And sometimes it pours...

Last week, one of my very dearest friends had a massive stroke. He is young, seemingly fit, and in the process of starting a family. His illness was so sudden and so devastating, that it has left me reeling.

The good news is that his beautiful mind is fully intact and he is on his way home from the hospital and on the path to recovery.

It is stunning how much certain friends come to mean to you, and how quickly, and how magnificently fragile those relationships can be. Unlike with family, where you have expectations and privileges that allow you to intervene, assist, and love freely in times of crisis, friend relationships create a network of ambiguity where the boundaries are frustratingly unclear. Over the last week, I repeatedly found myself bumping up against a wall of questions. What can I do? What can I ask? How can I help? How can I be supportive, but unobtrusive? How can I be present but not a burden?

What can I do?

Because I cope with stress and grief by doing, helping, and fixing, when I find myself in the midst of a situation where there is nothing to do, nothing that can be done, I am lost. And for this person, this friend, who reached out to me when I was ill, notices things when no one else does, and whose friendship means more to me than I can put into words, the inability to make things right is particularly devastating.

It makes me understand why people pray.

It makes me pray.