Life has been so tough lately that everything seems nothing but nonsensical. There was a weird rhythm in the singsong of your heart. It was battered, bruised and broken. All that could be heard was the deafening noise of nothingness and fullness at the same time. I’m so sorry you had endured all these heartaches, all these howls and cries. I’m sorry you had kept searching your worth and value at the wrong havens. I’m sorry that you had to end your life each night and kept having delusions of a better tomorrow. I’m sorry you had to pull down your walls and give each one of them the entry ticket only to have your eyes witnessed the downfall of the gem inside you. I’m sorry, for I had never protected you from everything that hindered you from growing into the woman that your Creator conceptualized you to be. I’m sorry for the wounds –the scars written in your flesh, deep within, in the cavern of your soul. I’m sorry for not always allowing your Master to heal those. I’m sorry for being so stubborn. I’m sorry that you have to endure every single day of embracing this wretched soul. I’m sorry that I didn’t teach you the concept of happiness. I’m sorry that you heard nothing but my rants and whimpers, my insults and abuses. I’m sorry for letting my own words abolish your self-esteem and self-confidence. I’m sorry for binding you with the notions such as “You are worthless.”; “You are untalented.”; “You are ugly.”; “You can never make it.”; “You are unlovable.”; You are worth scarring for.”; “You deserve hate.”; “You can’t.”. Forgive me for telling you all the otherwise’s of God’s truth. I’m sorry for blocking His words –words that should have given you life. I’m sorry, I have damaged you so much that you are no longer amazed in your waking-hours. I’m sorry for giving you… death.
I’m proud of you.
It was so rare for me to say this but, yes I am. I am proud not merely by your strength but by your vulnerability. It’s hard to show your weakness, but you let it flow to the shore where people can play it, where people can use it as something worth using. I’m so proud that you have learned to surrender people to God; that you have learned the idea of letting go –slowly losing grasp and letting the Lord lead the way. I’m so proud of you, and there were days that I wasn’t, or maybe tomorrow or the next day, I’m no longer cheering for your progress.
But I want you to remember that the story–our story–isn’t predominantly our story. I’m no perfect. I’m no angel. I can take this all back even after just a minute of utterance, but again, my words are not the arguments that matters –it was His, it is His and will forever be His. I can’t still formulate I love you but He can, always.
All the forces in the universe can’t love you the way God does.
That’s more than enough.