If I could sit beside you, I would not say a word. I would simply listen to your stories, your laugh…. You.
Until you gave me that familiar pause, the one that tells me you’re wondering what I’m thinking, then, and only then, I would tell you. But, my dear, you already know.
I would tell you that you’re still healing. I’m so proud of your progress and perseverance. What you’re going through is hard — mentally, physically, and spiritually. I know it is so very hard, and you are so very tired.
I would remind you that it’s okay to feel like you’ve taken a few steps back. Sometimes, moving forward involves revisiting the past to gain insight and forgiveness—forgiving others and forgiving oneself. Other times, looking back helps us realize that we don’t live there anymore; there is nothing behind us to nourish the soul for today’s journey. Yesterday’s fields have been harvested, and you’re meant for more than barren land.
I would encourage you to reflect on how God has remained a constant presence in your life. He has positioned you on this path, so make it a path of surrender and self-love. Trust that God will illuminate the next step, then the next. Don’t attempt to rush ahead of God, my dear. Please be patient.
I would invite you to plant seeds of hope rather than doubt. You are capable of a fruitful life — make it fruit worth tasting and sharing.
I would tell you that you are strong, smart, respectable, kind, and beautiful. You will shake your head, but I want you to hear and believe it because it’s true: You are strong, smart, respectable, kind, and beautiful. Compare yourself to no one, not even to who you once were or who you thought you would be.
I would remind you that today is the only opportunity you have to actively demonstrate who God created you to be. Please do not diminish His handiwork by doubting God’s touch upon your life. Live into your calling, my dear. Live into the miracle of you.
I would tell you that it’s okay to rest. It’s okay to be upset. It’s not okay to make permanent decisions on temporary, hazardous emotions. Fear is a horrible decision-maker. Give your emotions a healthy nod, but do not camp out in the shadows of your mind. Reach out to me or someone else whom you trust. You have people who care about you. Never forget this.
I would stress that I’m with you. If you’re on the floor, I’m on the floor. If you’re on top of the mountain, I’m on top of the mountain.
I would tell you that I believe you. I may not understand your situation line by line, but I do not need to have experienced your story to believe you and believe in you.
I would tell you that loving you has made me a better person because you are made of something that cannot be kept to yourself — those who know you — really know you — are drawn to you like a moth to a light. My dear, you brighten the world.
Last, I would share with you that your presence has and will continue to impact me in ways that ripple beyond the pond and into the sea, in ways that move beyond your understanding… and, in truth, probably my own understanding.
My dear, I would simply tell you that I love you, knowing that is not enough to truly express what you mean to me.
This column was initially published by CherryRoad Media. ©Tiffany Kaye Chartier.