, , , , ,

living in gratitude©

… there will be more sunbreaks, no matter how dark the day seems.

I know this because of my faith, and because of the power of friendship.

Sample: Sent a ‘happiest of new years’ email to a treasured friend in Prague.

Charles read the post about sunbreaks and said he’s adding the word to his multilingual life.

“Meanwhile, I am taking a new word you taught me — “sunbreak” into my vocabulary for grey, wintry Prague,” he replied.  “As soon as I spot one, I am going to let you know!”

Charles was a sunbreak when we met in Kabul at the start of the Afghanistan war.

He was a sunbreak on one of our most daunting trips in that country, to a place held sacred by people of many faiths, worldwide.

Charles was a sunbreak in our darkest days:  He was the only journalist to find us at a military hospital in Germany, when I was in a coma, after the Afghanistan attack.  Hadi recalls Charles’ phone call as one of the most comforting then.

Much later, when Hadi and I met his delightful wife and daughter in Prague, we told Charles how we had known from first meeting that he would be a friend-for-life.

Some friends are like sunbreaks.  No, they are sunbreaks.

TOMORROW:  How three journalists journeyed into darkness, and found light among some of the world’s poorest people