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It was October 2013 when my husband and I were stationed at Tinker Air Force Base in Oklahoma City. I was in my late 20s; he, in his early 30s. We lived just off base in a town called Midwest City, a stone's throw from the airfield at Tinker. A large Baptist church and a football field served as our backyard. Adjacent to it, planes took off from multiple runways throughout the day. Taps played each evening.

My husband, employed by the United States Air Force, was working, which meant he was flying regularly and receiving a paycheck. Many, however, were not. The federal government had recently shut down and that left many civilians at Tinker furloughed. My next-door neighbor Terry, a man in his 60s, was one of them.

My husband and I were speaking on the phone to his parents in Michigan one night that October. We explained some of the hardships of the shutdown as we experienced it.

Of note to the flying community was the impact of uncut grass on base. Without anyone to maintain the landscape of Tinker, rodents accumulated. When rodents accumulate, their predators (birds) become more prevalent. The larger the bird, the greater the potential impact to one of the four engines located on the front of a Boeing E-3 Sentry upon takeoff and, thus, to the safety of those on board the aircraft.

All seemingly small details, but added together have significant meaning.

My father-in-law, a retired Navy pilot in his late 60s, was not new to the government's way of operating. He was also well-versed in the ups and downs of life in general. Amid our discussion, he briefly mentioned what we can do when it feels as if nothing can be done — influence your circle.

Influence your circle.

We didn't get into the specifics of what that meant from a practical standpoint, but the point was made. Two and a half weeks passed. The government figured the budget mess out. Work and life resumed.

Fast forward 10 years to October 2023. The problems of 2013 feel light compared to the weight of what's occurred since. People are hurting. It feels that fear and pain have grown with each passing year. With confusion and sorrow in our hearts, we look to those in leadership roles, whether it's our country's highest office or the local pulpit, to help solve the issues that seemingly have no end. We seek direction and purpose and seem to come up empty each time.

The answer to the problem of life as it is right now cannot be found in an exasperated and desperate internet search. It cannot be found in leaders. The answer isn't in the continuous replay of current news events. And it is unlikely to be found in the polarized viewpoints offered in a discussion among former classmates on a social media platform.

Our answer is found in our ability to influence our circle for good. It is connection. It is community.

The call to action for our society today is really a call to compassion. It is a call to directly and intentionally impact the person right next to you. This is the path forward.

It is influencing those in your innermost circle, so that they may go out and influence those in their circles.

It is filling your children's "emotional cup" so that when they step onto the bus each day, they have the capacity to fill the cups of others.

It is filling your spouse's cup. Your mother's. Your next-door neighbor's. Your grocery store clerk's.

Many different beliefs exist about the best path forward politically, as we would expect there to be. But your opinion about what should happen in Maine, in Gaza or in the White House is not as important as how you choose to influence your immediate circle today. What's most important is our ability to make the small daily efforts that better the lives of those closest to us.

Influencing your circle does not erase the pain, but it provides a meaningful step forward for today.

Kirstin Flogstad Bentlage lives in Wayzata.