Friday, December 07, 2012


It's so quiet in my house right now.

Which, wouldn't be so incredible if, perhaps, everyone in the house was over the age of eighteen and quiet. But, as it so happens, I have outrageously loud siblings who's ages are scattered all across the board. They are fun-loving, they are full of smiles and they are full of noise.

And that's okay. Yes, this could have something to do with the fact that I am equally as loud...

In quiet moments like these I just feel like trying to sort through all the thoughts that run about in my head. I try to make sense of all the swirling emotions about different subjects, different places and different people. It's moments like these that I feel like organizing my thoughts and putting each idea into a little box, safely tucked away for later. Then there are other times that I feel like just pouring out words and writing without stopping. Perhaps, in my flurry of words, my life will begin to make more sense. I'll be able to understand things - I'll be able to see more and embrace more. I will be able to live more fully and appreciate the people in my life more deeply.

While sorting through various thoughts and "revelations" that I've had lately - I was reminded of something. I was talking to a very close and very dear friend of mine recently about life and relationships and loneliness. I was reminded once again of my propensity to want answers to everything. I desperately wanted to give this person that I love, words of comfort and words of encouragement. I wanted to say the right thing.

I think, because I tend to be on the talkative side, that people assume that I always know what to say. But, I don't and I don't always have answers. Sometimes, when my friends pour out their hearts to me and trust me with their insecurities, their fear and their pain, I don't know what to tell them. I hate it. I hate not knowing what to tell them. I dearly want to be the friend who knows just what to say and when to say it - the friend who can make someone feel better with their wise words.

I want to be that friend - but I can't - I'm not perfect and I'm not very wise. I want to have the answers because I so very, very dearly love the people God has placed in my life and I desperately want to help them. I want to comfort them like a warm hug on a cold day. I want them to know that I will always be there for them - to help and to comfort.

As I was sorting through my thoughts and trying to understand why I don't have the answers to many of life's questions, it suddenly hit me.

I don't need to have all the answers.



I don't need to always say the right thing. When a friend tells me about their troubles and I tell them that I love them and will always be there to listen and pray for them - sometimes that's all that I can do. Because I'm not outrageously wise. Because I can't pop out smart answers. Because I don't know how to fix every problem that arises in life.


And that's okay. In my quest for what I thought was being the "perfect" friend, I missed the whole point. Sometimes, our friends don't need answers - what they need is a willing ear, a promise of prayer, a reminder of God's sovereignty and the knowledge that they have a friend who loves them and will be there for them - to listen and to try and understand.

I can never solve all of anyone's problems - none of us can. But we can be there for them so they don't have to face their problems alone.

How thankful I am for friends like that.