“Almost every particle in the universe was once part of a star,” she says softly. “Every atom in your body. The metal in your chair, the oxygen in your lungs, the carbon in your bones. All those atoms were forged in a cosmic furnace over a million kilometers wide, billions of light-years from here. The confluence of events that led to this moment are so remote as to be almost impossible.” She puts her hand on my shoulder. Her touch is awkward, as if she doesn’t quite know how to do it. But she squeezes gently. “Our very existence is a miracle.”

“What are you saying?” I whisper, looking up at her.

She meets my eyes dead-on. “I am reminding you of wisdom you have already shared with us.”

“And that is?”

“That sometimes, you must have faith.”