There is a crack in my parents' front door. The door is not in disrepair, and to most observers, there is no visible sign that the door's integrity is compromised. At night the severity and even the presence of the crack are impossible to determine. But when the sun shines, the light that presses through the crack bears an undeniable testimony.

I recently spent a few days at my parents' home. It was not a visit of pleasure but one of heartache. Close family friends had lost a son and a grandson, and I returned home to be with this family. My heart was broken. The heaviness of grief was felt with every breath. The fatigue of sadness rested on my shoulders like cumbersome over-stuffed luggage. Everything within me wanted to do something to make it better, assuage my friends' pain, and heal the brokenness. But there was nothing that could be done. All I could do was remember the wisdom of Solomon that there is an appointed time for everything, and this was a time to weep and mourn. And so, we did.