At the crossroads

Some say that tears are the first language we learn, our primordial language.  I'm thinking that this is the level at which we respond to some situations.  There are no words (other than tears) to express feelings at times like these, but societal demands and cultural norms have stopped some of us from paying attention to the value of our first tongue.

Some who know me are aware of my good friend, the one who was diagnosed with brain cancer a little more than a year ago.  His most recent surgery happened in mid to late October, and since then I've received intermittent reports of his progress (or lack thereof).

Today I received the most recent update, in the form of a communication directly from his wife.  She has asked for our prayers because today she and the children are discussing the next steps: moving my friend into palliative care.  When I received the news this morning, the tears were not far away, and I remembered the advise about letting this first language take precedence.  No human words seem to have a place at times like this, and no amount of human reasoning will change the situation, but there's also a sense that this is a moment pregnant with promise about something that is being prepared, a graced moment which is currently being lived, a chance to love and to allow ourselves to be loved.

When words are not enough, acts must take over.  Sometimes we are fortunate enough to be able to be physically present, sometimes not.  At other times, we must rely on technology to transmit our well wishes and support, and above all we offer our prayer and support.  There are times when I'm convinced that this world would rather deny the power of prayer, but at moments such as these, there is little else that makes a lot of sense.

For all that has been, we give thanks and celebrate.  For that which is, we say yes.  For all that is yet to come, we stand quietly, prayerfully and wait.