complex—toward reclaiming a patriotism that leads us forward rather than divides us.

It can sound trite to say, “I’m so proud to be associated with you.” I’m sure you’ve felt this way at some point, right? 

It’s a statement that can ring hollow. 

But when the moment comes when that feeling is real—really real—when it pierces your soul, when your eyes well up with tears, when your heart is so full you’re convinced it’s going to burst—in that moment, at that time, you experience a kind of transcendence from being truly awake, present, even naked in your genuine sense of connection and joy. Standing before folks in Reading, PA this past week, that’s how I felt. 

“Remember, your mission is to hide from me…. If you’re in the open, you don’t want to look human.” All across our country, people are seeking to hide from others in one way or another. But can we create the communities and society we aspire to if we are in hiding? 

I’ve been thinking a lot about the word “enough” lately. Its use gives rise to both anger and aspiration. Think about it. What have you had enough of? What does it propel you to want? 

I’m writing this note on a plane heading home from our first “Enough. Time to Build.” campaign event in Fresno, CA. Among the many profound experiences I had on this trip, I find myself thinking especially about two women I met. They each have much to teach us about how we can build together as Americans.

I am writing a deeply personal note to you this Sunday. I hope that you will take a few minutes to read it, and to write to me. I hope you will join me. It’s that important. This week, I launched a new nationwide campaign, “Enough. Time to Build.”  

A community leader recently said to me, “I just don’t know if I can do this anymore.” It’s a common refrain I’m hearing. People’s words often come haltingly, filled with regret, pain, and anger.

Maybe you feel this way, too. 

It’s easy to feel exhausted, beat up, frustrated by just how hard it is to get things done nowadays. The challenges that our organizations, communities, and society face are mounting, piling up, and getting harder to address. Some are new; others are just being uncovered, but have long been with us.

Sometimes the very people who are supposed to be your allies, your supporters, your partners, throw up more obstacles than clear pathways for you to move forward. At times, you might feel weary, even scared, to step forward and say what you really think or believe for fear of being shut down or having your motivations questioned. 

You’re not alone. Please, don’t feel alone.

On Monday, another mass shooting claimed six lives, including three children, at The Covenant School in Nashville, TN. As I heard the news, my thoughts turned to Uvalde, to Parkland, to Newtown. To the many other communities who have faced similar tragedies and are searching for a way to feel safe. I was reminded of the piece I wrote last year in the wake of the Uvalde shooting about what it means—for us, for our communities—to feel safe. I believe now, as I did then, that it is well past time for action. I invite you to revisit this piece with me. Take the words to heart, then let’s get to work—together.

I wanted to personally write to you at this critical moment in our country: our public square is being hijacked by the loudest, noisiest, and most divisive voices and groups. I believe deeply we must take intentional action to counter these negative forces taking over our public square. 

Ten years ago last week, a gunman killed twenty first graders and six adults at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, CT. The massacre shook the nation. Just weeks later, I was called into Newtown to help the community move forward, from trauma and despair to healing and hope.

Since then, school shootings have become so common that kids report imagining how they’d react if it happened to them. I have two children of my own; no child or parent, anywhere, anytime, should have to imagine such tragedy. 

The U.S. has more guns on the street than any other nation, with gun violence on the rise. In the last five years, the U.S. has had more mass shootings than any other comparable time span dating back to 1966. What’s going on? What should we be thinking about—and doing?

The 2022 elections are over, and the political instability once predicted seems to have passed. But the challenges people face in their lives have not magically evaporated because of one election season, nor have future political shenanigans. You, me and others who believe in creating a more inclusive, hopeful path moving forward must act—and with renewed intentionality. There is work to do, progress to make, hope to build. Now.