I wish I were a good enough writer to make some sense of times like this.
I wish my words could heal the wounds in Boston, in Sandy Hook, in natural disasters.
I wish I could say the right thing to comfort a grieving mother in the emergency room.
I can't.
The best I can do is listen.
I am reminded of the story of Susie, who returned late from school to a worried father.
"Susie, I was worried, why are you late?"
"I had to help my friend Stephanie. She lost her favorite doll."
"Did you find the doll?"
"No Daddy, we couldn't find it."
"So how did you help her."
"I held her hand and helped her cry."
My words will not make sense of this, they will not heal the wounds.
So tonight, I cry with Boston, tonight our country cries with Boston, tonight the world cries with Boston."
