When sorrow comes, let us accept it simply, as a part
of life. Let the heart be open to pian; let it be stretched
by it. All the evidence we hve says that this is the better
way. An open heart never grows bitter. Or if it does,
it cannot remain so. In the desolate hour, there is an
outcry; a clenching of the hands upon emptiness; a
burning pian of bereavement; a weary ache of loss. But
anguish, like ecstasy, is not forever. There comes a gentleness,
a returning quietness, a restoring stillness. This,
too, is a door to life. Here, also, is a deepeing of meaning-
and it can lead to dedication; a going forward to the
triumph of the soul, the conquering of the wilderness.
And in the process will come a deepening inward
knowledge that in the final reckoning, all is well.
-A. Powell Davies