There is a family of five that lives a stone’s throw away from us, a family we have never met, that had their world turned upside-down in a moment last week.

I came home on Wednesday to a couple police cars in our area.  I didn’t think much of it at the time, but I later discovered that a neighbor, the resident of a nearby home had been killed while riding his bicycle that day; he had been hit by a car.   

He was a husband.  He was a dad to three young children.  He was a brother, a colleague, a friend.

All I could think about was the hole—the hole left by this sudden and immediate loss.  A huge hole.  A huge hole for the people who loved this man.

Today, as Jessie and I were walking by their home, it was full.  It was full of people dressed in black, the people feeling the hole left by this man.  Many people who will feel that hole for the rest of their lives.

I didn’t know this man.  I don’t feel that same hole.  But I feel my own hole.  I feel my own hole every single day and my heart is deeply grieved to know that I have neighbors that now have a massive hole too.

And my heart aches to know there is nothing that can be done to make it better, to ease their heartache.  There are no buffers, there are no easy answers, the intense agony of a gaping hole is unavoidable…

But I also know the gift of having others care about you and your loss, even those who don’t know you.  I know the gift of being loved and how God can work through that love.

They may never see my tears, they may never know my prayers on their behalf, and it may even be awhile before we actually meet, but I care about this family and their loss.  I care so much!

And it makes me so incredibly thankful to all who care about me.  Thank you for being mindful of me and for giving me the space to still feel my hole.