Words fail me

Sometimes I know exactly what I want to say and how I want to say it. Sometimes, like now, I have no idea how to convey what is circulating in my brain.

This week I went to see a friend. She had just suffered an unspeakable tragedy. When I saw her I understood in a new way what grief was. Her face was blank and she looked a bit dazed. Her body was bent and still. She looked, most of all, vulnerable. She is, as I have experienced her, a completely unpretentious and “real” person, yet her tragedy had still stripped her of any pretense and she was unable to relate to anything other than her tragedy. She spoke in a gentle, thoughtful voice. She spoke in a deep, reflective manner. She was completely in the moment, totally engaged in her retelling of recent events and her response to them.

I felt for her not only a profound sadness, but a profound respect. She was, during that visit, the purest, holiest soul I have ever encountered.

And that is why I am confused. Because in her pain and sadness, I found the beauty of God’s presence.

May God comfort her among the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.

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