When my granddaughter Lindsey Albertson was two or three years old, the red balloon she was holding suddenly burst. Moments later, she came to me with the limp piece of rubber in her hand and said, “Here, Grandpa. Fix it.”
I could not explain why her balloon burst, and I could not “fix it,” but I could comfort her.
Like so many others, I have struggled to understand why precious children and adults in Newtown, Connecticut and Webster, New York were suddenly and tragically taken from their loved ones and friends by demented and deranged madmen. Even if we could explain it, nothing will bring them back. Nothing we say or do will “fix it.”
But people in both communities and around the nation are providing comfort and support in overwhelming numbers to those who mourn. They are giving of their time and resources and reaching out in a spirit of unconditional love to heal the broken hearted and bind up their wounds.
In his first letter to believers, John the Apostle writes:
“Though God has never been seen by any man, God himself dwells in us if we love one another; his love is brought to perfection within us.”
While some people who comfort those who mourn may not think of themselves as servants of the Lord, their acts of love suggest a presence of God and a goodness that comes from the heart, where God resides in each one of us.
"Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted." Matthew 5:4