How I stayed present and connected when breakfast turned political

We were sitting around the table after church on Easter Sunday — everyone quickly shed their church clothes, now comfy and ready for some baked goods. A teenager rummaged happily through her Easter basket (yes, we still do baskets — jelly beans, fancy lotion, some chocolate eggs, because why not?). The table was crowded with fresh-baked biscuits, apple fritters, fresh Louisiana strawberries, and, of course, strong coffee.

It was one of those rare, good moments. Everyone relaxed. Full bellies. Warm spring light streaming in.

And then… the conversation swerved.

Campus protests. Free speech. “The kids these days.”
Suddenly, we were no longer talking about what kind of jam to put on a biscuit. We were talking about the state of the world. You probably know what I mean.

One comment about people being too sensitive. Another about "what happened to just respecting authority." Someone else chimed in about whether certain groups are “really oppressed” or just want attention.

And inside me, something flared.

That familiar heat behind the eyes. The automatic defensiveness. A rush of thoughts lining up, ready to educate or correct or fight back.

But instead — I paused.

I took a breath and pressed my feet into the floor.
I felt the weight of the coffee mug in my hand.
And I silently repeated my mantra:
“I love these people. I want to stay connected, not convince.”

It didn’t mean I agreed. It didn’t mean I was okay with everything being said.
It meant I was choosing something different.

I asked questions. I stayed curious. I stayed grounded.
I didn’t perform. I didn’t explode.
I didn’t try to cram a worldview into a 3-minute response while someone reached for another biscuit.

There were probably a hundred micro-moments over the weekend that could’ve pulled me into debate.
Little comments. Jokes. Eye rolls. The things that sting in quiet ways.
But I came into this weekend with a quiet experiment:

What happens if I just let love lead?

Just breathe and stay present without any agenda. Remind myself that it isn’t my job in this moment to change their minds. That I’m here to spend time with people I love, and that my first and foremost objective is to make them feel loved.

And honestly? It worked. It felt different. I felt different.

Letting love lead isn’t about giving in or letting things slide.
It’s not about self-abandonment or staying silent forever.

It’s about staying rooted in who you want to be — even when the conversation gets uncomfortable.
It’s about asking yourself, “What really matters right now?”
And sometimes, it’s about remembering that people change slowly — not in the middle of breakfast.

If you’re navigating something similar — whether with family, at work, or in your community — I hope this story gives you a small thread to hold onto:

You can be clear and kind.
You can be grounded and present.
You can be loving and still have boundaries.

Try it. Try the mantra. Try staying curious.
Cut yourself some slack, cut them some slack. We are all just humans trying to figure out human-ing, of course we don’t always get it right. When you stay in relationship, you get a second (or third or fourth or 700th) chance.

With love (and biscuits),
Emma

P.S. There were definitely moments this weekend when I didn’t lead with love — when I got sharp, or mean in that very specific, personal way I know too well. But those moments were fewer and farther between than they’ve been in the past. And that’s something I’m proud of. Growth isn’t perfection — it’s presence, repair, and choosing again.

✨ Reflection Prompt:
When the conversation swerves, what helps you stay grounded in love instead of pulled into performance?