How do you comfort a friend who has been affected by a horrific, senseless tragedy?

What do you even begin to say? What do you do?

I don't think we are taught to truly be comforters. There are some people who have learned to fill that role. There are some who has been gifted with the ability to comfort in times of heartbreak, and then there are people like me who yearn with all their heart to play the part but feel so helpless.

Society overlooks the truth of life - nothing really matters except for the people we come into contact with during our lives - for a selfish substitute. It is built into us to selfishly look after our own needs and wants, and that bleeds into relationships. Many, many relationships have no depth because they are built on what the other person can do for you instead of the person. No worries if you lose one, there are plenty more out in the world. Lots of the time you aren't friends with a person because you think the person is genuinely wonderful, you are friends so you don't have to be alone. So you can tell them all about your life. Your achievements. Your annoyances.

Except, not necessarily about the things that really matter, and with that kind of foundation for a relationship, how would we be capable of comforting each other? To comfort someone else is to dig down deep, deep. It is forcing yourself to experience empathy and to acknowledge and sometimes to hurt. Why would we do that for someone who is just there to fill a hole in our social circles?

It's true - even when we try to truly comfort, our love can't always reach down to the deep parts of another's heartache. When true heartbreak comes, only God can heal. Only God can fill the hopeless void that appears in our aching hearts. The true Comforter is God and only God.

And so, because we don't have words or actions or we can't even fathom the sorrow, we say, "I'm so sorry. You're in my prayers."

Maybe this friend is in our prayers, but if we've experienced heartbreak, we know the depression, the hopelessness, and the aching sorrow continues on long after those seven words fade from our memory, long after we are remembered in someone else's prayers, long after life moves on.

I know these things so I don't want to be apathetic. Even if I don't see her for a week or a month after this tragedy has happened, I don't want to come up to her and pretend like none of it occurred because she will never forget this. It will always be a memory that makes her heart ache. What is the point of having a friend, of being a friend, if you pretend like everything is always fine and dandy? If that is what a relationship comes down to, then I don't want one.

I want depth, even if it means hurting.

I suck at discussing the emotionally important things face to face. I can encourage. I can do facts. I can do funny, but when it comes to genuine rawness, I can't. If it does come out, it comes out in a blubbering, stuttering mess, and I feel stupid. Sometimes I attempt to let people know what I'm truly feeling or how much they actually mean to me through written word, but I end up doubting if even the recipients of my sad attempts truly understand what I meant when I wrote what I wrote. Sometimes it feels like I am writing to a wall by the way my truthfulness slides right off and disappears. I'll spend money on gifts, hoping my love and appreciation will come through, but all of it ends up making me feel naked and like I've just thrown my pearls out to the swine.

I don't know if this is just because of my personality, but I don't think it is entirely. I think a lot of people don't know how to hurt together, to be broken together. So we hurt alone. Isolated inside of ourselves. We're not suppose to be islands, but we are, and that makes the hurt last.

When I had my wisdom teeth pulled out, a friend came over with a movie to entertain me through my misery, but when my grandfather was hit by a car and in a coma for a week before he died, I was alone. I cried every single night that whole week when I'd take the dogs on a walk. Sure, I had family around, but I don't even think families know how to hurt together. When he was finally taken off of life support, my parents were down in California with my grandmother, and I was here with my two older siblings, but I might as well have been alone.

We don't know how to say when we need someone. We don't even know when we need someone.

But I said only God can truly comfort another's ache? That is true, but we can be the way He does it. Of ourselves, we are nothing, but in each of us is a small example of His love, of His grace, of His mercy. We can't fix everything because of our feeble flesh and bones, but we can be part of the band aid or the stitches.

So what am I suppose to do to comfort someone whose friend was shot and killed at random as he drove home from a youth ministry he volunteered? What am I suppose to say to someone who is surrounded by the individuals who were witnesses to the senseless tragedy?

She bears her sorrows and the sorrows of everyone around her, and I only wish I could somehow help her bear the burden.

I could never hate you
Just because you are all I lack.
I could never hold
Your gifts against you.
After all, it's not your fault
That you are who you are.
I wouldn't feel this way
If I didn't like you a little bit.
It's just your sunshine-
I am warmed by its rays
Until you turn away,
And then I'm left so cold,
So cold and very dim.
No one notices me.
They couldn't, not beside you,
But it's not your fault,
And I cannot hate you for it.
I'm just cold, that's all.
I don't know how it is
That you can turn off and on your light
Or look completely away,
Leaving me so cold and all alone.
I stand at a distance,
Watching you among others.
I am hungry for your light.
I want it. I want you,
But really, I just want your heart,
Your joy, your laugh, your light.
I guess I do want you,
But my light is not a strong one.
It points inwards not towards another.
Maybe if I had a spark,
You'd see me alone in the corner,
And the spark would ignite your light,
But I am not the same as you.
I do not hate you for it.
I just wish I wasn't so cold
And could shine a little bit brighter.

