Heartbreak.

We all experience it, some of us more than others.

But I suppose it just comes with the territory of being human.

People break our hearts all the time, intentionally or unintentionally.

Even certain circumstances can cause us pain.

Life is never fair.

But then again, no one ever said it would be.

Sadness comes to everyone … eventually.

It finds us no matter how hard we may try to escape it.

We can lock our doors.

Hide under the covers.

Change our name.

Move away.

And still … it finds us.

We all experience heartbreak.

And yet, it should never happen to a child.

Never a child.

For heartbreak is something we discover when we are older.

A failed relationship, the loss of a parent, a pet taken from us too soon.

In writing this week’s feature article, I was reminded of something that weighs heavy on the heart, something so many of us forget in our day-to-day routines.

There are far too many young people carrying wounds that are not visible, wounds carved by words, by actions, by the cruelty of other children.

We don’t like to talk about it, but it happens every day.

Children laugh at the way another child looks.

They whisper about clothes that aren’t “in style.”

They mock the way someone speaks, or the way they walk.

They spread rumors in hallways and online, turning lies into weapons.

They exclude classmates from games, from lunch tables or from birthday parties.

And the effects can be devastating.

A child who is laughed at begins to believe they are laughable.

A child who is excluded begins to believe they are unworthy.

A child who is called “ugly” or “stupid” begins to carry those words like stones in their pockets … weighing them down day after day after day.

And it doesn’t take long before those stones become too heavy.

Self-loathing grows.

Self-doubt takes root.

And heartbreak becomes part of their story.

Yes, heartbreak comes to us all, but it should never happen to a child.

The internet magnifies everything.

Cruel words typed onto a screen travel faster than kindness.

They echo louder, linger longer.

And yet, here in our valley, I have been able to see something else, too.

I have seen neighbors stepping in to remind children how they are loved.

I have seen teachers who notice the quiet ones, offering encouragement when the world has offered ridicule.

I have seen volunteers for local nonprofit organizations stringing Christmas lights, garland, ornaments to create a place where joy can outshine sorrow.

I have seen families walking through the downtown Nutcracker Village, smiling at the whimsical figures, holding hands and reminding their children that magic still exists.

These traditions matter.

For they are not just mere decorations or passing events.

No, rather, they are lifelines.

They whisper to our children, “You belong. You are enough. You are loved.”

When a child sees kindness modeled in their community, they will begin to believe kindness is possible.

When they see joy celebrated in public spaces, they will begin to believe that joy can be theirs.

When they see adults choosing compassion over cruelty, they will begin to believe they are worthy of compassion.

Heartbreak may be part of life.

But so is hope, and when a community chooses kindness, when it chooses to uplift its youngest, heartbreak loses some of its power.

So, please, let us keep building these spaces of joy.

Let us keep telling our children how much they matter.

Let us keep showing them — through every parade, every park, every hug, every smile — that love is far stronger than cruelty.

Heartbreak may find us.

But together, we can make certain that it never defines us.

(Stenger is the community editor of the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times. She can be contacted at jstenger@heraldstaronline.com.)