Wendell Berry once wrote about a deceased friend, “He is hidden among all that is, and cannot be lost.”
Recently, when my father was suffering from intense pain after open heart surgery, I shared with my mother the task of trying to comfort him, while also watching out for the fatigue and waning strength of my mother. It was hard.
What sustained us was not the hope for recovery, for it looked like Dad was dying and we wanted to accept that if necessary. What truly sustained us was the love that was hidden anong all that was present. It could not be ignored. It could not be lost.
Love doesn’t stop hurt; love doesn’t end suffering, yet when love is present it cannot hidden, it cannot be lost.
Once when Elie Weisel was but a mere teenager in a German Jewish death camp, he saw a young boy about his age writhing in pain while being hanged by the Nazi guards. The man behind him, walking past with Weisel, knowing Weisel was a religious lad, sneered, “Where’s your God now, kid?” Weisel thought to himself, “The God I know is being hanged with that boy.”
That’s the love that is hidden among all that is, even in pain and suffering.