There are so many griefs and sorrows. Sometimes they come out of the blue in a friend’s morning email. Sometimes they come from far-away lands while I’m driving to the grocery store. Sometimes they come in the middle of the night. Sometimes they come from someone close and dear. I cannot bear them. I cannot carry them. I am far, far too small.
“The rain to the wind said, / “You push and I’ll pelt.” / They so smote the garden bed / That the flowers actually knelt / And lay lodged—though not dead. / I know how the flowers felt.” Robert Frost
“Surely He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows. . . .” Isaiah 53:4