Original Post: Thursday, May 13, 2010
The last few days I have experienced some things that have gone
much deeper than an outsider could possibly understand just seeing the
things that have happened.
I have always been fascinated about the contrast of when someone says, "I love you," and when someone says, "I love you, but..."
Now, I know those words are so rarely ever said outright like that.
But the sermon I listened to recently talked about "Grace changes lives /
there is nothing you can do to make God love you more or less / God
will go about His purposes despite your performances."
It's easy to be worried about what people think. Some
of it has to do with how complicated my life has been at times; I'm
afraid because there are so many facets that people either have preconceived misconceptions of, or have no comprehension of, what I am
saying, possibly due to their experiences up until this point in their
I don't like trying to explain adoption to someone who thinks of
Disney and Orphan Annie. I don't like trying to explain being the
daughter of a police officer to people who spend most of their time on
the roads cussing about stupid fat cops and making donut jokes. I don't
like trying to explain that I've gone to four different colleges to
people who have never moved, and have had the same friends ever since
the 4th grade. I especially don't like explaining why I went back to
highschool when I got to SC or why I attended BJU for a semester. I
don't like encountering questions about my sister.
So I worry about what people think sometimes. I don't want to
explain, and mostly, if I try to explain, no understanding is
Then there are those few special people in life...
they not only understand completely, but they love unconditionally.
They see me, the real me, bad and good and good and bad, and they still
love me, for some reason.
I quit trying to figure out why. These people simply say, "I love you."
They don't try to change me, yet they change me profoundly. They
don't have some distorted view of me that might crumble if they catch a
glance of the real me; if anything should surprise them, it is
superficial, because they have, for whatever reason, chosen to love me,
and nothing else is big enough to alter that, to shake that, to ruin
May I love like this. It has always been one of my greatest desires.