• Good News

Louella Acut

A Word For The World

Every time there is a need for me to paint myself in words, I see a blank canvas. I could paint in hues, work in black and white, or just spill everything in greys. But that’s not how I roll. I am simply nothing but a word made up by letters that took their from through the years. In my entirety, I have yet to find my own meaning. Through time, spaces begin to grow before and after me. Perhaps I am just a word and will forever remain as one. Alone and no purpose. This thought has been embedded on the framework of my mind ever since. Until I actually got to witness the reality of life at the other side of the spectrum.

It was a busy night in one of the city’s public hospitals. Within eight full hours, series of events flashed right before me and I let myself take everything in. Drops and stains of blood on the floor. Children. Old people. Pregnant women. Some random guy intoxicated with alcohol. A construction worker who attempted suicide by jumping off of the second floor of a building. A man who failed to make it through despite the efforts of reviving him. It was that night where I witnessed what Code Blue looked like. From minor and life-threatening injuries, to the birth of a life and the death of it. I was presented with an opportunity to witness everything happen all at once. I stood there open to the sight of everyone and everything happening before me. But in the stillness of it all, I knew I was specifically and strategically placed at that exact situation by God. I’ve always wanted to be in the medical field but I could not even begin to comprehend how He was speaking to me through that moment. Truly, He works in wonders. That situation gave birth to something I have been always in search for—a sense of purpose. But that does not change the fact that I am still a word and will forever remain as one. 

A word, yes. A piece that would make the greater whole regardless of how little and unworthy I thought I am or was attempting to view myself as. In a sea of confusion, lost was I who yearned to be heard. I am but a fragment of a vibration trying to contribute to the frequency. A word to the sentence of a story. And the truth is, we are all vibrations resonating individually together. A dissonance waiting to be swiftly pulled into tune. A group of words looking for meaning, not knowing that we find our purpose when we all come together. Just as how sentences made up by words assemble together to create a story. Soon enough, this blank canvas shall be filled with a story to tell and songs to sing. For now, amidst all of the noise, I will strive to make myself heard. In the quietest way possible.