"I don't know what to say" is what most people say when they wonder about what to do for a friend in crisis.

The truth is there really isn't much to say but there is a whole lot that one can do.

What people remember most and are the most helpful are simple actions that indicate our concern. A freshly baked casserole, a shoveled drive, a bouquet of flowers...these are symbols that can speak more fully than our language often allows.

There is something else...to simply be present to someone suffering can be the greatest gift we can give. Be present by simply listening as the sufferer pours out their frustrations, anger, hope or sorrow. Don't seek to provide easy answers or glib conclusions. Be a sponge for their emotions. Spend time just absorbing what they may need to share.

All of this takes time, of course. And that may be the true mark of friendship...the willingness to sacrifice that most precious commodity.

Over the years, I have had the privilege of attending to people who are dying. I have marveled as I watched faithful husbands, wives, children, friends, even a stranger or two, offer up their presence and sacrifice their time. They are often amply, if surprisingly, rewarded for their actions. All pretense is set aside, manners often ignored, as we face the end of our life. Affectation flees in this time of profound awareness and the truth is often revealed. I treasure the conversations I have had with people as they prepare to die. They are rich with meaning.

Once I sat at the bedside of a woman dying much too soon from cancer. She spoke of her frustration at not being able to see her children marry, potential grandchildren grow and flourish. Her monologue was interrupted by occasional tears and for that she made no apology. She recounted some of her past failures. She made me laugh as she described a time once embarrassing now hilarious. She closed her eyes for long periods and said nothing. I knew that I was in the presence of something holy, something sacred.

Lately, I have come to realize that such moments of holiness need not be relegated to the deathbed. We can capture that same richness of experience through honest dialogue and open exchange. What it takes, of course, is commitment and time. Two commodities that many of us are reluctant to dispense.

There is a helpful Buddhist exercise that brings such awareness into our midst. It is called the Bell of Mindfulness and it sits on our dining room table waiting to be rung. Each evening we gather for our meal and ring the bell. We sit in silence, holding one another's hand, and listen as the song of the bell reverberates for many seconds before fading away. This sound reminds us that time is precious and it calls us to treat this evening meal as special. The bell invites us into sacred space and holy time. The bell calls us to savor each other just as we savor the food before us.

Sometimes, many times, we don't need to say anything. We can simply be fully present to one another and in so doing, enter into the sacredness that is a part of all of life.