I don’t pray. I’m not a Christian, or anything else. But I just heard an interview on the CBC, host Stephen Quinn talking (gently) to a woman from the Philippines, working in Surrey as a nanny, who told him what it was like to find out that almost all of her family was lost to Typhoon Haiyan. She is returning to the Philippines tomorrow to take care of her 13 year old daughter. Her sorrow and her bravery made me cry as I cut potatoes for our dinner. Her dignity. What is there to do but hope that somehow the people who survived will find a way back to their lives after this? We sent money the other day. The Red Cross is always quick to try to do what they can to feed people and shelter them and make sure that clean water is available. But from this great distance — across water, acros the globe, across the cultures, from such entitlement and privilege to such utter devastation: what is there to do or say? I don’t pray but I wish there were words or actions that could offer comfort.
I don’t pray
...Theresa Kishkan 
writing is a form of supplication and honouring i think.
I think that’s true. In this instance — well, in many, I guess — I wish for a more active agency. Wish words could carry heat and food and medical care.
You’ve sent money, one kind of caring, and compassion, which is another. At this distance, what else is possible? I know how you feel, Theresa.
Listening to the news, I find myself wishing I could do more. Not just for the Philippines but…