I remind myself of miracles. Glass that lets the sunlight spill into my house. Art on the walls. The warmth I can turn on and off with a tap on a screen. The colorful ceramic mug, shaped by the hands of someone I never met. The dark brew inside made of beans grown half a world away, shipped here and roasted while still fresh enough to release the flavor I enjoy so much.

It is so much easier to attend to our sorrows. But joy is here too.