Wordless

Oh, friend. You there?

Your kindnesses in my inbox, the smiles in my mailbox, the strength-words on my phone. You're so dear.

I know I said just for Advent. And I am very aware that Advent became all of December, and December has now slipped into January.

A minister's wife carries many things close to her heart. She must. Her husband's burdens are her own, and though she creates a safe haven in the home, wipes clean the dear faces he loves, and dirties her knees on his behalf, the wounds can be very deep. She must wrap them tenderly and firmly. And quietly.

But friends? In staunching the flow, somewhere along the way I lost my words.

Just at the dawn of a revival of words.

I think perhaps He quieted me so I would listen.

And oh, I have.

I've wondered over the past couple of weeks when He would come to check the wound, see if it might be unwrapped, give me the go-ahead to exercise it, test out a few croaking words.

And this afternoon?

I took my girl's hand to lead her down the hallway to her bedroom for Quiet Time. She'd been twirling and pointing and leaping all morning, and now she kicked a leg back and said, Mama, we can do ballet back to my bedroom!

So, quietly as we passed the deep breaths from behind Little Man's door, we twirled and pointed and leapt, dancing to the music of our giggles.

In a few moments she, propped up on her pillow and safely ensconced behind a wall of books, suggested, You can do ballet back by yourself now!

I pulled the door quietly shut and stood there for a moment.

Then I smiled.

And I twirled and pointed and leapt back up the hall, happy tears forming by the time I finished, breathless and shaking.

And I felt the story building up inside me, saw it welling out of my eyes, had it written before my fingertips hit the keys.

How ironic is it that I haven't yet chosen a word for my year?

Rather I'm grateful just to be finding my own voice again. To frame the words.

Kind friend, thank you for being a safe place. Though I may still stutter and blush and croak, I think perhaps I've found my way back to weaving the words, my story, His story, once again.

(If you haven't been following along with the absolutely beautiful and moving and vivid letters between friends Holley and Ann, here is where to start. Words are the careful discussion everywhere right now. It would seem He's trying to tell us something. Let's listen, shall we?)

Related - other words I've been meditating on in this wordless season:
Proverbs. The whole book.
Andrea's beautiful thoughts on Words
Elizabeth's Gratitude for Words goal
Christa Wells' Frame the Clouds (click on song number ten on the player)
By Our Love, a modern hymn by Christy Nockels- Sisters, we were made for kindness...
A Cluster of Camphire: Words of Cheer and Comfort to Sick and Sorrowful Souls (gift from a precious friend who has upheld me in prayer)
(In)courage