I’m struggling. My best friend’s husband is dying. I feel clumsy, so clumsy. I want to help; I don’t know how. My emotions feel raw. My eyes fill with tears. I love her so much and feel her pain. “This is life,” she tells me “And it’s the pits.” I’m honest and ask her if I’m doing enough. Does she feel my prayers? Does she feel God’s strength pouring into her to feed him, clothe him, and shower him? Her petite frame looks worn out. She quotes the Word. God will never leave me or forsake me. He is my strength and my song. She tells me too many people drop by the house. It overwhelms her. She has to say, “Please don’t come.” She needs quiet and space to refuel. Seems other friends want to know their part in this too! She assures me she knows she can text me or call. She knows she can count on me. I get the text to meet in Old Town for breakfast. In the...