Ezra Malik

All weekend I've been thinking about Sarah and David. Remembering Ezra. I wish I had something profound or original to say today. Ezra is so missed. And it is so unfair that today I am going to his unveiling rather than his birthday party. And yet, I'm glad to be going. To stand with the other people that love Sarah and David and hold them close. To cry with them. I have the privilege of knowing Sarah in real life, and breaking bread with her. Sharing stories together. As I have been reading other tributes and remembrances of Ezra, it strikes me how everyone is mentioning that Sarah was one of the first women each person talked to. Sarah took the time to write and reach out. In the midst of her own grief, she brought so many of us together.

Sarah has taught me a great deal on this journey. She has taught me about grace, compassion, kindness, love, but I think most strong on that list, Sarah taught me a great deal about community, about friendship and about mothering. Ezra has an amazing mother and father. I do feel privileged to know beautiful Ezra through Sarah and David.

And so today, on Ezra's birthday, I will tell you a story about last night. Last night, as we emerged from a Jersey eatery, all bloated and tired, the rains came. Torrential and fierce, we took refuge in another chain store to buy some time and peruse books. And we heard the thunder. The lights flickered with the lightning. We waited until we saw the brightness of the sun poking through the western sky. We walked out, rain still drumming down on us, and saw an amazing full rainbow.

My first thought was Ezra. The rain and the beauty. Of course, I know rainbows mean something different in this community, but I didn't think of that connotation right then. What I thought was of God's promise of peace through the storms. I am not a religious person, but when I thought of Ezra, this is what I thought. Peace.