I like predictability and normal and schedules.  I like being able to know what I am doing, what I'm working towards, and what is going to happen throughout the day, even if that is totally unrealistic. Spur of the moment isn't something I do all that great with. Most times my immediate reaction to things is definitely 'no', but given time, my negativity usually dissipates, and sometimes, I'll even see the positive in these random, sudden changes. It just takes time. I need time.

I've also found I like to keep things low-key. I don't like to draw attention to myself. I'll be perfectly content to be in the background where no one draws attention to me. Even in my clothing style, I've found that I am drawn towards dark colors that just blend all together in harmony. You won't find me in vibrant colors all that often.

Yet, every year around my Birthday, I get this strong urge to do something drastic. To do something utterly different than the normal. Everyone expects a certain thing from  me; so I want to do something that throws them off. It's a strange feeling for someone whose middle name is 'don't draw attention to myself', and most times these feelings bring nothing to fruition because my other 3/4ths get the best of me.

But this year, this year was different. What I did wasn't huge or terribly earth-shaking, but it was something I hadn't ever seen myself doing before, and now, after almost a week, I like the results.

I got these violet/red lowlights in my hair. The cool thing (which kinda fits right up my alley) is they aren't always noticeable. In some lights, it's just too dark to really know if the light is shining differently on my hair or if the color is something else. Other lights, you most definitely know. Right after I did it, we went clothes shopping, and the dressing room had a certain kind of light which made me totally do a 'What on earth have I done?!?'

Sometimes it looks pink. Sometimes it looks more violetish. Sometimes it is the red I was going for, but I'm happy with the results. Maybe most people won't notice, but I'll know, and once in a while, the color might catch someone else's eye for a brief moment. It's fun.

I also cut thirteen inches of my hair off at the same time, but that's a totally different story...which...is taking a lot more to get used to. I might post a picture if I ever catch the right lighting.

I'm 21 now.

In fact, I've been 21 for twelve days now.

It's not like I imagined - this being 21 thing. I feel about the same actually, and I truly wish I didn't. I'd like to feel a little bit older. A little bit more mature. A little bit more like I have this life thing under control (even though I know of pretty much no one who has it under control).

I have this small portion of me forever full of optimism, faith, and hope. It has a full time job combatting all my uncertainties and negativities. If someone should listen to my thoughts when I'm in a situation where I'm uncomfortable, they'd probably hear: "You can do this! You can do this! Come on. You've got this. You know you do."

No, I really don't know if I got this. Sometimes I have to start filling my mind with those thoughts on the silliest, stupidest things that everybody else would be able to do in a breeze. Inside, sometimes, I still feel like I'm 6 years-old, but...each person's path is different, I suppose. Some people take longer than others. I'm one of those who must be a turtle. It's just my pace. It always has been. I keep telling people I don't do quick, and I don't.

But it's okay, I think.

So, I'm 21 now.

I've grown so much. I've come so far, but I still have a long, long, long (10x) way to go, and it's frustrating because even though slow is my pace, at the same time, my mind (and the world) thinks I should be farther along in life. Externally, I might even seem less along than I know I've come internally, and it has to be okay with me so I won't care if it's not okay with the world. I have to define my own version of success, and I know when I do, it won't look anything like the world's version of success.

And that will be okay, too,

Because I'm 21 now, and I'm officially an adult.

People will disagree with my choices now. People will sometimes think the choices I make are utter mistakes, but except for a few people I trust the most, other people's opinions won't be more important than mine because I am not a little kid any more. This is the time where my decisions involve less people and more of just me and God.

I am 21, and it's scary.

And because I am an awesome 21-year-old, I went to the Seattle Aquarium for my Birthday with the parents (who were already going to be in Seattle that day for a medical appointment...so, part of my Birthday involved hospital waiting room fun), and it was awesome and amazing, and fish are cooler than I thought (probably thanks to watching Finding Dory this Summer. Still can't remember much of Finding Nemo but watched that one once 13 years ago). So are Jellyfishes.

This stuff fascinated me as much as the actual fishes. So colorful.

See? Jellyfish are awesome!

I think these are the fish where the males keep the eggs in their mouth until they hatch and baby versions of them come swimming out. Super weird but fascinating, right?

Another example of awesomeness.

Another awesome part of my Birthday was getting a large box in the mail from my Penpal of 9 and 1/2 hours. It was unexpected, and therefore, one of the best parts. Nothing like going out on your front porch and almost tripping over a big box addressed to you (that you didn't have to pay for).