Dear Friday Friend: Glady Hurt

Dear Friday Friend,

You walked into my life again recently. Every feeling inside me grabbed me to deter my forward motion. Despite the throat squeezing gut feeling I pressed on, reached into your world, and grabbed your hand. I kissed your wounds. I cried with you, held you, counseled you. And like that. As quick as you entered, you left. My heart ached, longed for you to touch again what you know as real instead of masking the hurt with your activities. But, like every other time, there wasn't a different outcome. I knew this in the deepest reaches of my soul but for you, dear Friday, for you I had hope. For some reason that is beyond my comprehension I always do and always will have hope. I can't explain it and I don't wish to try.

This time it hurt a little more as you walked out the door. Not me. I am not personally inflicted over your absence. To be honest your friendship isn't a gaping hole in my heart. I wish it was. But, dear one, the very definition of the word forbids it. Instead my heart aches. Not for me but for you. I struggle with the denial you carry. Your heart is a burden on mine and that is what makes my prayers for you so heavy the weight of them cripples my arms.

The odd thing is the very things you say harden you have crept on me as well. The same circle closed us out, the same hurt touched our hearts, and the same pain keeps us from forward motion. The largest difference between the two of us is that in my hurt I folded into the Father, in your hurt you turned to the world.

Friday, I have to be honest. I was stitching my white flag. Every time I get to this point the Father in His incredible and far reaching love gently discloses something to my heart.

"Not this time dear one, not this time."

I tuck away my white flag, feast at the goodness of His banqueting table, and press on.

This time His gentle reminder came through 2 Corinthians 12:15. My mom posted this article several days after I interacted with you for the last time. The words penetrated my soul and soothed my heart all at the same time. Never in my life had I grasped these words as they were written. He would gladly spend and never have confidence of being loved.

I don't want anything from you. I want, deeply desire, and long with my whole being for you to know and love the One who made you, holds you, and hurts with you. Friday, you are His chosen, beloved, princess and only you can make the choice to take on that identity.

This isn't different than any other time. This interaction hasn't given me a glimmer of hope for something greater. Other than the rock solid truth that I will gladly hurt for you. I want you to know I will sacrifice my personal love for the love of you. I will continue to hurt, continue to spend, and continue to hold out for the "one day" because I know the source of my strength isn't me. Contrary to popular advise I will remain open to your occasional needs, stay silent when you don't wish to hear, and open my door again when you come knocking.

Speak the truth? In love, absolutely.

Friday, with the love that took my Savior to the cross, I love you.