What is seen is transitory, but what is unseen is eternal.
the shared grief of friend and stranger as we
gathered to mourn the loss of a young son.
Jack, just 16-years old,
has traveled ahead of those who love him and
will now wait for them in the unseen.
There are few things that I know for certain.
This is one of them:
Nothing will heal this grief.
But time will soften the edges.
Make them less sharp.
The cuts, less deep.
To the gift of time . . .
God's speed, young Jack.