NOTHING QUITE so movingly earths my pastoral calling as a request to be present and to pray at the bedside of a dying person. Four people today – lost for words really, all of us, gathered in a tiny space, wondering about immortal space, and newly all-mindful of the prior place we all must give to trust above words. Here in this dying, just as in loving living, are some of the moments where we affectionate earthlings encounter a loving God most viscerally; the moments when we say and mean – because there’s nothing else to say or mean – “into your hands …”