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.