We all have it. It’s that thing in us that we don’t talk about because we don’t know how to put words to it. It’s that feeling that rises in us and makes our throats tighten and our voices tremble.
It’s the disquiet in our soul, the ache we always feel but never get used to; the silent companion who takes up too much room in our hearts. It’s our unspoken broken.
The mom who tries to manage her mentally ill adult son — she feels the sting, the ache. When you see her on Sunday and she smiles and hugs you and asks how your week went, can you hear what is not said? Can you hear her unspoken broken? It is there, screaming to be heard and held and helped.