Hope in Voices

If a baby is born healthy, it immediately begins to cry and scream. They've been living in a different environment for nine months, so they have to open their airways and become used to the new surroundings. They have to get oxygen flowing through their lungs. They need to breathe. As they grow up, they're never afraid to yell whenever they're hungry, tired, gassy, scared, or cold. When a young child has a need, they raise their voice to get it.

What changed? What made our sobbing word quiet? What sealed the lips of our helpless friends and strangers alike? What silenced the voices?

We did.

With our dismissive behavior. With our cruel words. With our rejection. With our harsh glances. With our refusal to help. With our lack of empathy, we shut up the pleas that surround us every day. Now, when we ask someone how they're doing, they lie. Now, we have no idea what lies behind the plastic smiles. Now, we don't even realize the tears they cry in solitude. The cuts. The scars. The starvation. The abuse. The screams. The people around us desperately need our help, and we're not rising to the occasion. Because we can't hear them anymore.

People used to live in small cities and towns. If one mother was sick or one family lost a child, help came immediately. All around, neighbors were making meals, helping around the house, sending cards, calling frequently, and everything else they could do to support. Everyone was connected. They knew when a friend was in need. They knew what they needed. They showed compassion and love. But now, our lips are sealed.

Why? Why are we quiet amidst pain and suffering? Why can we no longer hear calls for help? Because we have shielded our eyes to the destruction and terror around us. Because we have denied the fact that we're living in a torn up world. Because we're ignoring each other.

The answer "I'm fine" so often has a million words and tears behind it. A lie masking scars. She doesn't want to be ridiculed. She doesn't want to be ignored. She doesn't want to have her voice silenced once again. So she won't even use it. She keeps her feelings to herself. She denies existence of pain. She pulls down her sleeves, plasters on a smile, and pretends that she couldn't be better.

What a lie.

In reality, she never eats more than five hundred calories a day. She exercises compulsively. She tears her arms up with razor blades. She is abused by her father daily and her mother constantly tells her how worthless and horrid she is. Every night, when the lights are off and no more screaming can be heard, she buries her face in her pillow and cries until no tears are left. She feels so alone. But no one will pay attention to her.

People have been stereotyped. Those who self-harm are "sick" and "weird." Those who suffer from eating disorders are "insane" and "stupid." The teary-eyed, quiet people are "anti-social" and "strange." We look the sufferers in the eyes and tell them that they're not worth our time. But why?

Are they truly not worth it? Do we not have the empathy to spare? Are we unable to help? Are we afraid to listen? Are we just selfish?

Whatever it is, it needs to stop. Because every single day, a boy makes another scar on his wrist. Every single day, a girl throws up a meal. Every single day, a man drinks down his feelings. Every single day, a woman washes away sorrow with pills. And we do nothing.

I would bet money that you have at least one friend who purposefully hurts themselves. And you wouldn't even know because they won't say anything about it. They have to keep quiet. Or they'll be rejected. They'll be an outsider. They'll be considered weird, messed up, and disgusting. So they go through every single day, dwelling in their own pain with no one to help them. They talk in cuts. They talk in lonely tears. And then they cover it all up.

We need to teach our people how to speak again. We need to show them how to answer the question truthfully; to admit when they want to cry. How do we do this? We need to speak first. We need to become accepting. We need to become loving. We need to be the compassionate, caring people we were called to be. We must be the hopeful. We most show those around us that we are there and we want to help. We need to teach them how to use our voices. Because once they speak, we can help change them. Everyone around us needs to be loved and cared for until they open their mouths and admit what's wrong. Hope resides in our voices. Pain dwells in theirs. Together, we can create a rescue.

If we learn to cry like babies again, if we can learn to speak up instead of masking our tears, if we can learn to love our neighbors as ourselves, then we can create a revival.

We must speak words of hope.