Love, for me, is being in a safe place with someone else, a place you want to stay. Love is not wanting to leave. Love is being at home with a person. It is building a nest with someone else and knowing you both care about keeping that nest beautiful. It’s sharing your flimsy stringy thoughts and seeing them carefully handled. It’s someone else taking your thoughts, and putting them back in the nest. It’s being able to rest and knowing you’re safe. It’s not being told what to do all the time but being given the freedom to be creative with your thoughts, maybe even a little dangerous. It’s when after you made a mess of everything and ran away someone else picks up the pieces and asks you to come back and stay. It’s when you break down and cry and they don’t tell you to stop crying but wipe away your tears, hold you close, whisper in your ear that everything will be okay one day. It’s when you take off your clothes and you don’t feel ashamed but loved.
Love is a place where you stay with someone forever. Love is a warm fire, love is a safe house, love is a light. Love is an embrace. Love is the call at 2am in the morning asking you where you are and when you’re coming back home. Love is another person who sees you and knows you and still wants to be with you.
I can write about all of these things! But I feel like there’s no way to step out of these words and actually live in a house of love. I don’t know how to be a person of love - how to do these things, be these things. I wish I was better at all of these things. I wish I there was someone else show me how to do these things. But I feel like there isn’t and I can’t do it by myself. I’m lost out here. I need help getting back. It’s as though if you’re not already in the house, there’s no way to find your way to its door.
Jesus is the dwelling place of God and man… in Jesus I’ll be at home. But where is Jesus? And how do I know I’m with Him?