Words explode all over Facebook; people cry and shout and pray with their words. People deal with the unimaginable by putting sentences out there, words strung together to express pain and horror and swords piercing the deepest parts of who we are.
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But I have no words.
Me, the word addict, with no words. Words are how I express who I am, what I feel, what I want you to know. They are the shy or loud expression of my life.
But today I find no words of my own that would even come close to expressing all that there is in me. I feel numb. And guilty about having no words. Nothing to say.
Today, all I know to do is to sit with the grieving. In my head, that is, for I do not know them personally. But if I did, I would just sit with them. And hold their hand, or hug them tight, or just be there, a warm body right next to them, to remind them that they are not alone. Not presuming to know how to comfort with words, because at this point, there are no words in me for that.
Cut at the very core of all the matters, turned upside down and wrung through and through. Wordless.
But then I remember.
The Essential Word, the Word who came and became flesh so that we would indeed never ever be alone, even in the midst of human despair. The Essential Word, THE Word made flesh, He sits with us. Full of Who He is. Full of the Word.
God, the only perfect Word that is with us always.
Cultivating Thankfulness with Ann Voskamp
#397 My children
#396 Rediscovering old things
#395 The gift of time away with my husband