Many are gathered at this well today.
Many gather at this well every day.
A dear friend whose daughter transitioned last night, far too soon as we think in years.
Close friends who have had to say goodbye to beloved pets.
An island besieged by natural devastation on top of natural devastation, the latest of all the places around this planet where the disruption and loss are beyond comprehension.
The poignant services and processions for Queen Elizabeth, who began her reign when I was only 3.
Small and big voids I am acutely aware of this week, a week that seems to be pulling me into meditations on this word, on this way of being, grateful for its existence.
Comfort is longed for, needed, sought, welcomed and also given freely so many times of our lives.
What struck me today as this word, this quality of presence and offering, has been circling through the hours is that comfort is a companion.
It is a companion that comes in many forms and from myriad sources.
Comfort exists almost as if alive.
It is a gift.
Comfort comes through words and is also wordless.
Comfort lightens a burden even when it cannot remove the burden.
Comfort has the capacity to dull or quiet fears.
Comfort eases loss even when it cannot take it away.
Comfort is often like a salve or a luscious, soft shawl.
Comfort embraces others just as they are and demands nothing.
Comfort is presence. It might be the presence of another or of music or a stuffed animal or book or nature or perhaps even a hot cup of tea and a sunset or sunrise.
I invite you to join me this week at this well, whether to be sustained or to draw from it to carry with you to share.
If it is to be sustained, may comfort be your companion when you are awake and like a blanket as you sleep.
Photo: As I was walking the other day and looked up at the sky, I imagined angels flying above me, one of my sources of comfort.