I want to offer you some encouragement this morning. I want to give you a moment to smile.

I don’t want to offer you ten steps to live a better life, or eight ways to pray better, or six easy steps to get over your grief and live your best life.

That last phrase may have given you a moment to smile. Because the lists aren’t very helpful.

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Last week I wrote about caring about. Friends had provided support to a friend all the way until he died. Yesterday, a bunch of those friends gathered to say goodbye to his body and hello to each other. I looked around the room and realized that it was a room full of people who work around the edges to love and pray and care. I’ve seen a bunch of those people at the hospital. I’ve been part of some funerals where they were the next of kin. Sometimes in the room where we gathered for this friend.

It was a room of people acquainted with grief. And with God.

Some of you were in that room yesterday. It was good to see you. To acknowledge the grief we share, not just about this friend, but about your mom and your sister and your husband. About the upcoming treatments. I’m so grateful to be part of those stories

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And now I’m sitting here smiling. Because I love you.

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My friend Jim said that to me sometimes. His dad cared about him, and loved him, but didn’t always (or maybe ever), say it. Jim started saying it, starting looking at people and saying, “Love you.” Sometimes it sounds a lot like “Be careful” or “I’m really glad to see you” or “sit and drink coffee here.” Sometimes it looks like some chairs on a porch or a chocolate cream cheese raspberry pie.

But sometimes it actually sounds like “love you, Pete. Thanks.”

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Photo credit: Ben.