Word Search
I like words I can hold.
Books littered with multicolor flags so I can return to striking passages. Bibles in various translations, riddled with parentheses marking verses when I felt God tapping me on the shoulder. Recipe cards written in my late mother’s beautiful script. Messages scrawled by my grandchildren.
And then there are the magazines and newspapers. I have a basket of clippings: recipes, articles about healthy living (“Eat this!” “Don’t do that!”), travel suggestions, explanations of complicated issues. (No matter how many stories I save about artificial intelligence, I am not sure I will ever understand it.)
Clearly, I’m no Luddite. I’m writing this column from the comfort of my family room on a breezy November day in the hope that you’ll read it on a mobile phone, laptop, or desktop. Without the internet, my only options for sharing my thoughts would be books and periodicals.
My novels are available in e-book versions, and I always ensure that my Kindle is brimming with titles when Mr. Pettit and I embark on a journey.
However…
Words on paper convey a sense of permanence that these shadows in cyberspace cannot. Emails I intend to save can be caught up in a frenzy of deletion. But I still have letters Mr. Pettit wrote to me while on deployments and training assignments, homemade cards from our sons, and encouraging notes from friends.
Of course, all this paper piles up, necessitating regular culling. I was sorting through clippings last week, trying to decide the fate of each.
I came across several articles I saved as potential subjects for this column, all from The Wall Street Journal:
”Collectors Obsess Over ‘Reborn Dolls’; Highly realistic babies can sell for up to $10,000 apiece. Critics find the replicas creepy; others take comfort from them.” Rory Satran, August 6, 2025
”Etsy Witches Charge for Jobs, Sunshine and Knicks Wins; Spells promise love, success and revenge; $25 for a tax refund and a boyfriend,” Chavie Lieber, July 16, 2025
”My Monday Morning: Christina Ricci Got Through Rough Times by Talking to Birds,” Saira Khan, April 5-6, 2025
Each story depicts someone looking for water in an empty cup. Comfort from a doll. Good fortune from a witch. Help from a bird.
I dug down farther into my pile and a more recent article appeared. An obituary from The Winchester Star for a 20-year-old who grew up in the area. A Military Police Officer serving with the U.S. Army at Fort Drum, NY.
The son of a friend.
Her Facebook post announcing his passing hit me like a mallet to the chest. My friend, BB, and I had worked together more than 20 years ago and had renewed our acquaintance at the gym over the past couple of years. I never met her son, but we had spoken about his service, as well as her pride in him and his elder and younger brothers.
An accident changed everything.
The obituary began with biographical information: the names of his parents, his alma mater, and the details of his military service, including an upcoming promotion. What he did.
Next, we learned about his interests and personality. Who he was.
Reid enjoyed fishing, hunting, hockey, trucks, motorcycles, dirt bikes, bonfires, and being outdoors. He loved being with his family and friends and would do anything for anyone. Reid had an infectious laugh, the heart of a lion, and the gentleness of a lamb. He never met a stranger, loved ice cream, and the ocean. His bear hugs were unmatched. Above all else, Reid had a very deep faith and love for Jesus.
Oh, God, what a terrible loss.
Oh, God, what a beautiful testimony.
“Above all else, Reid had a very deep faith and love for Jesus.” That last sentence wrapped around my soul like a quilt. This young man didn’t settle for substitutes. Instead, he partook of Living Water from an overflowing cup.
As a mother, I can’t imagine the gaping wound in my friend’s heart. I don’t want to; it’s too awful to consider. As I stood in line at the funeral home, waiting to offer my condolences, I prayed for the right words. Not the most eloquent or even the most memorable, but the right ones.
I told my friend that it sounded like her son had a beautiful soul and how moved I was by the statement that he loved Jesus. Then I fumbled about, trying to make sure I hadn’t fallen into the trap of offering pious platitudes. “I don’t know if that helps right now,” I started.
“It does,” she interrupted. “I couldn’t get through this without my faith.” The words of someone who knows that the delusions of this world offer style, not substance.
As we enter this holiday season, please pray with me for all those who mourn, that they may be carried through their grief by the God of all comfort. (2 Corinthians 1:3-5)
And may the Word, the One Who cannot be contained in ink or bytes, dwell with you always.
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it…And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.
John 1:1-5, 14 (ESV)
Sunset over Bora Bora, French Polynesia
