Well, she is over sixty-five, Helen, and old people can’t be trusted.

It's easy to say formulaic things while perched up there on your ivory tower. It's so easy to say 1 + 1 = 2 + 1 = 3 + 2 = 5... like maybe Fibonacci had it all figured out, and if you just say and do the right things, eventually you will get the result that you want. I used to be that way. I actually need to say that I used to be guilty of thinking that way: keep praying. keep reading your Bible. meditate on scripture. What do you do, my friends, when your alabaster box breaks, but Jesus' feet aren't where you thought they were? What do you do when the outpouring of your soul begins, but your most trusted and dearest friend isn't there catching your tears on his skin? Then you look around, and even people you trusted are holding stones? Stones of selfishness, misunderstanding, their own pain, judgment, and you can see lack of empathy  in their eyes...and the one person that is going to come to your defense just stoops down and writes "Jesus was here" in the sand... Well, I'll tell you. You do what you have to do. You get by. You relearn things. You figure it out. You find out who your real friends are. And let me just say you learn that they may be what some would call tax collectors and prostitutes, but they love you unconditionally. Heck, you may look down and realize that you are the one wearing the scarlet A.You begin to realize that there is no formula for your grief. There is no calculations that equal healing, and things don't always work out in the way you thought you had been promised. I think that we must all work out our own salvation. We all handle things in different ways, we all hurt and grieve differently. During the famine and in the wilderness we find our own survival methods, and in times of feast we all have our favorite foods. Sure, I have failed. Fallen on my face. Bruised my palms. Scraped my knees. But I am still here, tripping over the Cornerstone sometimes, slamming my head on the Rock, but never, ever using a crutch. Before you judge, check your eyes for planks. Should we hang out in the tombs when we fall.... within the white washed sepulchers with the vipers? Or should we leave what may appear to be safe, try to live, make mistakes...even if it is just to get over a mistake from the night before... It doesn't matter if you understand. It does not matter if you agree. Geeze. Just be there. Be the friend that you were commanded to be. Give your coat AND shirt. But remember, maybe they are where they are because you turned around, walked away, and left them broken, hurting and alone. Maybe the very God they served is the one they felt betrayed them....do you even know what it feels like to try to rebuild a trust like that? I guess, as I climb off my soap box I just want to say... calculate 70 x 7 and get back to me.