I wish I could say

     Muted. Floundering. So many things to say, with a complete inability to say them well, so I say nothing at all. "Better to stay quiet and let others think you are a fool than to open your mouth and prove it." Paraphrased.
    I wish I could have told my friend this afternoon that I'm praying my heart out for her. I wish I had the words so that would not bother her, only let her know God's child is pleading with Him. I wish I could have said that I wish there was a way she could know the truth and build a foundation on it. That I wish there was a way I could show it to her, build it for her.
    I wish there was a way I could tell my sister who is leaving, that I might not know how to show I love her, because I don't know how to love on her terms, and I might be too selfish anyway, but I wish I loved her better, loved her wisely. As it is, I do love her, and I hope she knows I mean that.
    I wish I could tell another sister sorry, for snapping at her this afternoon. I probably will--but not tonight, she's having fun, and it would just make her evening awkward. God, remind me. I don't want to forget this.
    I wish there was a way I could tell a second friend that I want to be a part of her life, I do, but family needs clashed with her tonight, and I went with family. I wish I could have done that conversation better.
   I regret what I do not know how to say.
   I wish I could tell God that my live was completely dedicated to Him, and I would not turn away, and have that be the truth. I wish a small thing like a stomachache did not show me how completely selfish I still am. I wish I could retell God his glory in a way that would delight his heart and change mine. I wish I had the words to help myself and the world.
   I wish my words could bring order, first inside myself, emotions and ADD thoughts brought under the framework of thought-out words. After, I wish my words could bring order to a chaotic world, healing here, smoothing there, uplifting and strengthening--or, if need be, breaking.
   I was told, recently, that I had lived "My brothers, if anyone among you wanders from the truth and someone brings him back, let him know that whoever brings back a sinner from his wandering will save his soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins" (James 5.19-20). I have never been so humbled; my reaction, me? why me? Why would God use someone like me to do something like that? I have never been worthy of doing that, that He has done so through me is heaven touching my soul and my hands, a proof I don't know how to understand. I will treasure that and be bewildered by it for a while, I think. It broke a barrier built by a year and ten months of silence for God's kingdom, of faulty foolish words and clumsy gestures. A year and ten months, with no word of God that I could hear, though I had others tell me they could hear it through me.
   If God used me to do that, logically, I need have no fear of what I cannot say. He will use me to say what should be said as I follow Him.
   But I wish I could say the right words, when called, into the lives of my friends, my family. My sisters. They're scattered across the US, and I miss them. But can I tell them I miss them without burdening their lives? Can I let them know I want to be more than an echo of friendship across a distance, and not intrude? In some of them, yes; in some of them yes--at a later time, they're not ready to open now. In some of them, possibly not. God, give me words, and give me silence, each in your will and your good kingdom; keep a guard on my tongue, and a watch on my heart, keeping both in accordance with all you desire. In the name of Christ, amen.