I mean I care about you.

I mean I want what’s best for you.

I mean that even if you are in so much pain, so much stress, so much panic, so much grief, that you cannot find a moment or a place of peace, I will try to find that peace on your behalf.

I will take your name, the names of those you love, the faces of those who love you – I will take you all to that quiet chapel we all can find when we close our eyes, slow our breathing, listen to stillness.

It has nothing to do with how you worship God, or whether you worship God, or whether you are full of rage at God. I will not judge you and I will not try to convert you; I don’t believe you need that. I believe Mystery is great enough to encompass us all.

I pray for you despite not knowing how things will turn out – whether your heart will break even further, or whether you’ll experience something like a resurrection. I don’t claim to know how miracles happen, or how healing works.

I pray for you because of our common humanity, because I have been in that space where all I needed to know was that I was not alone, even if my only company was that unseen cloud of witnesses. I pray for you, and sometimes I ask for prayers myself.

I pray for you because, far too often, there’s nothing else I can do besides listen, and pray. Because I grieve with you and I want there to be comfort for you. Because there’s nothing I can say that is not trite, including the phrase “You are in my prayers.” But I say it anyway because I hope you will hear what I mean.

I mean you matter.

I mean I love you.