Brave enough to love

I watch the leftover sunshine leave its mark in the sky behind the wings of the plane—and wish I could just leave without any ache. 

I wish I didn’t wish to see him every minute of the day. And I wish I didn’t miss his tiny hand holding my thumb. 

The more people I love, the more I’m terrified that I do. 

I find things in my apartment to throw out, give away because I’d like to need nothing. Only the essentials. 

If you possess nothing, you can’t lose as much. 

“I bet he told you to go to emerg and you didn’t want to listen because you want to do everything yourself.” He looks me in the eye. He’s known me far too long, too well. Pushed his way back in when I was stand-offish. 

I see her as I scroll through memes and other people’s memories, her post on self-reliance. Independence. It’s highly praised. Another friend tells me she has trouble being independent. 

But independence is my crutch.

Because it’s much easier to push away than to lean in close. It’s easier to sit alone than to lean my head on his shoulder. It’s easier to delete a text than to send one. To listen than to share. To know others than to be known. 

When she tells me she loves me, I know it’s deliberate. And difficult to admit. 

Like it must have been difficult when He deliberately made Himself nothing. 

When He said “not my will but yours” to give us something better. 

“How do you know if you love someone?” I ask him way past midnight on a Saturday night, sitting in the corner of the kitchen like old times. 

What he says makes me cry quietly in the bathroom later, trying to push fear back. 

Fear keeps me selfish, closed off. Self protective. 

I ask her to pray that I’d have deeper intimacy with God. Perfect love casts out fear, but I am perfectly afraid to love Him. Afraid of the cost. 

Afraid of dependence. 

“Even resting in Him feels like work to me,” I tell the group. Apathy is easier. 

I watch the leftover sunshine leave its mark in my rearview mirror on the drive home–and want to be brave enough to leave with the ache, to lean into loving Him.

I text them when I get home with the little bit of courage I have because dependence is only for those brave enough to choose it. 

I tell them I want Him. I need Him. 

And with dependence comes something better. 

Love without fear. 

“We love because he first loved us.” 1 John 4:19

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