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For All the Words I Can’t Say

November 3, 2011

She calls me on the phone to tell me her news.  There’s a baby on the way.  It’s the third phone call I’ve received this month from a friend, ecstatic to share the miracle of life growing inside her.  I’m listening.  I’m hearing.  The pen is scribbling across the notepad in my brain, but I can’t think of anything to say.  The information is being processed…I’m thrilled to the point of tears.  But still, still I can’t dig out the words.  I’m happy and I’m sad.  I’m celebratory and jealous.  I see in her all the things I’m afraid I cannot have.

*

The meeting begins.  I’m hopeful of what’s to come.  Colleagues mingle and shuffle and talk, and I’m eager to hear about the new direction we are moving in.  It’s a direction I’ve invested my time, energy, and emotion into, and it’s a direction that carries all of my professional passion with it.  I’m nervous for the response of my co-workers, but excited nonetheless.  If people like this idea, we’re starting something new.  It’s something I’ve had a hand in creating.  It’s something I’ve contributed to.  I feel like I’m about to make an impact.

The proposal is shared.  My ideas are discussed.  The response is mediocre – no one is adamantly for or against it.  It’s not a bad response.  It’s not a good response.  The room’s reaction is tepid.  Just lukewarm water, slowly dripping bead by bead from the faucet.

A friend asks me how it went afterward.  She gives me encouraging feedback, and it’s helpful.  It really is.  But I can’t come up with anything to say when she wants to know how I’m feeling.  I think there is a reaction buried somewhere in there, but I can’t find it.  Not yet.  It’s still waiting for me to dig a little deeper and find it, and I’m just not willing to do that today.  I don’t want to say anything.

*

Sometimes I forget my emotions are stacked on top of each other like Lego blocks.  I forget that the different pieces have different shapes and different colors.  I forget that not every peg has a hole to attach itself to.  I forget that sometimes my Lego tower gets put together in an imbalanced way, and is likely to tip over if I’m not careful with it.  I forget that it can’t always be deconstructed as quickly as it was built.

So today I’m choosing to just stare at my tower and not give it any feedback.  I’m just going to stare at the friends with the babies, the anxiety of the job, the fear and the uncertainty and the jealousy of it all, and give myself permission to not give it language.  I don’t want to talk today.  I don’t want to understand how I’m feeling.

I’d like, today, to turn off my phone and my television and my computer screen and close my eyes and rest.  I’d like to remember that God is God.  That God is good.  And there are days when it is okay to let His promises do the talking for me.

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5 Comments leave one →
  1. Maggie permalink
    November 3, 2011 6:30 pm

    Lauren, I’m always so moved by the beauty with which you share your experiences! I can relate to the lack of words. It really is ok to just be and not to attach words to how you’re feeling. Thanks for the reminder!

  2. November 3, 2011 10:19 pm

    Sounds like a healthy response to me. IF. If you don’t go too long without looking, without feeling, without searching. So sorry for what feels so much like loss to you right now. Praying that there will be a break in the emotional logjam and that releasing all those lego bricks will bring peace…eventually. Blessings.

    • November 4, 2011 5:42 pm

      Thank you, Diana. It is good advice, very good advice. For an over-analyzer like me, it is sometimes a more obedient thing to take a break and be still. Thank you for your prayers, the Lord always brings peace. Always.

  3. mom permalink
    November 3, 2011 10:33 pm

    just be still and let Him hear you

  4. November 4, 2011 4:54 pm

    Ooo. One of the reasons I love reading your words is you process things in a way that really resonates with how I process them–and then put that processing into words better that I could. I so get it. The lego layers of emotions and not knowing quite how to put into words. I’m glad you’re giving yourself permission to just BE there and to Be with Him there.

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