I am a writer. Perhaps not a well-known writer or a highly paid one, but still a writer. I love to write, coming up with endless reasons to put pen to paper, from lists to greeting cards to journals. The stacks of journals and stationary attest to this fact. Not to mention my obscure peculiarities about pens.
However, when people know you can write, they expect that you can also speak whimsically on a moment’s notice. But there is a great difference between the written word and the spoken word.
Often I find myself frustrated at my inability to get the words from my head to my lips. I want to speak them out. I do. But my heart is too full to speak. So I don’t.
I didn’t realize it was much of an issue until I wanted to pray. Those moments when I just am too overwhelmed to speak. Be it joyful or sad, the words don’t come easily.
Emily Freeman writes in her book of a young woman who following the death of her mother couldn’t access the emotion enough to bring it to the surface. And I understand. So often, we aren’t given the safety of even putting a name to the emotions within us, so that when the time comes to actually express them, we cannot.
Today, I was reminded of this struggle when I opened my journal to record recent events and realized that although I had much to write last Saturday, I only got two sentences out. And I laughed at how often I long to communicate and simply cannot.
I’m no better at the deep communication than my four-year-old. I stumble around and change the subject and cry rather than actually explain myself. Perhaps I have not yet learned to give those emotions a name, but what I can do, is teach my children along side myself.
Together we can put names to feelings and emotions. Together we can learn to take responsibility for how we respond to those emotions and choose to respond wisely. And be gracious with ourselves and others. Emotions are powerful – so powerful that they often take our words away.
I struggle often with my words, but there is comfort in knowing that God is willing to wait patiently for me to get them out. And while I have often stuffed down my emotions so as to avoid dealing with them, He still waits for me to be in the right place. And little by little, I get the courage to put words to the thoughts and emotions within.
Hopefully, I’ll finish writing about the trampoline park soon. I have the words for that, I only lack the time. But with those blank lines open before me, I hope that in time, I’ll learn to not shy away when the words are not there. And while I learn, I’ll be ever so grateful for a loving God who can translate tears and mutterings into something that makes a connection from my heart to His, even when there are not words.