I talked with one of my loved ones last night, and I was telling her stories about David, one of the people who formed me most deeply.
I shared, “When we used to end our phone conversations, he would say, ‘Now remember, you’re loved as strange as you are.’ And then I would add, ‘And you’re loved as strange as you are.’”
Then not long after, she and I were ending our own conversation, and we gave each other this benediction, too.
“Now remember, you’re loved as strange as you are.”
“And you’re loved as strange as you are.”
The people we love — even those who have died — can show up in a variety of ways. Even a familiar rhythm of goodbye can return nearly twenty years later.
Smuggling Grace 