I don't have words for so much of what I'm dealing with and attempting to process through. I know some will misinterpret my silence on certain things to mean a lack of feeling or caring (I know, because some already have). And to that all I can say is... Usually the hardest, most deeply-felt things, are those I simply cannot talk about. Do with that what you will.

I went to South Africa last month for a couple weeks. I was there for our final week of ministry. I packed up my home. I said heart-wrenching goodbyes.

And in between all of those things, the greatest heartache I've ever known steadily grew.

Even now, I can't even just think about that time in Africa without tears overflowing down my face. It's just too hard. It's just too much.

I don't think I will ever be able to explain to a solitary soul all the layers of hard that were in those two weeks. Or anything that's taken place since then.

It makes my breath catch painfully in my throat. It feels as though someone is sitting on my chest. I can hear my heart pouding in my own ears.

Breaking hearts are anything but quiet. Under the surface at least...

Every shatter, every crack, piercingly resounds, echoing over and over again.

So know that for every second of my silence, there are a thousand deafening decibles resonating from my broken heart.

And because it's trapped inside, it reverberates around the hollow shell of me.

It's crazy-making.

And I wish I could deaden the sound...

The sound that only I can hear.