Day 200

This kind of love it's what I dreamed about

Yeah it fills me up

Baby it leaves no doubt

This kind of love it's why I'm standing here

It's something that we can share

I can't enough of this kind of love

This Kind of Love, Sister Hazel

I loved him.

It may have been one of the shortest love stories of my life, but it was by far the most powerful.  A lot of nights lately I think of him.

I miss him, I think.  And I think.  And I think.

And then I thought, But why do I miss him?

And I started thinking about what I miss about him.

His friendship.

What is friendship?

Friendship is loving someone for all that they are, through all that they are.  I miss that he loved me for all that I was, knowing everything about me.  I miss how we laughed together, and how goofy we were.  I miss how we were friends.  I miss how he respected me.  I miss how I could so freely be myself and that he loved me through it all.

And as I let these thoughts drift through my mind, I do miss him, yes, but it’s more I miss what was because I don’t believe this will ever happen to me again.

To have someone know me—know all of me—and love me still.  To want to be with me.  To be tender with me, to be my best friend, to laugh with me, to enjoy the same things together.

I think this is why Bryan’s prayer on Sunday caused tears to well up.  His words of a loving, but strong husband left me feeling empty.  Who would ever be that to me?

I think myself so odd that I may fare better alone than ever with anyone again.

No, not fare, but be left stranded, for who would die to themselves so much that they would love me?

Even now as friends prime me for dates, as men are beginning to notice me, as I’m beginning to have options, I really don’t see them as options as all.

Someone is laying groundwork.  God, I feel You starting something.  Right now, He’s lining up men I can and will say no to, because I’m developing some standards.  It's like a practice run.  An exercise.

But the flip side is this: when other men ask—men that I feel would be lowering their standards to date me—will I say yes even then?

Or will I make the decision for them?

Suddenly, I leave the realm of me simply saying No, I’m not attracted to you and bump into No, I’m not good enough for you so let me save you the trouble of getting to know me and let you spend your time on another woman who would be such a better wife to you, a woman not so stained and heart so battered.

There is a part of me that believes the lie that it was a fluke that he came into my life.  It was all a fluke; the timing, the love, the circumstance.  It wasn’t a gift from God, because I don’t deserve gifts as beautiful as that one.  And if it’s a fluke, it’s not likely to happen again.

How little do I trust my God with this?  I choose to be led to see differing patterns of either He never gave and it was coicidence, to He gives, but only to take away.  It happened with him, and it happened with my community.

There is so much hurt in my heart still.  Deep, settled, rampant hurt.  And I know I want to trust Him with my heart.  I just don’t know how to get there.

And so I think of what’s past and wonder if I’ll ever feel that way again, or if I’ll keep my heart locked up forever.

Happy 200th day, beloved, I hear Him say.  I know it's only by Him that I have come this far.  So why do I feel so hopeless?