Oh, Dear Heart.

This spot of mine…it feels like thorny ground today.

These days have been a lot of growing. That’s code for hard.

It’s also code for beautiful. For faithful, miracle-filled, digging deep.

A couple days ago I was sitting on a rod iron bench with a million feelings pounding my insides, so I grabbed a piece of paper and tried to explain how my soul could be so confident in this faith, while my so very human thoughts were anything but. I don’t know if you understand what I mean, but here’s what spilled out.

Oh, dear heart.

How you hurt and twist and complicate and feel and love and mend and break. How you demand answers in a place where I have no words. How you ask of me what I've yet to know. How confused you become with my heavy mind. Yet, oh, how at peace you are when told by my soul to cling to the light.

This light pours and seeps into all the fibers of my humanity that were else wise useless, cold, and empty. It begins a war that demands my very being to willingly walk through fire in an effort to hope. It stirs feelings and shakes loose all reason and ease to find more meaning. To find a thing, to make it whole, a thing like faith.

How hard and yet how easy to love a thing like this light. One that pushes me until completely broken, and yet again breaks those tiny pieces, all the while I ask it why. It places shards for my bleeding feet to walk on; it pulls on my already hurting strings of me, and then pulls again.

Yet, it's impossible for my heart to believe that this light isn't love.

My head and reason may scream and pound against the bones of my tired shell, but never will my heart give in, never will my heart not know the truth of this light. It speaks to my soul and my soul answers with a reflection, a tiny glimmer that won’t let go of where it came from.

It knows.

It more than knows, it believes, it understands what my head can't, that this breaking comes from the leaving of a temporary thing, of a body with feelings that are directed by a selfish and unknowing human. This breaking is the making of a devastated heart’s story that finds my soul. A soul that is not swayed, broken, or defeated, but consumed and wrapped in light. A soul that learns to shine for all its worth.

Yes, my mind may fail me. But my heart.

My heart, it knows the light is Love.