Last Seen Blogs
Text
25.
(Caution: Long post with lots of feelings)— — — — — — — — — — — — Something just wasn’t right in my heart. I could taste it. Like a guitar out of tune, a pencil forgotten to be sharpened, or a chapter of a book overlooked. Yesterday was my 25th birthday. What? How fun, right? As the day approaching, friends around me out of their good hearts started talking about the birthday week, and the special day that is drawing near. I kept on putting them down, trying to minimize their excitement for me. Fear had a strong grip. I was prepping for damage control for my feelings just in case my hopes are up and the letdown gets ugly. You might think that is depressing. But over the years, this downplaying of myself became a comfortable place for self-protection. The lower the expectation, the smaller the chance of disappointment, right? So I planned my birthday event, decided to do something presumably easy and fun for everyone and some place to eat that wouldn’t be a burden for people. We went on a mountain, which is famous for having multitudes of buffalos around. As the clouds were taunted by the wind and the mist hovering the heads of the mountains, not one buffalo was spotted under the overcast; not a moo was heard. Aw, see, disappointed. The rest of the day I was stressing over having fun, and looking good, and making sure it doesn’t just all go downhill from here. The night came and we go to see this live Jazz music show I had been wanting to see. We sat down and they told us that they don’t start until 9:40. Nooooooo. Then after a long, aimless back and forth effort and me still trying to uphold my birthday happiness, I decided to stay for it and my friends were kind enough to accompany me. But I just ended up SO tired.... Today it felt like the clouds from the mountains followed me around. Why is there such emptiness in my heart? Something started to surface. I put a burden and responsibilities of joy-bringing onto my friends and myself. My heart was trying to bask in things people can do and say. But who can know exactly what my heart wants to hear, and who can fill in that void so deep? Only God can. I am not loved through having a “heavenly birthday” where the sky suddenly rains unicorns, or better, alpacas, or eating the cheesiest burger that makes your fingers run grease, or listening to music that makes your ears dance. Not even by posts, messages, cards, gifts, people’s kind words and hugs. They go somewhere but they only last for a blink of an eye and my heart is hungry for something different. I want a perfect love. A love that’s unchanging, everlasting, unfading, full, kind, steady, and safe. And I know that love only comes from God. I’ve seen it and tasted it, as His beloved daughter. God’s love for me could care less about my good works, or which day exactly is my birthday. In Christ, everyday is a celebration. A celebration of the lost found and the Savior came. I played my guitar and wept. Oh Lord, may I run to no other refuge, no other rest for my soul. Jesus I need you. Oh Lord, how I need you. And there, my heart was charged again and peace is restored. No perfectionism or self-pity could stand against God’s love for me. Even when I try. He cares about me so much that He could ruin my birthday just so I can again find myself in Him. The hope ought to only be put on the one who is the real hope— and that hope is never changing.
0 notes