The Hardest Conversation

I told him that I loved him.  Not in an "in love" way but in a way that says I know my heart well and I feel it wanting to learn him, to give and not take, to know if I will love him, to know if he will let me, to know if he will love me.  And maybe that only makes sense to me.  I know what I mean.  Every time I type a word I start to cry and I choke on my chicken biscuit.  Not from despair; because the hardest conversation is when you take the clothes off your heart and leave yourself wide open for the truth to hit you like a bullet.  And you do it because you love and you want to do it well.....so it makes you squint your eyes and squeeze out tears like looking in the sun.

The truth is, truth is messy and it colors outside the lines.  Sometimes it hides and leaves little clues behind that you can't make sense of right away.  Sometimes it moves and morphs like a lava lamp and you have to wait and watch it take shape.  You have to trust the Giver of Truth and hold fast.

So, I took this little seed of something tender and planted it in his heart and covered it with my prayer.  His heart is bleeding still from life ripping in so I found a small spot and laid it gentle to leave it quiet.  I don't want to make him bleed more than he already is.  It's no small thing to come alongside someone, for me.  Their pain and their joy splash into my cup.  It doesn't make it heavier but it spills over the side and onto my hands and I can feel it on my skin.  It makes me turn to look for the basin and the towel.

The hardest conversation pulls and tugs at what was bound up comfortable and hidden to protect.  It  lets in light for trust to grow and arrows to be pulled out of wounds.  It causes open space for hearts to stretch out and feel at home; to take a deep breath and try again to sing.  I don't know what will happen.  But, I can tell you, the hardest conversation teaches me to learn to love free of charge.

There's a place at the table for you, sweet man.  If you ever find you need one.