Waiting.

A dear friend of mine is in the hospital, at her daughter's side, waiting. Waiting for news, waiting for tests, waiting for results, waiting for miracles, waiting for signs, ....waiting.

Her daughter had a stroke.

My fingers can't begin to understand the import of the words they just typed. My mind can't, either. That is a sentence that simply should not exist.

I can think of little else today as I sit in waiting, my gaze wandering between the quiet stillness of the snow outside my window, and the flame of a candle, lit in honor of sweet Rachel and her fiery spirit, which is burning on the window sill below.

If you are the praying type, please do so.