I have a friend who I can (and if I had more time with her probably would) talk to about anything. We talk fairly often, but never near enough. She is one of the few people who I hold in my heart. I love her. Yesterday we talked on the phone while I did yoga ... she was out shopping.
"Whatsup?whatareyoudoing?" ... All one word. She runs wide open with her heart leading the way. She told me about some of her stuff and recommended the blog that I really tried to link.
This new OS is tricky stuff.
Anyway, I told her I would look at the blog today ... I asked her if she remembered that old song from the 80s ... "Somebody's Knocking" probably came out the year she first learned the words to "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star ..." . I sang it to her ... She laughed. It is funny. Ridiculously so. So she sent me to the blog of the writer of the book
one thousand gifts ~Ann Voskamp
I read two ... Maybe three of her posts this morning. She writes well. My friend observed that Ann Voskamp has a similar way of seeing events in life to my way of looking at this and seeing also that ... .. I cried when I read her journal this morning. I relate to her sweetness. I don't like to cry. She writes about love. I have been actively moving a way from thinking about love. Thinking about love kinda pokes at a soft spot ... I don't think I am ready to think about love ... Thinking about trust may be all the adventure my soul can absorb just right now. I've already backed up ... I was planning on driving off, not coming at this from a different direction. You know, it's not that I am not a loving person. Not that at all ... I just want to be loving at an arms length ... Or loving towards my few loves. That quote at the top of the page ... I meant that as the love I could offer, not as the love I might accidentally need to receive. Some where in this blog I noted that when you gently pour your love towards "glueing back together someone's broken-ness" that you leave a bit of yourself with them ... . Like when I glue a vase back together, I can wipe away the excess glue from the outside of the vessel ... Leaving a mend that appears seamless, but inside the vessel, near the heart of the matter ... The glue beads along the fault lines ... the glue becomes part of the strongest part of the restored vessel. See ... the deal with me is this, I don't want what it means to me, to be glued. I want to be unbroken, but I don't want the glue to be part of that. I am careful about love ... love scares me.
Love makes one vulnerable ... Thus trust must be one of the supports ... We've been talking about that forever now. I'm sure that's right ... Love requires trust. I can love as a mother loves her baby without trusting the baby, but that is a different kind of love ... I can offer cool water to a stranger ... I can do arms length love without trust being involved ... I rock that. The other kinds of love seem to be built on trust.
So ... What is the story of restoration if not a love story?