When I tried to share with her that my world was turning dark again, it didn't seem right. It wasn't the same as several years ago, but it was stifling. When I tried to share with her how dark my heart was feeling the words just didn't feel right. What I was feeling couldn't come out. I couldn't seem to express precisely what I was feeling.
I went away from my appointment feeling deflated. Feeling more empty than when I had gone there. Feeling like it was an impossible task to actually express what I was feeling. As I drove home, I thought about the many times that I have felt that way in my prayer life as well. The times that I've wanted to pour my heart out to God, but I just couldn't muster the words. I couldn't put into words the things I was feeling. Or quite truthfully I couldn't speak out the words because the feelings I was having were just that awful. I thought about my session that day. Was it more because I didn't want to admit some of the things I was feeling? It certainly was partly that. The truth was that I was feeling so guilty about what I was feeling inside, that each time I tried to form the words to say it, the words that were there would show the ugliness I was feeling inside. And admitting that I was feeling those things was too much. It would confirm to me and to her that I was broken.
At times as I've prayed, I've felt those same things. How could I go to God and share what I was feeling when the things that I was feeling were so ungodly? How could I tell God, the creator of the universe that He had made a mistake. How could I tell Him that this person He had created in His image, for His glory, didn't want to go on, and just wanted to die. How could I tell the Being who sent His Son to die for me, that I wasn't worth it?
Many times I have sat staring out the window, on chair in my yard, on the edge of our lake and my head is filled with thoughts and feelings that I just can't put into words. That I dare not speak out loud for the shame I would feel just voicing them.
And that day after being in the office, unable to find the words, not daring to speak them, I sat on the chair in my office and stared outside at the leafless trees. I watched a blue jay vie for his position at the bird feeder. I stared at the squirrel making his way along the tree branches. My heart was so full of sadness. So dark. And it dawned on me, that even without the words to speak, God knew. God knew. He knew my heart. He felt my anguish. He knew my struggles. And while there were no words to speak. No eloquent prayers to be prayed, I knew God heard me. I knew He held me. I knew He felt what I was feeling.As I gulped in air, trying to clear the weight I was feeling compressing on my chest, the heaviness, I realized that even without the words, God was hearing me. He was right there. Things didn't miraculously change. The weight didn't clear. The pain didn't go away. Truthfully nothing changed. But I did have a sense of peace that even without the words to speak, God knew. And He was going to see me through it. When words failed, God presence didn't. There were no eloquent prayers, believe me. But I know that in the stillness of those moments, with no words to speak, God heard me.
