Studio Files .24

words for when there are no words.

Photo by Pierre Pavlovic on Unsplash

Friend, how is your heart these days? Heavy, tired, weary. This brokenness - this is the part that makes us human.

The tragedy in the news, the unimaginable loss and suffering - all around us, it’s cracking us wide open. We scroll through news and our feeds, witnessing humanity at its most vulnerable, most wounded, most lost. And in those moments, when the weight of it all settles on our chests like a stone, we find ourselves searching for words that simply don't exist.

But today. This week, this is precisely where we find ourselves, isn't it? Standing at the edge of bone-chilling pain, holding our own tender hearts, wondering how on earth we're supposed to show up when words feel so inadequate.

Maybe that's exactly the point. Perhaps the most profound act of love isn't finding the perfect thing to say, but simply being present in the wordless space.

Maybe it's sitting with someone in their silence, honoring their loss.

Sometimes the most healing thing we can offer is our own beautiful, broken humanity. Our willingness to be cracked open alongside each other.

There's something achingly beautiful about humans in their most vulnerable states. We're not meant to be perfect, polished beings who always know what to say or do at each moment. We're meant to be gloriously, messily human—to stumble through our attempts at comfort, to cry when we feel helpless, to show up even when we're not sure we're doing it right. In our fumbling efforts to love each other well, we create something sacred.

We become proof that even in our brokenness, we're still capable of extraordinary tenderness. Our flaws don't disqualify us from loving; they make our love more real, more necessary.

We light candles in the darkness, even when our hands shake.

We choose hope when despair feels easier, love when fear seems safer.

We become the light we wish to see, not because we're feeling particularly brave or wise, but because something deep within us knows that this is how we heal the world, one small act of illumination at a time.

In our darkest moments, we remember that we were made to be light-bearers, to carry brightness into the places where words fail. And perhaps that's enough. Perhaps that's everything.

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As an Austin-based mother + artist, these floods, these families, these childhoods interrupted has touched our community wholly. If you’re looking for ways to help, these are three great options:

Kerr County Flood Relief Fund : This fund directs donations to vetted organizations providing rescue, relief, and recovery efforts as well as flood assistance. The Fund will support the communities of Hunt, Ingram, Kerrville, Center Point, and Comfort. It is in support of nonprofit organizations, first responder agencies, and local governments actively involved in response, relief, and recovery efforts.

Therapy for Campers + Families of Camp Mystic : This fund supports the therapy needs of the campers and families affected by the flood.

Kerrville Pets Alive : This fund supports the feeding and care of homeless pets in the area.