Grief shuts us down, makes us unable, ironically, to receive comfort.(Irony is a tool of the bad angel - paradox a tool of the good.)
Anyway, on the way to the newly opened First Avenue Bridge I passed a garden. Raindrops on the roses leaves. Diamonds, if viewed in the right light.
("The beauty of the world/ breaks through/ my brokenness...")
I walked on to the bridge. A million diamonds multiplying in the trees, the shadow of a woman walking her dog (a woman walking her God?) and from halfway across, the whole of San Diego Bay. Then further, at the end, green and gold trees with small glimpses of water between the leaves.
The whole vista is beautiful, as is the tiny glimpse. Perspective is everything.
Sometimes the Spirit gives a garden - sometimes a bridge.