It struck me today that an unintended consequence of those who impose violence upon our world is one of greater love.

I mean “greater love,” in the smallest way. Not one between countries, or in policies. Not one spoken from leaders.

Tiny love. Love that by virtue of its genuineness, can reach only a few.

Perhaps it is too small a thing to send a text, or email saying, “my heart is with you and your community. If I can accompany you, please tell me how.” It would be my honor to stand with you, however I can. It is such a small thing and it feels inadequate.

Maybe it is a tiny thing to look at our neighbor, or our co-worker and hold out our hand, offer a hug, or invite them to share what heavy thing they carry.

But these tiny things draw us closer to one another. They move us from calling someone “co-worker,” “neighbor,” “friend” to “sister,” “kin,” “beloved.”

Yesterday, I signed up to receive the weekly newsletter from our local mosque, hoping to keep abreast of community events our family can attend. It’s a tiny, tiny thing. The smallest of acts. But it’s the only unintended consequence of violence that I can live with.