“Hold up. I think you’re proving my point, though. Well, mine and James’s. Don’t answer, but think back for a second. Have you ever gotten angry with someone before knowing all the details? It’s like reading a headline but never clicking on the article. And what happens when you retweet or share that article without reading? And then you comment on it and someone else reads it without getting the full scoop and they’re angry, too? And pretty soon, you have a whole lot of livid people ready to take up arms against a stranger?”

No one is meeting my eye. Excellent. It’s hitting home.

“But what if, instead, we were faster to listen? To hear them out and get the full scoop … provided they are willing to give it to us?” That’s where my mom went wrong. She’s not ready to share the full story about my dad. Either of them.

“What if we were slower to speak? What if we heard some gossip, by accident, and instead of pulling out our phones to text it to someone immediately, or even—shocking, I know—maybe we checked the facts? Or left it alone because it’s none of our beeswax? Because we’re aware of the power our voices hold. Because we know the damage that could happen if we spread a lie.”

“But it doesn’t matter, Meg. Even if we don’t share it, someone will. Shouldn’t we find out the truth to help the person out?”

I smile sadly at Maddy. “Who made us the gatekeepers?”

“God.”

I raise a brow. “God told you to fact-check gossip?” She doesn’t respond, and I press on gently, “Or God told you to mind your own beeswax?”

“Mind my own,” she grumbles with a small grin.

“Ever hear the saying, ‘The road to hell is paved with good intentions’?”

They nod, a little shocked at my saying hell. I don’t roll my eyes in exasperation. It’s not their fault. Someone will report me, though, I’m sure of it. James told me a mom was concerned that I had a boyfriend and that the boyfriend was named Micah Allen.

James told her to mind her own beeswax.

Solidarity, Uncle.

“Well, that saying is pretty appropriate for this conversation. You might mean well. You might even feel like you’re justified because you love Jesus and he’s on your side. And he is. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to meddle. Or”—I make a face—“maybe meddle isn’t the right word. You should always, always stand up for others. Love them. Offer what you can. But no one needs you to perpetuate the cycle of hurt. Take a seat. Take a minute. Take a breather. Weigh the consequences.