This is the sweet place. The place that they all swore that I would get to at some point. The place that I swore I would never ever ever ever get to. Ever.
“It comes with time,” they said as hopelessness made a home in my heart. “Just give it time.” Time doesn’t offer much hope when it comes to dealing with present afflictions of the heart. I was burned and bruised and beat up, and time felt like the card everyone played when there weren’t any other answers to give.
Two years later, quite a bit of time has passed by, and the truth is, they were right. I needed time. Healing takes time. Broken hearts don’t heal overnight. It is a process. A difficult, beautiful, sometimes excruciating process. I didn’t even realize I was in the process, to be honest. It was slow. It happened a day at a time. A slow but sweet realization that maybe you weren’t my forever person. A slow and sweet understanding that that was okay. That that didn’t mean feelings of bitterness or hatred or envy had to proceed. Finding that I could still love you, in a different way.
So sometimes I pray for you. I pray that you’re happy. That life fills you full to the brim with love and joy and hope, always hope. I pray that when life hits you hard, faith hits you harder. I hope you feel overwhelmed by the blessings that God pours out on you. I hope he pours out a lot of them. I hope you feel equipped, called, and purposeful because of the way the Lord has worked in your heart. I hope you feel the joy that I do at this point in life…and then experience it ten-fold in the coming years.
This is my letter of thanks from the sweetest place, because without you I wouldn’t know the love I do now. Thank you.