To Be Loved

September 30, 2011

I know how to love. I know how to serve. I will feed you in any way I can.  My husband admits to this day that sometimes he finds himself overwhelmed by my intensity and focus.

I will hear your off-handed preference for dark chocolate and tuck it away in the file with your name on it.  I will keep track of our conversations and look for ways to bless you. I will take mental notes of your life, your desires,  your dreams and seek to encourage you.  I will create opportunities for you to succeed.  These are things I do, have done, plan on continuing to do.

This?  I am very good at doing.

But to be loved.  To let you take the same care for me?

I cannot bear it.

I simply can’t. Some have called me “too independent”, some “arrogant”.  Some believe I “do it all” because of a warped sense of obligation.  Others have loudly declared I just “can’t say no”.

I suppose there are elements of truth in all of this.  Everyone has a puzzle piece but nobody has the box lid.

Anne Voskamp wrote, at (in)courage, “The dark’s never bothered me much. It’s women who have scared me. Women can haunt with shadows of their own.”

Oh… My imaginary friend….  How did she know how to write my own struggle like this?  I wrote a few weeks ago about the “sisterhood” and my inability to find it.  (Boys, look away, we’re processing girl emotions here.  It’s not pretty, I’m not good at this.)

I don’t think it is my inability to find it but my unwillingness to allow it.  Whatever “it” is.

I have very few friends.  Hundreds of acquaintances.  Very few friends.  And even those I allow closest to me are kept at a certain arms length. I just happen to be the kind of person that can keep you talking about yourself for hours before you realize I haven’t shared a peep about myself.

I’m making a jumble of this.

It’s not merely the fellowship of women it’s the intimacy of friendship from anyone.  I have an overwhelming, paralyzing inability to receive.  While I give beyond what is reasonable.  Expecting to be disregarded and cast aside.

You read my words and hear me better than most.  I write as honestly as I am able.

We weren’t created for this alone thing.  We were created to be supported, encouraged, edified… Fed.

I find myself so guarded that I have yet to meet anyone who has pursued me long enough to get past the walls and love me in spite of it all.

Save Jesus.

For tonight?  That’s enough.  But even He seems awful quiet sometimes…

  • Billiam

    I can open up to almost anyone, not caring about the consequences. I will give you my very last penny, should you require it of me. I will foolishly trust most people, often to my detriment, after knowing them only a little while. I will come to your defense, should I think you’re threatened, before I know the whole story. Yet, I don’t know how to handle a thankyou, or praise for my actions. You don’t know how to open yourself all the way, and I don’t know how to hold myself back and accept thanks. I do know that your writings often make me smile and think. You are not alone, as you know dear lady. Opening up, for some, is never easy. That you have a spouse who understands, and accepts, is a blessing from God. This you know. God, and time. The two things that eventually cure all.

  • wendy

    Whenever I get a glimpse of your heart in your writing it makes me smile. Just so lovely and truthful.

  • you’re a precious woman, heidi. i so wish we could go have tea at the beanery, if it still existed the way it did back in the day…

  • Morris

    I do know what you mean, Heidi.

    There’s little I won’t do for those I love. But, opening up and truly allowing people to see me and love me for what I am – very difficult indeed.

    I’ve seen in your writings your hunger and thirst for righteousness and know that He is with you.

  • “dark chocolate”