There’s a song by Amy Grant titled Better Than A Hallelujah. It’s a good song in my book. It speaks to my heart these days. A few of the lyrics really speak to me specifically right now.
“The tears of shame for what's been done
The silence when the words won't come
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes.
We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah.”
Those words say it all for me right now. They speak to my heart and speak my heart. I just have no words of my own. Not to speak. Not to write.
I have been completely overwhelmed by the kindness of so many who have written to me and called wondering where I am. Why I am not writing. Asking how my sister, Kelly is. Thank you and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not writing back. I’m sorry for not returning your calls. I’m just sorry.
I am living in silence because the words just won’t come. I honestly work 12-14 hours every day six days a week. Partly because I am trying to succeed but mostly because I am trying to hide.
My sister is not well. We speak very little. I have changed from the caregiver of the family, the one everyone asks for when they are not feeling well to the one to avoid. I am a miserable mess, no help to anyone including myself. So I work. I am good at working hard. I can hide there. I am funny and witty and nobody knows the truth of what a beautiful mess I am inside. That’s all I have to say about that.
In the last six weeks, I have spoken to one of my best friends in the entire world once. Just once. Why? Because her husband is dying and I can’t take it. I can’t take the pain of losing him and seeing Lori hurt.
In the last six weeks, I have learned another friend, Dick is dying. Have I called or written? No. This man is a brother to me. His daughter is a daughter of my heart. I love them. I want to call. I want to write. All I hear is the silence of my heart so I do neither. He may never know the truth of how he has affected my life because I can’t find the words or the courage.
My dog died suddenly a few weeks ago. Just up and died. She was only three. Fat and healthy, driving me crazy one day and dead the next. I sat in the darkness of my closet and cried. I cried like I haven’t cried in a very long time. I cried that my stupid dog died before I knew what was happening. Before I was ready. I cried because I can’t talk to my sister. I cried because I can’t talk to Lori or Mike or Dick or Janneke. I cried because I am a coward and not ready. I am not ready.
God, is this a melody to You? Is it? Because this is the honest cry of my breaking heart.
