I have accepted the fact that only Jesus can ever love me whole. That His love is sO perfect that it’s incapable of ever breaking my heart. Impenetrable by the negativities lurking somewhere in my life. But human love — ah, that’s another story (and yes, I detest that I labeled love as “human”. I mean, there should only be love, right?). Human love stories are tainted by our imperfections.
That’s why , I sometimes feel that a happy ending is a ruse. Because I grew up surrounded by a love that got mad when it misunderstood me. A love that inflicted pain when it didn’t choose me. A love that felt sorrow when it was betrayed. A love that’s gone cold and weary when it was unrequited.
There’s a lot of talk about single women waiting for their true love, I suppose, because God is writing their love stories. If truth be told, it’s starting to get a little hackneyed. I mean, I reject the idea that I should be made to wait. I bet everytime I say that I’m waiting because God is writing my love story, God will roll his eyes and say — “Why are you waiting? Yes, I am writing your love story but it is unfolding before your very eyes. I gave you my son, Jesus, didn’t I? He is the lover of your soul. There, that’s true love for you! I never made you wait!”
Yes, God never made me wait. In my heart, Jesus dwells. Love has been with me all along!
I have been down in the dumps the past weeks (Ooppss, here I go…). But I can honestly say that I’m okay because I am now able to read a book, a romantic love story at that (terrible!). I am now able to listen to music and think of only the good memories. Rejection sucks (ha!) but you know what kept me going the entire time. It was the knowledge, wisdom really, that God loves me sO much I know that there will be better days. A love sO secure that inspite of how I felt, I knew in my heart I am okay. This time I wasn’t broken. It was a case of a bruised ego, really. (Get out of my head Penny Vicenzi!).