I am not sure what all of this means. Perhaps nothing at all ~ but I prefer to think it means that in our sorrows we are all connected in mysterious ways:
I live in Ohio, and I am Presbyterian, and I attend seminary in Pennsylvania, where I am studying Hebrew in my school's summer intensive language program. And I am working on a certificate in spiritual direction at a Jesuit university in Ohio. And my beautiful and generous and funny son Josh died by suicide at the end of last summer. The Jewish name Joshua means "God saves." It is also a name of significance in Christianity (!), although at the time Josh and his twin brother were born, that was not our reason for choosing it.
Wayne lives in Pennsylvania and is Episcopalian and is an artist and teacher and prays with the Jesuits at one of their most beautiful ever retreat centers in Wernersville. It's due to the Jesuit connection that we found one another through our blogs.
Gal lives in California and is Jewish and is soon moving to Ohio, where her husband will continue his rabbinical studies. Their youngest daughter died almost a year ago, when she was about two months old, after a courageous battle waged by her family and doctors against a medical condition which had revealed itself before she was born. Their daughter's name is Tikva, which means "Hope." We found one another's blogs because of a mutual friend of a friend, who lives in St. Louis.
Yesterday I received a card from Wayne, a card with one Hebrew word beautifully written. Sadly, I struggle mightily with the ancient languages I am required to learn, and so I was unable to decipher it. Wayne sent me an email tonight to help me out.
The word is TIKVA: ת ק ו ה .
Some nights I feel the weight of this sorrow so deeply that I can barely move.
Some nights all I can do is hope that God's salvation means something much wider and wilder than I have ever been able to imagine.
I plan to put the card on my door at school, where I usually stay three nights a week, and contemplate tiny Tikva and tall Josh ~ and hope.
I live in Ohio, and I am Presbyterian, and I attend seminary in Pennsylvania, where I am studying Hebrew in my school's summer intensive language program. And I am working on a certificate in spiritual direction at a Jesuit university in Ohio. And my beautiful and generous and funny son Josh died by suicide at the end of last summer. The Jewish name Joshua means "God saves." It is also a name of significance in Christianity (!), although at the time Josh and his twin brother were born, that was not our reason for choosing it.
Wayne lives in Pennsylvania and is Episcopalian and is an artist and teacher and prays with the Jesuits at one of their most beautiful ever retreat centers in Wernersville. It's due to the Jesuit connection that we found one another through our blogs.
Gal lives in California and is Jewish and is soon moving to Ohio, where her husband will continue his rabbinical studies. Their youngest daughter died almost a year ago, when she was about two months old, after a courageous battle waged by her family and doctors against a medical condition which had revealed itself before she was born. Their daughter's name is Tikva, which means "Hope." We found one another's blogs because of a mutual friend of a friend, who lives in St. Louis.
Yesterday I received a card from Wayne, a card with one Hebrew word beautifully written. Sadly, I struggle mightily with the ancient languages I am required to learn, and so I was unable to decipher it. Wayne sent me an email tonight to help me out.
The word is TIKVA: ת ק ו ה .
Some nights I feel the weight of this sorrow so deeply that I can barely move.
Some nights all I can do is hope that God's salvation means something much wider and wilder than I have ever been able to imagine.
I plan to put the card on my door at school, where I usually stay three nights a week, and contemplate tiny Tikva and tall Josh ~ and hope.
8 comments:
I am speechless. And somehow not surprised at the way we are interconnected, over and over again. Thank you.
OK, so I think you passed the test. Peace.
Manna from Heaven. That's what I call those moments when I feel some kind of spiritual connection/intersection with my pain and loss. Manna apparently didn't have the most interesting taste, but it was nutritious and kept the wanderers alive in the wilderness. I just pray comfort for your aching heart.
Oh, yes...
Peace.
Glad to play a small role in this interconnected world. And wishing you Tikva (hope) and Ahava (love). That was Gal's daughter's name. I can think of no more beautiful name for her or wish for you in this wonderful webbed world in which we live.
I wish for you that the spark of hope will kindle int a steady flame.a
My spiritual director would say -- you are paying attention.......that is gift.
Gracie, a lurker
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