The story of last Friday’s tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut, continues in the news. More details come out, but we are not much, if any, closer to the why.

My heart is heavy, seeing all those young faces in the newspaper. And yes, their teachers too.

Jeff Goins wrote this week about his reaction to that news:

“I believe language has power and impact, that it can be a salve to our wounds. But not today. Today, I have no words.”

And fellow blogger, Ann Voskamp wrote earlier this week:

“I don’t know if legs can hold a heart this heavy.”

Investigators are trying to find answers—any answers that would help them solve the mystery. But who helps the families devastated by the death of their children? Who comforts the families of the teachers and principal who tried to shield the children from harm?  Who lives beyond it without being changed in some way?

The tradgedy is removed from us by many miles, but the news brings it to our homes in newspaper, on the radio and television. The people  affected are unknown to me,  and yet I am a mother and grandmother. I cannot dismiss it and go on as if I don’t know. I have prayed since Friday for those people affected.  It’s hard to find words. Sometimes just saying the words, the families in Newtown, is enough.

Ann continues:  “When grief is deepest, words are fewest.”

Jeff would agree. He adds later in the same posting:

“But we forget that sometimes silence can be louder than our strongest voice.”

He cites the Jewish custom of Shiva in which people sit in silence with those who are facing a loss. “To not say but show we are with those in mourning.”

Sometimes no words are the best when sitting with grieving. I pray that someone is sitting with those affected families and just listening.