In the midst of swirling emotions related to the presidential election and other matters, I learned that a lifelong friend lost her 20-year-old son to suicide. My heart ached for her. Everyone else easily responded that they were praying, but I could not. I could only say I loved her, that I wished I wasn’t so far away, that she could count on my support. It felt so empty compared to the “power from heaven” that others were calling down on her behalf. I wished that I believed. For a moment, I wished that it was all real, that magical invisible spirits could give her something tangible — comfort and solace in her darkest hour.