Indian givers & crawling love.

Indian givers & crawling love.

Heavens, he is patient with me, as I throw myself on the kitchen floor, crying in an upheavaled, unladylike manner. Crying as a child, because I so wanted this & every time the Lord provides he slams the car in reverse.

Lord, you are an Indian giver.

Honestly, half the time that is exactly how I feel. As if I better not even reach out for what stands in my path because it’s only temporary. God will only take it back anyway.

My eyes are so fixed on this current season that I am trying to rewind & cling to, so hooked on the idea of making things work with someone that clearly has less at stake than their whole heart. God, but he said all that. You can’t say he didn’t mean any of it.

I fight for someone who’s not fighting for me. God is standing for me, telling me I am worth so much more than every bright cluster of stars, every galaxy below my feet. He tells me I am beautiful, I am honored, & he loves me. But I am too busy opposing myself to hear him out. I am countering God’s charm & truths with ‘but’s, defending this person who isn’t defending me. I let him win wars in my mind every day, placing all the blame on myself for the usual ending. Because if every relationship ends about three weeks in, & I am the common denominator, there must be something wrong with me.

So I was driving to work, & I was doing my typical recounting of the details, beholding flashback upon flashback of things meant for yesterday & last week. & I don’t know how he did it, but he got me to listen.

& it was the scripture about how much more we’ll receive by the Holy Spirit if even an earthly father gives what a child asks for.

Because maybe what God is saying is that there’s more.

My child, this is good. We’re getting somewhere. Keep going. You’re closer.

Maybe he isn’t taking his gifts back. Maybe I have experienced every gift in full. Maybe I have experienced every person in the fullness that they are supposed to have in my life. Maybe I am supposed to keep going. Maybe they are supposed to keep going. Because maybe, just maybe, they lived their part in my life, & it was still good & purposeful, & maybe I am supposed to keep walking.

My mind believes if it didn’t turn out the way I want, shiny diamond on that finger & doves released on that warm summer night, then I failed, God failed, & it was a waste & not supposed to happen. But maybe these are exactly what meets the eye.

Opportunities to grow us into these over-sized bones. Ways for us to behold love, hands cupped, eyes wide, hearts stirred by wonder. Because I have never learned loved in a more powerful way than through relationships that have come & gone.

So maybe these relationships, these people who reveal untouched places in my heart, these men that have shown me that I am capable of more love than I have ever known, maybe this is love crawling.

& it was that line from that song that made it all click,

that I’m still learning to love, just starting to crawl.

Because I am feeling jipped, like this is the fullness of love & God is teasing me with these miniature joy rides because he is a fun sucker who doesn’t want me to be happy. But maybe really these are the roads I’m supposed to take, the people I am supposed to encounter, the smiles that are supposed to scar. Maybe these are God’s you think this is great, just you wait. Maybe they are the there’s more, everything setting up for the next greater thing. Maybe it’s the same thing as an infant learning to roll over, crawl, then walk. Maybe we’re still learning to love, & just starting to crawl.

It’s your turn, love. Break the silence. Spill your guts.

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