Sometimes

      I have written before about how I am learning to lament this year, gaining practice in grief. Sometimes (most times) that grieving comes from being here. It comes from the patient who refused to be compliant on his TB medication and died, despite all our efforts at intervention and education. It comes from the woman who comes to the clinic with a massive breast mass and almost no treatment options. It comes from the daily hurts of systemic injustice. I counted the cost of this kind of grief when I came  to Haiti. I expected it. I prepared for it.
     It turns out there is another kind of grief, the grief of not being there. This grief crashes down when the people I love more than almost anything are wading through hurt and our contact is limited to Skype, Gmail or Facebook. Modern technology is an incredible grace in allowing me to remain connected with loved ones in the States, but it does not replace sitting on the couch and sharing the hurt with them. I am nothing if not a nurturer and I was not, am not prepared for the grief of not being present. This grief leaves my heart small and shivering, to borrow a phrase from one of my favorite novels. My closest friend is walking through heaps of pain this year and I hate, hate, hate being so far away. I would give almost anything to be able to sit with her in her tears tonight. Since I can't be there with her in person, will you join me in praying for her as she hurts?