Think of our brothers and sisters tonight.
Think of our brothers and sisters who are hurting.
Think of those who are praying for a miracle.
I think of stories I have heard recently.
One story this afternoon via Facebook: a niece of a friend in a head-on collision. In surgery. The family prays. The mother and father drive to be with the daughter at the hospital.
Another story today: a husband and wife perhaps ready to divorce. The children devastated at the thought of the separation of their parents. Tears and anger intermingle.
Precious life, so confused. So hurting.
Another story: a mother near death. She’s lived a long full life. Yet the family gathers around her, praying for…praying for…something to end the pain of already missing her.
My friend lost her grandson a couple of weekends ago. A nineteen year old shot during a party. We talked on the phone this week. What do you say to a grandmother hurting so badly she doesn’t know what to do next? What do you say?
Everywhere we turn, at times, we hear weeping. We hear hearts weeping in prayer, in sadness. We hear things not working out. We see the blood of wars, of senseless death, of expected death, of suffering.
I pray for a miracle for those who suffer tonight.
May you be healed. May your loved ones be healed. May the sun shine bright again in your heart. May the bluebirds sing and fly across the shadow of your pain, resurrecting that which seemed so hopeless once upon a time.
Sacred precious life…
Come, dear Miracle. Come.