Like I’ve said before, I’m not giving Satan the glory of my broken heart. I refuse. My friends have all been giving me permission to just BE; to allow myself to hurt and process and miss him.. but they’ve also been reassuring me of who I am.
I’ve been really quick to reach out to people. No, seriously.
In the past 3 weeks, I’ve invited myself to 9 people’s houses. I’ve had coffee with 9 people, have stayed at someone else’s house 6 of those nights and had meals with 7 people.
What.
That’s crazy.
I’m really super asking my friends to not let me lose sight of who I am, because this breakup is hitting me hard, for a variety of reasons that don’t need to be blasted on the internet. And dang, y’all. My friends show up.
One day I was walking up the porch of my house and I saw sitting on the porch a little box with pink writing on it from my friend Katie.
So I sat and cried for a little bit, because I really really really needed that little box. I didn’t even know what was in it but I cried tears of joy that someone like Katie could love someone like me.
and then I sat ugly crying as I looked through the care package she had sent me – including a beautifully sparkly card and a letter with one of my favorite Bible verses in it. Seriously. I deserve none of this.
My mom was out of town so I was forced to stay home. I decided I wanted to have a sleepover with the Holy Spirit, so I grabbed a bunch of blankets and my Bible and some tea and refused to fall asleep until he showed up with the peace that surpasses understanding.
I was drinking tea out of a mug Kristen gave me, and sleeping under a blanket that Jami made me years ago and my favorite heart quilt that my friend Jessica made for me. and I laid there quietly, listening to the hum of the fireplace, and I said “God, why does one person’s opinion matter so much to me when so many people have gone out of their way to show me all the ways I’m loved?”
I am making mental note of it. It being all the ways I’m loved. I’m continuing to invite myself, to keep my suitcase packed, to always be down for squeezing in coffee. When the ever decreasing pain of losing someone close to me starts to creep in, I surround my heart with all the ways I’m loved – the texts, the blankets, the bracelets, the mugs, the care packages, the phone calls, the FaceTimes, the coffee, the guest bedrooms and spare pajamas because it’s too cold to get my suitcase, the meals, the time….
The lie I’ve been at risk to believe is that I’m broken and fragmented. To some extent I am broken, but I’m fall on my knees broken, not “poorly pieced together” broken. But I am a whole person. I am one whole, healthy human being who has all the love that my heart can stand (to paraphrase John Mayer). And when I think I’ve reached the end of the love people have available for me, someone opens up a secret door and I discover a whole new wing of love. It’s blowing my mind.
This is true love. This is the love that heals things and changes things and inspires masterpieces. This is the love people sing about and seek after. It’s unconditional, selfless love.
This is my song for my people, for my tribe, for my hand holder uppers.
