It has been an inflated modicum of time since I last tip-typed a post. In other words, I took a pause.
Rest assured that I have been thinking of each of you, hoping for growing joy in the world, praying for those in duress and reflecting on the tune of my heart. It chirps, it bellows, it sings and it sighs. The heart is symbolically represented in so many visual and lyrical ways, yet we rarely pause to think of each ba-beat as a testament to living or to our hopes. Humbly, I would surmise that we also get busy and forget, innocently, to truly listen to our hearts.
Ok, right now, what is your heart saying? It’s ok to cry, to belly laugh, to curl up or to dance.
In an uncommon instance, I popped on the local radio station while driving. Strumming over the airwaves came this wonderful song by Phillip Phillips, called “Gone Gone Gone.” The percussion, the caesuras, the breathy delivery . . . all what an upbeat love song should be. I wept.
Defenses aside, excuses locked down . . . let’s be vulnerable together and admit that at least once in your life, a song made you cry—likely related to a profound emotion entwined with love. We all hope to feel love, to be loved and to hold on to love. If you want to disagree with me, go ahead. I will battle with angel armies to champion hope and safeguard love. Few emotions have the impact that love has—unsettling butterflies, seemingly irrational emotion, giddy bliss, intense desire, selfless protectiveness, and a need to extinguish the air between you and your partner with heat.
I have felt ugly, unworthy, drained and haven’t always loved myself. Likely, you can relate to one or more of those sentiments, past or present. Imagine me peering through this computer (or mobile) screen and hugging you with a refusal to let go. I love you. You desire and must fight to always honor, celebrate and love thyself. This is a sincere and lasting hope that I pray for you.
The arguments, the rouses, the tricks and the distractions will seep into your mind. Shut them down! You are beautiful. You do deserve it. You are a precious gift. You are lovable and must start by loving yourself—freckles, lines, curves, smile, laugh, everything. God crafted you with His hand and cherishes you in every way. Now I’m weeping again (in the middle of Barnes and Noble, mind you) at the thought of such unconditional love.
Teary eyed and unashamed, I tell you that my deepest hope for myself is to have a partner who sees the amazing things I see, adores the quirks and verbose tangents, revels in the sight of me and loves me with an unswayable vigor that would impress the titans of mythology. I am worth it and I hope you feel that way about yourself.
I know the stabbing ache of loss, I understand the pang of walking away from a relationship that doesn’t fulfill you, I stand strong after recognizing abuse, and I have bent beneath the suffocating weight of unrequited love. I continue to love every soul I have said those three little words to (and some I never told). I am blessed to call most my friends to this day. I even lingered on the words and floated on the looks of love—drank deeply of the small sips and sporadic texts—until I woke alone to realize that my heart was not nurtured the way I knew it should be.
Without a wedded partner, I have been passed up as a godmother, denied event invitations and told I would never have kids . . . and still, I love myself. Still, I believe fearlessly in the possibility (nay, the assurance) that love will meet me on my journey. I like to say that it’s just waiting for the perfect time to unveil it’s playful scheme, and for me to put the feisty aside and surrender happily to being met by another soul.
Bemoan none, hold bitterness at bay, resist the deceptive comfort of settling and let the arrows of the past fall to the ground. Love, love, love thyself. Keep hoping, keep praying, keep putting yourself out there with wild abandon. Heal the wounds with God’s love, open yourself to the love flowing all around you, and please, let your love beam to the world with a hopeful smile and a giving heart.