I can't tell you how many times I have sat down and opened this page.
I've clicked to write a new post.
The blank page pops up waiting for me to type, and nothing comes.
In my head I have plenty to say.
When I sit down, the words all seem to disappear and flit away.
I could tell you about my lymphedema flare-up.
I could tell you about my new (to me) vehicle.
I could tell you how my new (to me vehicle) is broken and the dealer we bought it from won't fix it.
I could tell you I've been getting ocular migraines again.
I could tell you about what I've knit recently.
I could tell you about the new project I'm working on with my daughter.
I could tell you we've had a few warm(er) days and it's been nice.
I could tell you about basketball seasons.
I could tell you about volleyball.
I could tell you about my son's piano recital.
I could tell you about all the things I'm baking.
I could tell you about pain.
I could tell you about anxiety.
I could tell you about gratitude.
I could tell you about fear.
I could tell you about happiness.
And yet, when I sit to tell you any of this, all of this, none of this.
It's all gone.
Honestly, I sometimes wonder if I've used up all the words I had for blogging.
Other times I wonder if I should maybe stop blogging.
How can I blog without words?
How can I find words when the world feels so much bigger than me and my words and my thoughts and my problems and my joys feel so small?
And today I read devastating news from a friend. Her precious daughter passed away. And I sit here heartbroken.
Words just aren't enough.
They just aren't.
Words have the ability to be quite powerful, to be a force to be reckoned with.
But right now, words fail me. They don't say enough for what I want to say.
So I sit silently. In tears. In prayers. Sending love. Sending so much love into this broken world full or heart ache and pain and unfairness.
And I hold on to the good things, the uplifting things, the powerful things.
Because this is life. This is my life.
And all I can do is what I can do.
What I can do changes every day.
So when words aren't enough, I dive into doing.
Doing what I can.
So I'm here. I'm doing. I'm thinking. And I'm trying to find my words.
