Sometimes I get so swept up in the earnest desire I have to fall in love again that I overlook the ways I already am in love. This past year, in 2016, I fell in and out of love numerous times. First with a bearded man I met on retreat who opened my heart to true vulnerability and taught me how a man can love Jesus. Then with a broken girl who instinctively walked across the room and hugged me after I had seen Jesus. A glimmer of hope from the quiet girl in the bathroom as I was wiping away my tears and hating my resistance. And then the still and steadfast one who gave me strength in her wisdom and encouragement.
I fell intimately in love with the entire book of John. No reservations. No comparisons. The idea of fearless love. I felt reassured at building a relationship with an older couple, and knew, this is how in-laws should feel-this is the type of relationship of spiritual sharing I want to have with my spouse’s parents. The further I fell away from seeing every man as an option, I began to appreciate each unique quality in a person and how that challenges me. Inclinations towards sin became easier to identify. I still grapple with holding feelings of emptiness in my hands. How I can count on both hands the moments of feeling so much desire for anything other than a disconnect in my soul. What to do when you feel nothing and everything all at the same time. What would Jesus do. Wanting to be out of the wilderness. Feeling to no end.Feeling like you’re “too much.”
And then, there’s something in that other man. The one I am drawn to. The one who lights up my soul and my mind. I long for the simplicity of being around him. I enjoy everything I know to be true about him. The way he stands. Those subtle moments of him slowly handing me his ugly. How he smirks at me. How I feel like every moment has led up to looking him in the eyes.
And then there’s the love I’m building in myself. In the waiting. In the hope. I’ve always been persistent but not always hopeful. It’s not a word I would use. It’s not a fair word. People tend to keep it in their pocket and pull it out when they need it. They say look what I have. I say look what I lack. How do I get those things? What do people say about me? About the ways I hand them pieces of truth like presents on Christmas Eve. For all the observations, do I let myself be seen?