Summer 2017, Day Camp
I walked out of handcraft as day camp was leaving to get ready for lake time. Sweet Caroline, six years old, was sitting against the building, sobbing. She wanted to be friends with another little girl who simply did not feel the same way.
All week long, Caroline saved her seats, braided her hair, pushed her on the swings, and even brought her fruit snacks. But the little girl already had a friend and did not wish to be friends with anybody else.
Caroline was devastated. She put forth all of her effort, but her acts of love were not reciprocated.
She just wanted a friend.
A playmate.
Somebody to sit with at lunch and splash around with in the lake.
Caroline desperately tried to win over the little girl’s affections, but she remained unchosen.
Heartbroken.
Fall 2017, Senior Year
I received a text as I was walking into my apartment building one evening.
“I know you’re out, probably on a drive, but I would really like to talk to you..”
It was from Lauren, my best friend and roommate, who I was going to see in a handful of seconds. I did not know what the conversation would be, but I knew it would be a difficult one when I walked in and saw tears streaming down her face.
She wrote me a letter. I read it. We talked.
I had done a poor job of demonstrating my love for my friend.
For several years, she saved me seats, braided my hair, pushed me on the swings, and brought me fruit snacks. I took advantage of Lauren’s friendship and failed to show her how much she meant to me.
Lauren was devastated. She put forth all of her effort, but her acts of love were not reciprocated.
She just wanted a faithful friend.
A loyal confidant.
Someone who was reliably present, even if physically apart.
Lauren desperately tried to capture my attention, but she remained unchosen.
Heartbroken.
Too often
I feel little nudges. Hear soft knocks. Notice tugs on my heart. I find myself inexplicably overcome by joy and overwhelmed by heartache.
I receive butterflies and dancing clouds and wildflowers on the side of the road.
I am blessed with friends and family and strangers who show me so much love and kindness.
My whole life, Jesus has saved me seats, braided my hair, pushed me on the swings, and brought me fruit snacks. Too often, I ignore his efforts and neglect our relationship.
And I think he must be devastated. He puts forth all of his effort, but his acts of love are not reciprocated.
He just wants to be my friend.
My love.
My comfort.
How desperately my heart cries out for his peace, yet he often remains unchosen.
Heartbroken, yet again.
Every day
Jesus loves me, this I know.
I continually push him away. I choose my anxiety over his peace. My schedule over his rest. My loved ones over his love.
And he says to me, “but I brought you fruit snacks.”
He gave me salvation. He showers me with new mercies every morning. He loves me with wildflowers and rain fall, children’s laughter and devoted friends. He provides for me time and time again. He holds me close when I am sad and dances with me when I am happy. He dusts me off when I fall and smiles when I fly.
He is so, so sweet.
I love him. He loves me.
I am learning to choose him first. He chooses me every single time.
My heart breaks often. He mends my broken heart.
My heart has heard you say, “Come and talk with me.”
And my heart responds, “Lord, I am coming.”
Psalm 27:8
