I just came in from my morning walk.
My devotions led me to this.
The pain was intense.
Broken hearts are like that.
My friend Donny messaged me. He didn’t call because he couldn’t talk.
His son Eric died.
Five weeks in ICU.
All but a few hours in a coma.
On Wednesday, the next day, after a hard night, Donny and I met beside the road. In the rain.
He and Phyllis were preparing to go be with the surviving family a few days.
He told me about the young widow.
The four teenage sons.
The shock which was beyond any preparation.
He told me how the grief comes in waves.
How he wouldn’t wish such pain on anyone.
I didn’t have any words worthy of speaking.
So our tears mingled with the rain drops.
We embraced and muttered a prayer.
I told him I will mow his lawn.
He said “if you have time.”
As our Friend and I walked out on a Saturday stroll we were talking about inadequacy and humbling experiences. And pain. I wish I could tell you he told me the perfect words to offer but he smiled at me the way he does and said…
“Crank the mower.”