This morning in the Times I clicked on a link about the "unprocessed grief" of the past fifteen months. (And how about the semi-processed grief of these last five years?)

I landed at an essay about how helpful it can be to tell the most loving, trustworthy people in our lives how much we treasure them. Several peoples' faces then appeared in my awareness, along with their voices, words, and caring gestures. My heart melted in thankfulness.

This week I have been praying and studying about Psalm 4, the prayer of a person who has been lied about and violently cut off from their spiritual community. One of the commentaries I'm reading invites us in such a time to expect and welcome, in our everyday lives, events that assure us of God's love.

Today, June 9th, is what our family calls Arrival Day in honor of Thomas, our adopted son who flew to Rochester when he was five, still wearing his bright blue kindergarten graduation cap.

Early in the morning, Michal and I took a sunny, humid walk in Mount Hope Cemetery to visit Thomas's grave. All of us who love Thomas miss him extra deeply today, and give thanks for his forty-seven years of life here on earth. We continue to learn so much about love from him and from each other.

When we had pulled out of our driveway to head the few blocks over to Mount Hope, Michal said, how about some music? Sure, I said. She turned on the radio. The announcer said "And now, to the Beatles." The deep opening chords gathered us up in their arms before we even remembered any of the words.

And then, we turned it up. And up again. We sang it. We prayed it. The gifts of God's love truly are all the time, and everywhere.

"When I find myself in times of trouble, mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be.... And when the broken-hearted people living in the world agree, there will be an answer, let it be.... And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light that shines on me. Shine until tomorrow, let it be."

I'd never noticed before that the Beatles have given us their own version of Psalm 4. Maybe they hadn't noticed either.

Whatever happens, God knows how to help us all with our brokenheartedness. As a friend said the other day, "God is good at that."