When I’m up here and you’re down there, I want to shout,
“You’ll make it. It gets better. It really, really does.”
But you won’t hear me, no matter how loud I am.
Your own pain muffles and dulls the words of hope.
And so I whisper.
I whisper from my heart to yours, praying you can feel it.
I whisper to our God, praying that your brokenness will begin to heal.
I whisper not with words but with grace and love and peace.
You have whispered for me, with me.
And now I for you, with you.
“The Lord bless you and keep you;
the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you;
the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.”