buried alive.

Dear Buried,

It's amazing the way two little words in the subject line of an email can really affect me. I am often affected by your words, but usually in more of a belly laugh sort of way rather than a heart-wrenching, cry-my-eyes out way. The body of your email explained and expressed where you are right now and what you are going through, but your two little words were well more than adequate.

And in this time, between reading and responding, I sit here full-hearted but empty-handed with the "thing" or "stuff" or "answers" or "cure" to what it is that has you buried alive. Sure, I know that "I'm sorry." or "Put it in God's hands." or one of my all time favorites, "It will be ok in the end, if it's not ok, then it's not the end." are all well-intentioned and no doubt appreciated... but you and I both know that no number of heart-felt and empathetic platitudes come anywhere close to easing, nevermind anesthetizing this seemingly insurmountable pain. And it is for this inability for which I apologize to you right now. I'm sorry I don't know what you are going through. I'm sorry that the rain that began trickling down upon you has become a torrential downpour. I'm sorry that every direction in which you turn, there is grief and loss and heart ache and while trying to console and encourage those around you, you must also grieve and manage yourself. I'm sorry that I am not there right now and in the upcoming days and weeks ahead.

You're a smart girl. And I wise one. You know Who holds the future and you know the promises that He gives to us in His Word. So do your loved ones. And that is tremendous. We both know that. But if I were with you now, I would give you my entire set of brand-new Villa della Luna Pfaltzgraff, discontinued dishes, take you to a raquetball court and hand each individual piece to you to shatter against the wall of your choice. (I would insist on protective eye wear, however.) We could yell and destroy and perhaps get in a couple games of raquetball. I wouldn't tell you that I know what you're going through, because I don't. I wouldn't quote scripture to you, because I already know you're in them. I wouldn't try to console you or tell you that it's going to be ok because I don't if the "ok" that it's going to be, is the "ok" that eases your pain. And I'm so so sorry for that.

You and I. We're words people. And I don't have any. To make it better. And for that I'm sorry. I'm a phone call away. To cry. To vent. To distract. To listen..... shovel in hand and on my knees.

Ready to dig,
~Tava