Last week during a meeting, in the midst of a pause between words, a sound pierced the ears of all who occupied that space in a way that rattled our hearts and souls alike.
A mother had lost her son.
In that moment the fragility of life, the depth of a mothers love, and the shattering of a family occurred.
It didn't happen with the inhale or the exhale.
But with the breathe in between.
One that was held, suspended in time because no matter when it ended or started again the reality would be the same.
Heartbreak.
Devastation.
Unimaginable pain.
A family, forever changed.
For the past week that scream has echoed in the chambers of my heart.
With every layer that it touches my soul, I’m reminded everyone carries a little piece of brokenness with them.
Whether it is something they keep tucked away so no one knows.
Masqueraded with curated photos and endless scrolls.
or
Carried heavy like a weighted blanket, because holding it close is safer than letting it go.
When we experience that first sting of pain, taste of betrayal, or the constant uneasiness of lasting grief.
What happens in the span of time until we find safety to sit and rest.
What happens in the span of time until we surrender it completely and don’t pick it back up.
I can only imagine the number of “what if” scenarios that run through the mind of someone experiencing grief that can’t be given words.
How time slows down and progresses slower than it ever has in our lives.
That the canceling of plans and not returning calls becomes easier and easier.
So much so that the invitations and communication comes to a halt.
How colors fade and that with the small glimpses of joy we see, we become so scared we want to run and hide.
And yet, very few linger in the in between with those holding the unbearable weight that comes with grief.
It reminds us all too much about the pieces of us hidden away.
The vulnerability in the tears shed, thick silence of failing words, and stillness that never moves scares us.
It gives a mirror to our own souls, sitting with gaping holes needing to be filled.
Ultimately, we are terrified that a small part of us find comfort that we aren’t alone in the darkness that tries to crowd our hearts.
Although there is no one person who can snap their fingers and make it better, being loved in the midst of our own personal valleys is a beautiful gift to receive.
Whether it be grief, heartbreak, or any other heaviness and brokenness we carry, the journey should never be walked alone.
As the seasons change around us, we have a fresh and beautiful opportunity to allow someone to have room to be vulnerable, to sit in silence, and hear no more empty words.
We are all only given a single opportunity to love our community well, to show unending support, and to give them a place to be seen, heard, and truly known.
May you find the strength to be present in the most grueling moments, grace to sit in the uncomfortable spaces, and vulnerable faith to allow people to be seen, known, and loved.
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