A lament

Someone beloved and critically important in my faith community was injured today, and lies in critical condition in an intensive care unit. It doesn't really matter the how or the why; the what sat in my darkened car with me as I returned home from a vigil for him, and I'm sure I'll find it waiting there in the morning when I go back.

To think of him is to think of sanctuary. He has protected me on more than one occasion. I had the privilege of teaching one of his daughters, the same clear blue light in her eyes that illumines his own (though I use "teaching" loosely here: Calla had everything she'd ever need when she came to me at 17). When he prays, knots loosen and problems resolve. When he speaks, tears spring from his eyes as life flows through him, unimpeded. We all see him as an angel, lover of baseball and flawed humanity.

My words are hollow. If prayer is presence, my heart is open and listening, Lord, and that hurts, but it is good. I lift him up to You. I lift up his family, his countless friends, his sacred, beautiful life.

Shalom.