I heard two things yesterday.
I heard from a tiny speaker two horses gallop: a mare steady and deep and a foal sure and quick; side by side, running with joy and health and hope. I heard the tiny heartbeat of our baby blended with the heartbeat of my wife. Two hearts: one tiny and strong and fast. The other calm and strong. One giving life to the other. I saw the light of joy in Jenny's eyes as she heard that tiny thump and felt what I will never feel: a life inside. The hand of God knitting together a life to our great awe and wonder. And I worshiped.
I heard the phone ring at six past eleven. A friend's voice quiet and sure. A man we know, a friend, we rent houses from him. He is dead. He was amable, kind and honest. He was 23. He was gordo. He is dead. His life taken from him. No answers. No reasons yet. His horse gallops no longer. We scramble to ask our neighbors what we need to do. How do you mourn here? And I wept.
For tears and hope speak all languages. Cross all cultures.
And today I have them both.