When Words Fail

Sometimes the words don’t come easily.

Sometimes not at all.

There is a measure of sorrow in my heart as I look at the world in which I live. So many things I don’t understand; so many things I wish to change but can’t.

I find myself staring at the computer screen, trying to make sense of it all and trying to put the words into proper order. Sometimes they flow with ease. Sometimes… not. Yet I carry on regardless.

The anger I feel over the way things are is tempered by remembrances of my own failings in life. Can I justify being upset over being lied to when I myself have told lies? Can I justify disappointment over those who fail to do what they have promised when I myself have done the same? Not really. Yet the hurt remains.

Sometimes in prayer I ask why things are the way they are. Why the depression; why the inability to break through as a writer. The former, as best I can tell, is to remind me of my total dependence on God for all things. The latter? A mixture of things. Refusal to become that which I profess to oppose, primarily. And I’m not easy to work with. Too stubborn in my ways; too prone to call it as I see it without regard for how laying low opinion-wise is the ticket for success. Or being so utterly obnoxious people let you into the club without knowing the secret handshake for the sole reason it’s the only way to shut you up.

Then again, isn’t one thank you for the book more valuable than one hundred thousand site visits a day to catch my latest political rant? The world is stuffed to the gills with pundits. Very few of us call out to those who were once part of the faithful but have since drifted away “come home.” Very few of us directly tell the artists who gave so much for seemingly so little that someone still appreciates and cares enough to remind all of what the artists did and why. You can’t put a price on that.

It doesn’t pay the bills, though.

I desperately need a rest, a vacation, a rejuvenation.

I want to believe it’ll be all right.

I’m tired of praying “Lord I believe; help me in my unbelief.”

I need peace. Desperately.

And so I pray. And try to write.

Sometimes the words don’t come easily.

Sometimes not at all.