Patrick W.

“When my daughter was dying, in effect, in this hospital on the west coast, I had never lived through a time when, in any obvious way, God seemed more distant. This girl reduced to a concentration camp victim, her arms and legs such sticks, her lovely young face such a death head that when we came upon her in the hospital that first night after we arrived, I literally would not have known it was my daughter. It was a horrifying, terrifying time. Which might well have given rise to the sense of, “If there is a God, what in hell is going on? How does this kind of thing get to happen?” But instead, by grace, I had this overpowering kind of comfort. God was silent. He said nothing I could hear; he did nothing I could see. But I had this tremendous sense that he was doing all he could do without blowing the whole show sky-high.”
― Frederick Buechner, A Crazy, Holy Grace: The Healing Power of Pain and Memory