There is a season in every long friendship where someone we love is in the storm. Cancer. Treatment. The infusion chair. The bad scan.
Most of us send something. A casserole that goes in the freezer, a book that does not get read, a card that sits on the counter for a week. Art is different. It stays on the wall, gets walked past every morning, and does not need to be opened to do its work.
In Mark 5 a woman reached for the hem of a robe and was made whole. Christ called her "Daughter." She had not even asked. She had reached.
These are the pieces we point to when a friend is in that season. Each one carries a different moment of reach, healing, or shared grief. The wall does the work that the casserole cannot.
There is a season in every long friendship where someone we love is in the storm. Cancer. Treatment. The infusion chair. The bad scan.
Most of us send something. A casserole that goes in the freezer, a book that does not get read, a card that sits on the counter for a week. Art is different. It stays on the wall, gets walked past every morning, and does not need to be opened to do its work.
In Mark 5 a woman reached for the hem of a robe and was made whole. Christ called her "Daughter." She had not even asked. She had reached.
These are the pieces we point to when a friend is in that season. Each one carries a different moment of reach, healing, or shared grief. The wall does the work that the casserole cannot.
