Have you ever been in a crowded room with people laughing and talking and everyone is talking over each other to the point that it just becomes a rumble of noise and messy words? No one is really talking about anything – they’re just trying to talk loud enough so that they can be heard, regardless of topic.

I’ve been here, many times. Except, I’ve been in the background of the messiness just listening to the thunder of voices pass through me. I’m there listening for depth and meaning and cultivating answers and thoughtful words to say.  But I miss out. I move too slowly. I think too deeply. Everyone else is louder than I am. They’re quicker. They all have motivation to make their voice heard regardless of topic – they’re just ready to move on to the next story or anecdote or complaint. Or simply, they believe their thoughts and words are more valuable than mine.

I feel like my entire life has been a cycle of scrutinizing on the outskirts of these situations and wishing I could be like those other people. The loudest. The funniest. The quickest to jump in. I’ve wanted my voice to be heard – everyone does. Everyone wants to believe that their thoughts are craved by others and that they have a place.

I’ve always felt this on a smaller scale – parties, lunch room chats, office gatherings. Me, standing in the circle, having just as much right as anyone else to contribute and be heard, but feeling like I don’t matter because maybe I’m not loud enough or in line enough to feel like I fit in.

I want to avoid making grand judgements and morose declarations about the state of country – but I find myself feeling the same thing I feel at a smaller scale more frequently now. I feel it more intensely than I ever have before.

I hear roaring proclamations and hurried responses but I feel myself longing for substance. I yearn for slowness and a peaceful voice. Occasionally, I hear a small inkling of what could be something great – only for the next big thing to come around and squash that minute feeling of hope.

Simply, I’m tired of all of the yelling. My ears are becoming deaf because I can’t seem to find anything for them to latch on to long enough for it to grow. I’ve withdrawn myself even smaller than I ever have before because I feel condemned that I am not bellowing off rooftops what I believe.

I’m tired. I’m frustrated. And I’m sad.

This doesn’t mean I don’t have hope. Because there is always hope in God. Truthfully, I struggle daily to continue to find this hope in a swirl of information and words. I am not expressing the fact that voices should not want to be heard, or that loudness could not be effective. Because sometimes it is what is needed.

However, I am declaring that the constant assessments of other’s lives and integrity because of something so varied is useless. We aren’t listening to each other anymore. No one is willingly to change their thoughts or behaviors any longer. We want someone else to change for us so that others can conform to what direction we feel the world should go in.

We’ve all been lost to each other. I have hope that this won’t continue forever, that eventually the rumble of the party will die down to a whisper and we’ll be able to hear each other again. But in the meantime, I will wait. I will continue to be the noiseless tortoise in a world full of rowdy hares.