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In wake of tragedy: this is my wordless love letter.

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 HANNAH

I'm a writer, author, and online educator who loves helping others build intentional lives through the power of habit and meaningful routines.

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The news of the tragic shootings in Colorado barreled over me this morning. Leaving me wordless. Feeling a bit afraid. Wondering how love might block out all this fear. My only response was a love letter… for the victims. For the families. For anyone who has been impacted by the tragedy at hand. It won’t do. It really won’t do. But if we never try to find the words then they never really come. & I’ve been made to believe that love speaks louder than fear… always. 

To you, whoever you may be tonight:

There are no words for the sorrow that slips in.

Under the door. Through the window. Invading us all like this was her personal space all along. To be here. To operate here.

There are no words for the pain. For the way it sits heavy in the air as we refresh the CNN. We trace back over the news channels. We struggle to finds for things that seem so wordless.

There are no words to tell you I am wordless. That sorry feels too small. And this tragedy seems too large. And love is all I know. I’m wordless but I love you through every ounce of this thing.

There are no words for a bit of this.

This is my wordless love letter. For the pain I cannot shoulder. The sorrow I can’t hold. The only way to tell you that I’ll never really leave you. Never, never.

Wordless, so wordless. Because no matter what I type, no matter what I tap, tap, tap onto a document that is all white, all blank, all untold of the truths we wish we had the words to say—they won’t do. They won’t speak for the sorrow of lives lost. Families torn. Fear exposed. Hurt run wild. And evil so real.

The words—they shudder now. They shrink. They cry out to say, “Don’t use us. This tragedy is wordless.” But some still find the courage to beg and say out loud:

There will be hope after this. Strange to believe but yes. 

There will be some sort of tomorrow, we’ll find it together. We’ll piece it back together.

There will be some sort of sun, light at the end of this, though it’s bound to feel hollow for now.

Bound to be broken sunlight for now.

If it were quite possible, I’d find that sunlight. Crack it open now. Suck your pain up like a vacuum. Pull you close and hold you. I’ve got no words but love never really needed syllables anyway.

And so all I do is pray. Hold hands up high to a God who aches with the world today.

& pray you’re held right now. Held & held & held until the sun falls down behind the hills though she really didn’t feel like rising up today.  Held like the Mama on the subway who finds a spot to sit and wrap, wrap, wraps her arms so tight around a child she loves beyond silly, little words. She holds that child so, so good to make you think evil never existed. That good was all there was when it came to this world and how it spun.

I think of that Mama now. I think of that child now, wrapped so good in Love. Cloaked so good in Love.

The way I wish I could. The way I wish I could for you right now; taking in your tired body. Taking in the tragedy that pulses in the moment.

& so I pray for holding. In arms. In peace. In prayers. In dawn.

Don’t try to find the words right now.

There are no words for a bit of this.

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Hi, I'm Hannah

I love writing about all things faith, mental health, discipline + and motherhood. Let's be penpals!

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