He offered his heart to me.
It took me by surprise, though, it really shouldn’t. He’s the kind that wears all his emotions on his sleeve. You don’t have to guess how he feels about the situation. He was concerned about me, and wanted to offer the best part of him to me.
Standing in the chapel in the far corner, his hand forever placed on his heart. He’s not looking at me but I know his heart is with me.
Most days, I don’t understand how he uses His love for me. His love isn’t standardized the way humans use love. We don’t most days do things in love for others. We do it because we have to, or we need to or were just plain selfish, and then it’s isn’t about love. But everything in God is about love. He gets love in a way we will never will. It isn’t hard for him, while we all have someone in our life, (more than one usually) who is difficult for us to love.
He gives us pure love, and we give the kind of love that you have to haul the bucket down deep into the ground. Even when you pull up the bucket and water splashes over, it’s still just well water. It’s flat, and you can taste where it comes from. Our love is selfish. I don’t know about you, but loving (some) others is hard.
My heart isn’t pure like God’s, and so if I can have any part of His heart in me, I’m going for it. But at the end of the day, can I tell the pieces of His love from my mine?
I remember shortly after I moved out on my own, that the cold hard reality of life plummeted me from all angles. I wasn’t expecting this harshness, but it’s something that we all eventually experience whether we want to or not. For long periods of time, He is silent in our struggles. It’s like treading water in our clothes, the heaviness contributes to the overwhelming emotions in us.
Maybe I’m the only one, but in my humanity I was still not convinced of taking his heart – even though I had accepted it. It’s like the gift you receive from a well-meaning relative, who doesn’t really know you that well. It sits in a in place where you can stare at it, and think about what you can use it for. You received the gift but you’re not sure of its exact purpose in your life. I know He loves me, but I like when his directions are more specific.
A Better Replacement
In this the year of Mercy, each diocese has their own Holy Door. The last Holy Door that I last walked through was when I was in Rome (St. Peter’s), over 16 years ago. Truth be known, I know I walked through them, but I’m not sure when I did exactly. No flashing lights indicate when the graces fall on you. This coming weekend, I going to my dioceses holy door before the year is up. It’s been at least over a week and a half since He offered, and I said I would take His heart.
At a certain point a reset button was pushed inside of me this week. It was as simple as talking it out, and having a listening ear and heart to hear me. No advice, or words of wisdom. Just the silence that is deafening to the outside world, but a river of peace that spreads inside of me.