Outside my window the storm has passed. There was silence. Silence as thick as the blanket of snow that fell during that night. I sat up on my bed and entered the stillness. I had no more questions. I had no answers either. But I was filled with grace. With an inward silence, blessed by my angel after wrestling in the dark. The faith of this family, resonating with the steps in the stairwell, had quieted my fear and taken me by the hand.
No wonder the prophet weeps yet —
We begin again but not innocent...
And we feebly watch for you and wait.
Teach us how to weep while we wait,
and how to hope while we weep,
and how to care while we hope.