No platitudes satisfy after a storm

No Hallmark cards for devastation

No words truly hold a heart freshly torn

It all feels like empty placation

4 AM. Torn by the timeless tyranny of night fears. This and that, distorted to nightmare proportions, claw my soul to some drowsy semi-awake awareness that my head is throbbing and my body shaking. Deep sigh.

“You smell good,” someone whispers, as we both move from hug to hug in the group gathering around the coffee and snacks table. It’s Tuesday night, and defying the tropical downpour outside, we pour into this oasis, thirsty for the kind of warm community that makes the soul feel seen and safe.

Then they lifted up their voices and wept again; and Orpah kissed her mother- in- law, but Ruth clung to her. Glance back over Ruth 1:1-13.