Sara was student teaching at the time and newly engaged. Suddenly everything was on hold — for her, and the people who loved her.
In the early weeks, we all wrestled with shock and terror, determined to come down on the side of hope. Her fiancé insisted they keep planning the wedding. And I did what moms do: made chicken soup and washed dishes at her apartment.
I was working full-time then and one morning was called out of a meeting to take her phone call. “I don’t know,” Sara said, “I was just swept with fear.”
“Of course you were,” I said. So was I. All day long I lurched from despair to faith and back again, forgetting to eat, to breathe.
But slowly Sara got well, and seven months later she got married. Long afterward, I asked what helped her survive and she listed the people who were close to her.
“Your voice,” she said. “Hearing your voice.”
And I thought about the miracle of fragile people helping fragile people. I think about it still.
