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These have been very sad days of late. A suicide has rocked the family. There's something very powerful (not necessarily in a good way, but in a way that you simply can't ignore) about grieving during the week of Passover and Easter. Suffering first, then a time to grieve, and then finally (or at least hopefully) redemption and rebirth. And forgiveness.

Our family has all traveled back to Pennsylvania, where Mother Nature has blasted us with 8 inches of snow. I've never seen this much snow in April, or maybe I have, and I just don't remember it. There's something peaceful about it, perhaps giving comfort to a lot of broken people right now.

I read a quote from Henri Nouwen, long one of my favorites, that seems to resonate with me this week. I'll share:

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand.

I'm almost more convinced than ever about this.