How wonderful it would be to
describe the moments within our souls that do not have nametags, labels, or
descriptions. Those moments when our hearts are full beyond simple contentment
but satisfied enough to not explode into loose exuberance. The moments when the
world is right and all is at peace, and there’s a laugh in your throat and it
is taking everything within you to not jump and dance and laugh and sing and
sometimes, because the feeling is so strong, you might just dance without the
music, and sing without written melodies. But even after, you have to stand in
silence because those motions were not enough to let out the joy you carry, and
those words were not enough to exhaust the excitement within you.
I wish there was a word for the
moments when tears trickle down your heart in the slowest, saddest, most depressing
way imaginable. It isn’t dramatic or active enough to be anguish, but it’s much
deeper than simple sadness. When the very breath you breathe is weighted by the
inexpressible pain. Even if you tried to express it, you know nothing could be
said to heal the hurt or fix the pain or make the dissonance within you
harmonious again. Nothing could suffice, because in those moments, the
fragments are too widespread to be blanketed by words alone.
How glorious would it be to
describe the moment you are taken aback by how loved you are. When a gesture
has been made, and a tear is swimming in your eye and “Thank you” isn’t enough,
and a monologue through laughter isn’t either. You just exist, hoping that somehow
they know that nothing in the world could compare to knowing that you are
loved.
And if only there were words for
when that person leaves, physically or spiritually, from your world to
another. The deep loss in your stomach,
the choke in your throat, the spontaneous and unexpected moments when they
cross your mind and tears surface and all you can think is, “why is a stupid pillow
case making me cry?” because it’s too painful to ask why you have to be here
without them.
If only words could cover these.
If only words were able to define
them, and put them into a box so everyone looking on could easily understand
how it feels to be alive.
For others to use a dictionary to
look up these words, and based on the accurate description of these
experiences, tailor their sympathy, empathy, and reactions accordingly.
But I guess that’s the funny thing
about words… you can use them all day long, but they don’t have feelings
attached to them, or experiences, or built in empathy. There aren’t words to
explain the moments that are more felt than acted; the moments that waft in and
last for a willowy moment, easy to break but strong enough to be fully
experienced.
There aren’t specific words.
But, for these words that don’t
exist in moments we can’t describe, God has given us arms. He’s given us arms to
lift as a signal for a friend. Arms, to wrap around and soothe the shaking body
of someone whose sorrow is too great for them to bear alone. Arms, to hold
tight to someone whose love has made you feel more important than anything else
on this earth ever has. Arms, to wrap another in your joy, as you jump up and down,
throw your head back, and laugh to celebrate all the beautiful things within you.
Sometimes, an embrace is the only
way to let another know just how important they are.
Sometimes, we do not have words.
But in those times, we do have
arms. We have arms to draw close, to hold near, to use to steady when we fall,
and to pick another up when they do the same.
And when arms are not enough, we
have silence.
Sometimes silence speaks the
loudest of all.
It’s a gift. Within it lives
precious, indescribable things that are a gift to watch but a responsibility to
see.
After an embrace or a tight hand
squeeze, there are times when the only thing left to say is nothing at all; to let your
presence speak for you.
In a world so controlled by what is
said, humanity can sometimes be far more impacted by what is left unsaid, and
instead, is shown in a touch, in a look, or in a silent, supportive presence.
These things are gifts from God to
us. They show love, because love that is just spoken is not love at all.Love
is shown. It’s an action. It’s a verb.
And with it, arms complete the
sentence that words could only begin.
