Extraordinary Love - Blog # 17

note: scattered throughout this memoir of sorts are the real, raw poems I wrote - for only my eyes to see at the time - and the dates I wrote them. Now, I am finally ready to share a part of the collection of poems that hold nothing but pain, love, longing, anger, forgiveness, joy, life, me and God, and God and me.

I.

I used to dream of being ordinary because that was what felt safe.

It seemed simple enough: go to college, get a job, find a husband, get a house, have some kids, and then retire. It was the kind of life a child who has known chaos craves. 

It seemed controllable because all I knew was fear.

Fear of being poor. Fear of not being enough for anyone. Fear of being replaceable. Fear of being unlovable. Fear that if anyone knew the real me that was the moment they would run.

Maybe you dream of an amazing life: millions of social media followers, wealth, status, prestige, and reputation. Aren’t you afraid too? Afraid that people don’t like you so that you need a numerical metric to make sure you’re loved. Afraid that you’re nothing if you have nothing. Afraid that you’re no one if no one loves you. Afraid of losing it all if you aren’t who they think you are. Afraid because you know it all too well.

External things don’t make you extraordinary.

They make you more like everyone else who is afraid too.

We are all so ugly and wretched inside, and we know it too. No amount of zeros on a paycheck hides the fact that you feel like a zero too - and if you didn’t, you wouldn’t feel the need to have it all and then some. The check cashes out and you’re still left feeling like a fraud. The ‘likes’ pour in and you wonder if anyone would care if you were here or not. 

Sometimes I wonder if I’m too harsh in my blogs, but honesty must be tempered with love. I love what truth in love does in my life. It makes me someone who can question, think, feel, and change. It makes me someone who is alive - not just living anymore - but a functioning person: something that only God dwelling within me can do.

I used to dream of living. Surviving. No waves. No thoughts. Just here and then gone. If I don’t ask for much, maybe the world will be less harsh on me. Maybe the world will see a frumpy, ordinary girl and put away the wolves. I didn’t need life to be kind or mean, I just needed it to leave me alone.

Alone is how I felt when I got home, took off the make up, the smile, and sat in the silence of my mind. I had everything: a loving family, a genuine group of friends, the grades, the internships lined up, the guy, and it was nice. Nice is such a shallow word that dresses itself up.

It’s just this gnawing feeling that didn't leave: I should be happy. Think about how many people would want what you have. I will be happy. No, I just haven’t gotten this thing yet, but I’ll work hard until I do. Then, that’s when I’ll be okay. Don’t think about what happens if you’re not happy when you get what you want, just keep running after it in the hopes that you will be. Otherwise, what’s the point? Why am I here?

No, don’t think about that. Think about what you should be doing, doing, doing and maybe the emptiness goes away. Maybe that hollow feeling in your chest just leaves and one day you wake up and it never comes back. If I’m empty, the solution is more … but more of what? More friends? More accomplishments? Higher grades? Another degree? A better job?

A part of me wanted to scream so loudly that I would lose my voice forever. I think that’s the only way I can describe the desperation I felt to have this “more”, but I was confused by the constant longing I felt coupled with the lack of any solution that wasn’t temporary.

I was starving for “more”. I wanted the feeling to go away, but it just lingered even as I had the most memorable times of my life. It’s like a bad taste in your mouth, even the best meal of your life is ruined by the taste. Every bite of the good is just another moment you escape the bad.

Maybe I was being greedy to want more. I had already exceeded my expectations of living an ordinary life in many ways, and yet every time I exceeded it, the hunger got worse and worse. The closer I got to each goal, the more accomplishments I tucked under my belt, the worse I felt and the more I wanted.

I was insatiably unhappy.

II.

I think it was just another night of crying - probably over some boy I was dating knowing me - and I thought to myself: is this what life looks like? There’s something so viscerally off-putting about telling someone that loving you shouldn’t be a chore everyday. 

I couldn’t break up with him or any of them: they were my ticket out of this hell.

I was hedging my bets on ‘the one’.

This mythological idea of a person who could make me feel whole, and I would chase the highs of that even if that was at the cost of losing more of myself. How did that make any sense? When did the princess grovel for the prince’s love? Didn’t he chase her relentlessly to find her and rescue her? Weren’t they promised happily ever after?

Gambling is a strange addiction, yet we all bet on what will make our lives something of value and important. Work. Success. Wealth. Friends. Family. Fame. 

Something inside me knew that it had to be found in love, but I kept losing. Maybe it was the wrong guy this time. Maybe it should be him instead. Maybe he just wasn’t ready to love me. Maybe I wasn’t lovable enough. 

Apparently Albert Einstein once said, “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

“I love you, Grace. I’ll never hurt you again. I promise things will be different.”

I skipped the bus home in favor of walking 1.5 hours to reflect on a text like this. At some point, you just feel the insanity of it all so deeply in your soul. You almost want to laugh or cry or both - and hysterically - at the madness of someone who tries to sell you on this idea of love so boldly and self-assured after failing every time before.

