I’ve been humming a song all week, from the rock group Train. It ends with these words:
Underneath every word – Somebody’s heart’s been broken -With or without words, we try to forgive -Words – They’ll try to shake you – Don’t let them break you – Or stop your world from turning – When words – keep you from feeling good – Use them as firewood – And let ’em burn – Let them burn – Let them burn.
Words are so important to me. They are the means to clear communication, and the way we build someone up or tear them down. How we use them – properly or improperly – our tone, our motivation, all determine what will be heard.
Something’s going through my head here, and I am unable to communicate it. This is not an everyday occurrence for me.
Two events really upset me last week, and I want to say something. Both were very minor events. I’m sure the others involved didn’t even notice there was an issue. But I realized how very sensitive I am to the power of words.
I have spent all week turning verbiage over in my head, writing stuff down, and editing it back out. What I have to say must come out, but it cannot be spoken in anger. I must not stab someone who accidentally stepped on my foot, regardless of my pain. But yet I want to get my point across, too.
I’ve had really clear moments where everything comes right out on paper, and then really sane moments when I realize that what I wrote was not what I meant. I put down nearly 1500 words Monday on a tangent. I’ve lost sleep over this, dreamed about it, and walked miles on my road trying to clear my head.
I’ve taken some homeopathic remedies to detoxify myself in case all of this is just some farmer’s pesticides screwing with my head.
I’ve eaten too much chocolate, and then stayed away from chocolate. I won’t do that again. The latter, I mean. I went for a drive in the rain with the windows down and my hand out the window. That was lovely. I felt much better then.
But the minute I walked in the door, the thoughts returned, crying to be put down. I must define my issue clearly and then keep my illustrations clear. I must stay on track, which is hard to do when emotions tangle themselves in. There is so much pain and turmoil around me that I find myself easily distracted onto the needs of friends going through situations that overlap onto mine, but are still distinct. I must dissociate myself from them momentarily to focus on what’s in my heart – but I can’t.
I am haunted by the fact that when God’s voice is unclear, it means I’m off track. Where did I lose the trail? What of this is purposeful, and I’m not seeing?
I am comforted by the knowledge that, no matter how off the path I get, He will still hear me and be with me. Jonah didn’t want to go to Nineveh for any reason. He took the first ship going as far the other direction as possible. But God did not abandon him; He still brought him to where he needed to be. Of course, it didn’t look like that to Jonah when he suicidally told the sailors to consign him to the deep and then the big fish ate him. I’d be pretty disappointed to find I was still coherent while being fish guts.
But his prayers were heard even from the bottom of the ocean. And then God deposited him in Nineveh, stinking and wiser.
The point of this post? Be patient with me for a moment while I try to get this out. I may smell of stress and chocolate when I emerge, but hopefully I’ll be wiser.