A chunk of my heart

Today I am missing my friends. Not the ones I turn to when I'm sad or the ones I like to cuddle and chat with, but the ones who stole a chunk of my heart in Uganda a few summers ago. The ones who escaped war in their own country and are attempting to make a life in an unfamiliar one. The ones who don't even know how important they are to me. The ones I want to hug and just sit with and be still.

The ones who send emails saying, "Thanks for loving us and still be in contact with me. Greeting to Dv and you too." They send other emails too, saying, "Hey my best how are U. Here we are fair. We have our friend Amos sick from TB. Good bye, yours Johnny." These are the emails I fear. I am overwhelmed.

My spirit longs to comfort and empathize and say that it will be okay. Amos will get better and you will be well and you will make beautiful music that will make the world dance and sing.

But all I do is pray. And not often enough.

We clasp the hands of those who go before us
And the hands of those who come after us.

We enter the little circle of each other's arms

And the larger circle of lovers,

Whose hands are joined in a dance,

And the larger circle of all creatures,

Passing in and out of life,

Who move also in a dance,

To a music so subtle and vast that no ear hears it

Except in fragments.

Wendell Berry