This was my salvation? Some teenage old boy who couldn’t even bother to brush his teeth everyday? Was I any better? I was extremely insecure and constantly trying to prove myself as worthy of being loved. 

Something was so wrong about all of this, and I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

1 Corinthians 13:4-7

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

I read these words over and over again on my walk home. I didn’t know that love. I never knew that love, and if I saw it, I would probably pass it on the street. In those verses, I felt seen. Love is good. Love brings good. Love does good. Love doesn’t text you that it needs a break after promising you the world. Love stays: always and forever.

I didn’t say it with my words or even in my thoughts, yet with my whole being I was asking for this love. It wasn’t a lightbulb moment. I just felt it start to wash over me like when waves reach up and kiss your toes, washing away the grit of the sand and debris with it as it recedes. I got home physically exhausted, but my mind was awake and my soul was moved. 

Something was different.

One love story was being cut down, and another one was laying roots.

III.

I share my life on this platform, anything you give me, because I feel this depth of sadness to know what it’s like to live constantly longing for something more. I have found the most precious, beautiful, and amazing love, and love that has a name: Jesus Christ. 

Happy is such a shallow word for the all encompassing completeness of purpose, fulfillment, and joy that comes from being loved by Jesus. Happy fades, but love is forever and always. I would know - four years in, and this feeling has only grown stronger and taken hold of every inch of my life that I’m willing to give over. 

It comes with ups and downs on my part. I come with baggage, with exes, with strange idiosyncrasies, and ridiculous demands. I’m unforgiving, unloving, uncompromising, and super stubborn, yet—this was the kind of love that was waiting for me, looking for me, hoping that I would be the one to turn and look back at it. 

Perfect love wanted imperfect me.

I feel like my heart is bursting even writing this. Forget full and whole - there is overflow and extra. I couldn’t catch it all if I tried. More is the perfect word - more than I could’ve imagined or asked for or ever deserved.

Alive. I’m alive. 

I’m still broken, but that’s not the end of my story. 

When God brings you back to life, you do what living beings do - you begin to heal. The things that are wrong with me: my pride, my anxiety, my selfishness, my envy, my hatred, my unforgiveness, and anything else that is broken is daily being mended. In the end, I know that God’s work in me will be complete and even now I taste heaven on earth. 

I don’t dream about being ordinary because my fears died with Jesus dying on the cross. I want to do great things for God: eternal, life-altering, mind-breaking, and once-in-a-lifetime things for the sake of Him who called me His own. I love people that I don’t even know simply because God loves them. My soul cries out for the people who don’t know Jesus yet. I have been granted the ability to push beyond my own self-imposed limits of forgiveness, kindness, and generosity. I have been given life after living while dead.

Guys, I have a new dream.

If it involves a job, a husband, some kids, a house, I would be happy, but that’s not the point anymore. It’s not part of the checklist of being whole and complete. It’s another way to love God. It’s another avenue to express the overflow of love. We all revolve around the sun, and my star is named Jesus who shines his love onto the world and gives life to everyone that receives it. 

I dream of dedicating everything that I have and everything that I am to You, God.

It is so satisfying to know that one day, I will stop dreaming because that will just be reality. Everyday, every moment, and every part of me and this world will be centered on loving You! 

I sat down today not knowing I would write this - or anything close to it, but I just needed an outlet for how I get to feel everyday with God. Mission was like a booster shot to our relationship because it reminded me of the daily mission to love God and love others well happens in the best way when we share the gospel: when we share the love that we have received first. 

I will not feel like this everyday. There will be days when I am entangled in sin, forgetful, distracted, and disinterested in God. There are moments throughout my day where I choose myself over God constantly in the ways that I think, act, and speak. God doesn’t give up on me or any of us. He will keep pursuing us, that’s because of that 1 Corinthians 13 love - real, true, honest love. 

Extraordinary love.

Love that is patient: waiting for you to turn back into his open arms.

Love that is kind: not looking to hurt you and not shaming you, full of warmth and whole-hearted goodness when you look at him.

Love that doesn’t envy: he only wants what belongs to him and you - you belong to him. He is yours and you are his. 

Love that doesn’t boast and isn’t proud: he doesn’t see you as ugly and unlovable, but in his love, goes after you no matter how long it takes and no matter how far you go.

Love that is not self-seeking: he gave his life for yours - and it was worth it to him.

Love that is not easily angered and keeps no records of wrongs: he isn’t going to be angry when you come back, doesn’t list off all the ways you wronged him, and doesn’t make you beg for forgiveness before loving you again.

Love that wants you to know the truth: that this love, that all of him, is open and available to you whenever you are ready.

Love that always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

That is the love embodied in Jesus who wants you, not because you’re good or worthy, but because that’s who Jesus is: His character. His Heart for you. His Love for you. It’s not too good to be true because it came at the cost of His life, and you can walk away knowing that. You don’t have to let that touch your heart. You can live life ignoring love, but love will always be looking for you.

That’s my life story.

My life is me finally looking back.

My life is what love looks like when it's finally returned back to its sender.