We live in a world where we blast our thoughts, our joys, our lives, our ups and downs on social media.  We share our “perfections” and sometimes we share our struggles.  But sometimes, we have to suffer in silence. 

Dear You,

I’ve been thinking about you these last few weeks.  I know you are there, mired deep in dark suffering and struggle.  It feels as though you are slowly–or quickly–sinking.  There’s no way out, no arm outstretched to save you. Because you are silent.  This time, for whatever reason, you have to bear your deep, dark suffering in silence.  Maybe it’s because that’s what your mom always said when you were growing up.  Maybe someone told you that along your journey.  Maybe, right now, it has to be this way.  But, I’ve been thinking about you.  Hard.

To you, who miscarried, my heart aches for you.  You’ve lost your baby, you are empty and aching.  And you try to stay busy so you won’t think.  So you won’t feel the guilt creep in and steal over you.  So the ache won’t suffocate you again.  I see you.  I’m praying for you.

To you, who’s struggling with deep marital problems.  He might on the verge of leaving, or he has no idea anything is wrong.  You struggle and suffer in silence so the sweet children won’t catch on.  You waffle between praying for a miracle and despair that this is the fate of the rest of your life.  I see you.  I’m praying for you.

To you, who struggles with depression and/or anxiety.  Each moment feels suffocating, each decision paralyzing, each breath choking.  Maybe you even catch yourself thinking about ending it all.  Don’t.  Please.  Reach out for help.  Grab hold of the lifeline.  Seek healing.  You might think it’s worthless and there’s no recovering from this.  There is.  I see you.  I’m praying for you.

To you, who just received or are enduring an awful diagnosis.  Not sure what the future holds. Scared of how this will or is impacting your spouse, your children.  You carpe diem between appointments, fight the middle of the night anxiety, and struggle to find a new normal.  You are seen.  You are covered in prayer.

To you, who lost your job, your loved one, are enduring the break up.  The loss chokes you.  You don’t know what’s next.  How you will go on.  Money’s tight, bills need to be paid.  How are you supposed to breathe without your someone?  You wonder if you can die from heartbreak.  I see you and I am praying for you.

I see you on Instagram, I see you Facebook.  I see you pretending like you’ve got it all together, because right now you have to suffer in silence.  You post only the good stuff, or you post nothing at all.  Because sometimes we can’t go public with our struggles.  Sometimes, the deepest, most fruitful but most isolating and painful suffering is that which we suffer in silence.  And so you do.  You cry in the shower, shake with fear in the middle of the night.  You call desperately to Him who could provide you that miracle, take away your pain.  And there’s only silence.  More silence.

Know that I have been thinking about you.  You might feel forgotten. You might feel that no one can possibly know how much you are hurting, scared, or panicked.  But I see you and I’m praying for you.  And, whether or not it feels like it, He sees you as well.  He sees you and loves you with a love beyond all understanding.  And it’s okay to say it doesn’t feel like it, and to beg for a miracle and be frustrated by His silence.  But He is there.  And I see you.  And I continue to pray for you.  You are not alone.

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