Dear Royalty
Happy New Year.
A new year invites reflection. It asks us to pause and examine not only what we’ve endured. We must also consider what we’ve tolerated. We need to assess what we’ve normalized and what we must now intentionally protect.
Somewhere along the way, divorce stopped being mourned and started being explained. Broken homes became familiar. Family collapse became understandable, acceptable, and too often, consumable. What once caused grief now fuels conversation.
But let this be clear:
Restoration will never be a trend.
It is far too sacred, far too costly, and far too important.
Divorce is not entertainment.
I have seen how broken homes leave marks that time alone does not heal. The damage is never contained to two people. It ripples through children, shapes generations, alters identities, and quietly redirects futures. Homes are not just places where people live, they are where people become.
So how did we get here?
How did we become a society that discusses the collapse of families so casually? How did “I knew it” replace compassion? When did watching become easier than helping? At what point did the pain of others become confirmation that we were right?
Broken marriages slowly turned into public commentary while real homes were unraveling behind closed doors. Ego grew loud. Compassion grew quiet. And silence; disguised as neutrality. became permission.
Let me be clear. This is not an excuse for abuse, betrayal, or irresponsibility. Accountability matters. Truth matters. Boundaries matter. But there is a difference between accountability and consumption. Between truth and spectacle. Between care and commentary.
We have seen the effects of broken homes long enough to know that passive sympathy does nothing. Saying “that’s sad” does nothing. Watching from a distance does nothing. Performing concern without responsibility does nothing.
This is not just sad.
These are children learning what love looks like from what fell apart. These are futures being reshaped in silence. These are destinies altered while we scroll, discuss, and move on.
And if we speak freely about other people’s homes while refusing to examine our own, we should not assume we are exempt.
If there is one focus worth committing to this year, one responsibility worth reclaiming—let it be our homes.
Husband and wife.
Mother and father.
Parent and child.
Sibling and sibling.
Restoration does not begin with loud opinions. It begins with quiet responsibility. It looks like prayer instead of gossip. Humility instead of pride. Intervention instead of indifference. It looks like tending to our own homes with the same intensity we apply to discussing others.
The enemy does not fear divided opinions.
He fears united families.
Because strong homes build strong people and strong people shape societies.
Dear royalty, this is not a call to judge.
It is a call to introspect.
To fight for love.
To protect what shapes us.
This year, may we be quieter with our commentary and louder with our commitment to healing. May we stop consuming destruction and start choosing restoration, beginning within our own walls.
God is deeply invested in our homes.
So dear husband .
Dear wife.
Dear parent.
Dear child.
This is the year to build.
Sharon Paulina Boye
January 15, 2026
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