It's a painful thing to watch someone you love lose their joy.
She has many blessings in her life to be sure. Many people who love her, healthy beautiful children, a job, a place to live, beauty, strength. She is an extraordinary person who has gone through a lot in her life and who has so much to offer the world. And while she may rationally acknowledge these things, it's hard for her to really see them and appreciate them under the weight she's carrying.
I wish I could shoulder some of her burden so she could feel the wonderful lightness that comes from unloading the weight of sorrow. But I can't. God can, but I don't think she's ready to let him.
So all I can do is listen when she wants to talk, talk when she asks (sometimes when she doesn't, which is not a great quality of mine), stand beside her when she doesn't, try to remind her of her blessings when she'll let me, and pray for her when we're apart.
It's a storm. Storms aren't permanent, but they can be so destructive if we let them. They can also blow themselves out quickly when they don't get the volatile air they need to grow and linger.
I pray she stops giving her storm air soon, stops giving into the all too easy temptation of believing the bad stuff in her head instead of believing the good that's so apparent to all of us. So she can feel that weight lift and cast it aside. So she can find her joy again and lead her life where she wants it to go. So she can see herself and her life for what they are - beautiful blessings.