Tag Archives: finding you

Being Real is Messy

I hate messy!

So why am I a therapist?

That’s different. I’m good at professionally helping people find themselves and fix their issues.

But I don’t like it when my kids are messy, or my friends are messy. They don’t come to me asking for help. They don’t show me their vulnerability. They want me to think they have it all together. Shoot, they don’t even know they have issues! Don’t even know…

And yet I’m called to love them.

How? How do I do this?

Do I have to just trust them? Like what I can like, and love the rest?

Really?

I can’t even tell them what I see?

“No. Not unless they ask.”

God, this is too hard!

This is what You do? Really?

I can’t do this. I don’t want to.

“That is exactly why you have to let me do it for you…and I can…if you let me.”

But I don’t want to.

“But you can choose, and I will do the rest.”

Are You saying I can’t be God in their lives?

“Exactly, you can’t, because you can’t. You just can’t. It makes you uptight and stressed. And it sounds judgmental coming from you–unless you don’t know you are speaking for Me.”

I don’t get it. I don’t know how to love like that.

“You just need to help them see Me by making them feel valued. Choose to value them because I do. I’ll do the rest.”

Does this mean that I believe I can only love perfect people?

“Pretty close.”

I made my daughter believe that she had to be perfect for me to love her, didn’t I?

“You had a lot of help.”

Please forgive me. Tell me the truth, and heal my lie that I can only love perfect people.

“The truth is there are no perfect people for you to love. And yet loving is what makes you like Me. You are learning to let me love you. Now just let me use you to love them.”

Thanks. Please heal my fear of loving and being loved.

“I’d like that; don’t forget it’s a process.”

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Filed under A God perspective, Becoming real, Love ed, Loved, Mental Health

Guest post–The Chooser becomes the Chosen in “Inviting”

You Whisper it quiet. These words that feel liquid with the weight of Your love.”you are my home”

I wonder if maybe I misunderstood. I ask what it means. And You dismantle me with Your words.

“I feel wanted, welcome, comfortable. I feel loved, desired in you. You invite Me into your moments, your feelings. You choose Me.”

And then in a Whisper that seems to crash through the Heavens. That ravages the heart You’ve made whole. You say it.

“you’re inviting”

It’s as if You’ve just flung the stars from the sky in some cosmic display just for me. Just for me.

It is all I want to be. The only words that could ever be spoken of me that matter.

And You said them.

The tears spill wild. The heart swept up by Love so big it rages through me in torrents of Grace.

I am Yours. And You have found me “inviting”.

And suddenly the list of things I could do in my life is complete.

The one thing I have to give You. The one thing I can truly choose.

Is You.

We do this thing. This asking You into our lives. We make it a big deal.

It is a big deal.

But the biggest thing. The only thing. Is what we do afterward.

You can’t ask someone to marry you and then tell them to please stay in their own house. Don’t move anything in here. And please don’t try to love me ’cause I’m busy just trying to stay numb. I don’t really let anyone get close. I’m too much, too messy, and just completely not enough.

You can’t ask someone into your home and then tell them not to sit on the furniture. Oh, and please don’t touch anything. Or move anything. Or, really, don’t even breathe. ‘Cause I’ve got this all set up here the way I need it. The way it makes me feel secure. I might even hate the way it’s decorated but please don’t change anything ’cause I’ve got it all set up to work for me this way. I don’t want to take down any walls or let more light in. And don’t open the shades, someone might see how I really live in here.

I did that. You know I did that with You. Sadly, I think we all do.

And You lived with me so long that way. Sometimes You’d move a chair. Or change a picture on the wall. But I just couldn’t let You renovate completely. You wanted to remodel and I’d say, “ok, we’ll paint but just don’t take down that wall.”

One day I got it. I really got it.

And the windows blew out and the air drafted in and the fire blazed. And I stood there hands open letting it all go.

We picked up the pieces. Crawled through the ashes. And You, You scraped the wounds. You touched my scars and deemed them Beautiful.

I’m laying here the rivers flowing down the familiar trails. They follow the grooves of years of broken dreams, a broken heart desperate to be Whole. Now, they flow from a fountain of Love so deep I can’t contain them.

I get it. I really get it.

All I have to give You is my choice. Choosing You. 

Choosing You over everything.

Even my comfort. 

Everything.

Every. single. thing.

Reckless abandon to Your Love. Your will. Your heart.

Hands open, heart surrendered. Living as an audacious offering of Your Love.

Whatever that means in the story You are writing across my pages.

Because You are Love and You only give Good. 

And I am as desperate for You as I am to breathe.

When the moment arcs and I feel the arrows pierce and doubts come I cling only to You and hold on for dear life. And You never let go.

Because anywhere with You is everywhere.

Choice.

It is everything.

Mine is You.

After all, there is only You.

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Posted By Loxlia to lovelycrumbs at 6/22/2013 08:31:00 PM

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