I was reminded recently that in times of tragedy and loss nothing is an important as the presence of a friend. Just being there promises that we do endure, and out of the fires of hell the person is going through, something wonderful will rise like the Phoenix. In the chill of loss nothing warms us like the touch of the hand of a friend. Words are always inadequate, but a hug, embrace, or an old craggy hand like mine protects the recipient from being blown away by events.
When we search for meaning we need look no further than the touch of a loved one. My Aunt Dot once said our family had to be evolved from the monkeys because we were always touching, rubbing, and hugging each other. It’s in those touches of love we get an idea of what it is like to touch God, what the people Jesus healed must have felt.
Your friend, Webb
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