Words Have Power

Words have power. I've always believed it to be true. But now I know it without a doubt.

Words have power. I can feel them in my body, altering my heart beat, tightening my stomach, weighing on my muscles, squeezing the air out of my lungs.

DECEASED.

Cease to exist. Come to an end. Finish. Terminate.

My hands trembled every time I had to write this words in each form I had to fill out, forms applying for the government assistance that is far less than the costs of my basic needs, forms to organize bank accounts, to stop payments made in his name...

He is dead but He is not deceased I want to explain in the forms. He still exists, He still lives. He is gone from here but I will see him again. But don't write any of this I just swallow the tear and fill out the rest of the form.

STRONG.

Well fortified. Powerful. Unshakeable. Sturdy.

The pit of my stomach tightens with guilt when a well-intentioned friend admonishes some tough love through Christian cliches, urging me for the sake of my children to be something I literally cannot and do not know how to be.

The God I know has promised to be strong when I am weak. The Jesus I believe in knows what it feels like to carry a heavy cross. He knows what suffering feels like. And when I read His words I don't believe He asks me to be anything I am not. On the contrary, He knows I am broken and He has compassion on me.

Words have power. They affect me in ways that are much deeper than before. I feel genuine comfort from simple words that come from people who are well acquainted with grief.