When There Are No Words
Somedays there are no words. No understanding. No great revelations or laugh-worthy mentionings (wait, I don’t even think that’s a word.) And so here I am.
Making up words. Because somedays. There are no words.
The are questions. There is How? and Why? and What If? and no seriously, How? and Why? and What the ?
Just kidding. I don’t say that word.
My mom texted me yesterday and said “Please call when you get a chance.”
And I texted back. “I don’t want to, but thanks anyway.”
And then I deleted it and texted back. “Sure thing.”
Because somedays there are no words. And it’s hard to talk and it’s hard to write and that’s when you go to the Word and that’s when you go for a walk.
Emma Claire tight-bundled in her super-soft Christmas blanket. Coulter hooded up in Under Armour and shorts because that’s all he’ll wear and Tiger trying mightily to break free from the strains of being leashed.
And we head out.
And it’s not pretty. Tiger’s leash gets stuck in the stroller.
Messy-tangled, I sit on the sidewalk half-convinced that we’ll never get home.
But victory of victories, it comes free.
Emma Claire’s blanket gets caught in the stroller. I don’t notice the gradual dropping, lower, lower until WHAM! The stroller stops short and I go flying and Emma Claire goes flying and Tiger, un-leashed at last goes free-running.
Coulter turns back and looks at us as if he’s 37 instead of just 7, his eyes pleading as if to say, “Seriously, what am I going to do with y’all?”
But he doesn’t say a word. He turns on his heels and together, out little band of three, yes together, we untangle Christmas trees and ornaments and we brush off dirt and we brush off leaves and we wipe off tears and—
We catch the dog.
And then I look up.
The sky bursting and mingling and telling a story of so much God in our little piece of sky and it was a picture from the heavens.
A picture of hope.
Because somedays. There just aren’t any words.