(no subject)
Jan. 15th, 2003 10:35 amIn my last journal entry I wrote of my frustration in not having any words of comfort for my friend, whose wife had died.
I went over to his house every night to participate in a nine-day prayer (novena). Each night I would give my friend a hug, and let him know I was there. A few days ago he gave me a call and asked if I could come early so we could talk. He told me that he felt like he could talk to me because I was the only person who hadn't tried to make him feel better about his wife's death.
It always amazes me that the things we see as shortcomings can sometimes be our real gifts.
I went over to his house every night to participate in a nine-day prayer (novena). Each night I would give my friend a hug, and let him know I was there. A few days ago he gave me a call and asked if I could come early so we could talk. He told me that he felt like he could talk to me because I was the only person who hadn't tried to make him feel better about his wife's death.
It always amazes me that the things we see as shortcomings can sometimes be our real gifts.