We have a fundamental longing to be heard and known and understood. In pain and trial, we feel trapped and alone, aching for someone to come into our cave, someone to hear our cries. In joy and celebration, the joy is less full when there aren't others to share in it with us.
These words, from the song "Calling" by Strung Out, jumped out at me today:
"I sold my voice to pay for my security
now I write my sentence on its walls
I'm calling, is anybody out there?
Is anybody tuning in?"
In this age, where there is brokenness and loss, where we are not enjoying communion with God in the way that we will in the age to come, where we are not enjoying communion with other people in the way we will in the age to come, where relationships are strained, where people sit in silent desperation and longing behind the smiles of their Facebook status, what can one do but call out inside. Yet who will hear it? It is written on our walls, on our face perhaps, but we press on, don't we?
So here I am, today. And you know, there are many things in my life to be thankful for. But I am broken and longing inside. This isn't how I wanted things to be. (the rest has been hidden)