God of the Hovel, the Hole, the House and the Hotel, who creates a room for each of us, a nameplate, not a number, on the door, which we close to keep the noise of others out while binging-watching our own noise; though we may shed tears for the end of a season the well of our deep grief dries; Move us to go next door to our neighbor who knows only tears of aloneness. Amen.
It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting…” – Ecclesiastes 7:2
