A River Of Mercy, A Bond Of Grief

It was a quite and lovely street

I was new to the neighborhood

Cars in and out next door gathered with somber

I inquired.

Mary Jamerson had lost a child

Awkwardly, I paid respects

Knocking softly. Pale and dry eyed she invited me in.

Introduced me to other neighbors

Food was on the table, untouched

I said all the proper things, "I am sorry for your loss; is there anything I can do; I am right next door if you need anything."

She sat quietly at the kitchen table and offered coffee.

I was amazed at her strength and stoic composure.

The door bell rang. Someone called to Mary, "Gracie is here."

Mary's face exploded with emotion. She rose and walked quickly to the front door.

Someone whispered to me, "That's Grace Meadows, one of her good friends who also lost a child."

They embraced, and held each other. A river of mercy and grace ran between them

In a bond of grief.

I left quietly