Although I do not currently reside completely behind it, it took me a while to build the wall.
Surely you know about feelings. I have them. I assume you have them. More recently, I have come to appreciate the importance of sharing your feelings in the right way, at the right time.
In a desperate attempt to cope during my changeover from English to the Spanish language, I made serious headway in the art of hiding one's feelings. It is, incoming understatement, indescribably difficult to switch languages completely and suddenly. Despite what my companions might have assumed, it is not as easy and artless as one would hope to alter a person's patters of communication on a whim.
You might previously have held important ideas. "I know things", you think. "It's bad to be late", you may panic. "We are not using our time effectively", one might suggest. These were all received with one word-"Paciencia". And with patience, the stones of silence were cemented. As I sat at my desk, waiting to leave, a brick was laid. While she brushed her hair and checked the mirror for the fourth time, I shoveled mortar into place. As we intentionally blew off a heartfelt invitation for no reason at all, I screamed in my head.
It is a lonely time in another country when caged inside your mind. Reading, praying, and writing letters only lets out so much of that wild emotion. Did I lose someone to their new baby? She never writes me. Does suffering make a person better? I often felt that it did not. However, if it did, I could only be the best.
Why do we make ourselves suffer so much? Even now I often visit my personal stress boutique.
Poor Charles. Now, when I cry, instead of sharing all those pent up feelings, I sit in silence and collect nothings together until they begin to form a pile of something. When I can finally express my burden of feeling into words, he calmly addresses those concerns individually with care and delicacy.
After these concerns are addressed with calm reason and maths, I watch them slowly dissipate into the mists around me and the tears are gone. Where did they come from? Where did they go? The devil is a pernicious one for trouble. He's is especially skilled at pulling fears from thin air.
My life is excellent and suddenly it turns, with nothing tainting my existence but fear and woeful ignorance of the future.
Therefore I say these things, though not lightly:
I hope the surgery went well. I love you.
I'm sorry about your brother. I love you.
I'm sorry we are not so close as we once were. I love you.
I shouldn't have pushed you backwards off the bench at the aquarium. I love you.
Sorry I'm crazy. I love you.
Stop worrying about coming home and be happy. I love you.
You work too much. I love you.
You are kind. I love you.
I went to a skater park and thought of you. Wear a helmet. I love you.
Keep making hats. I love you.
You have lots of kids. I love you.
They're lucky to have you. I love you.
He/she is thinking of you too. I love you.
And just remember, when you feel sad or don't think anyone cares, your Heavenly Father loves you. And I love you too.