At a Loss

It is a cruel fact of life that the soul's joy and the mind's tranquility are nontransferable. I do not often possess these things, but I have recently acquired them and expect to retain them for a little while, at least. 

Tonight, however, I would gladly give them to an old friend who has recently had a disappointing end to a long struggle. From what she says, it makes no sense to me that her search has not turned up more satisfying answers after all this time. Were she not a dear friend, I might ignorantly suggest half a dozen reasons (insincerity, impatience, etc.) for the situation's outcome. But any explanation I can imagine oversimplifies or sounds canned, and I ache that I have no answers for her.

My only thought is a favorite scripture from the Book of Mormon, and I fear to quote it to her directly (though she will likely read this blog) lest it be too dogmatic (with every negative connotation of the word) at a sensitive time: "Believe in God; believe that he is, and that he created all things, both in heaven and in earth; believe that he has all wisdom, and all power, both in heaven and in earth; believe that man does not comprehend all the things that the Lord can comprehend" (Mosiah 4:9).