**I had originally hidden this post, but after an email, thought it best to re-post them. **
He reveals deep and hidden things; he knows what lies in darkness, and light dwells with him.” Daniel 2:22 (NIV)
I have been thinking about blogging for a few days now, with thoughts and thoughts running through my head. I'm not entirely sure that I have everything that I want to say, but I'm as ready as I'm ever going to be, you know? Thursday night at Bible Study, the speaker (Jennifer Rothschild) spoke about familiarity versus intimacy, and how familiarity can creep up and steal intimacy, and that we don't realize it until we are FAR gone.
I have allowed things in my life in the past few months to escape true intimacy -- that is, intimacy in friendships -- and be overtaken by familiarity. The speaker correlated hers to her marriage, but as soon as she said it, I immediately thought about some of the friendships in my life. The last year of my life has been both a whirlwind and a snail's pace. I feel like I've said it a thousand times, but I can't help but see how much my life has changed in the last year.
Now, I want to close the windows for familiarity and open the doors for intimacy. Real, geniune, honest, heartfelt intimacy. Ugly and yet beautiful.
Almost a year ago, Chase walked out of my life. I was devastated (nowhere near how I was with Bradley, but close), and took it really hard. It's hard to try and understand why people don't love you back. And, it was not easy to get over someone that you put such a high, intangible value on, whether or not they did the same. So, here's intimacy:
Thank you for walking out of my life almost a year ago. For the first time, I now see, with clarity, that you had to be the strong one, because all my resistance had failed. I was weak. I was running out of reasons to say no. Also, thank you for doing all of it -- walking away, getting engaged, and getting married -- thank you for doing it quickly. Kind of like ripping a band-aid off the skin with one swoop. You kept my hurt to a minimum (although that was nowhere in your intention). I realized this weekend that I don't hate you. Thank you for being selfish and not loving me back. Thank you for not being the man of integrity that I was looking for. Thank you for showing me that in order to deserve more, I have to seek more, I have to set higher standards and expectations. Thank you for making me feel worthless so that now I know how priceless I really am.
I wish you well.
There is no way you will ever read this letter. Over two months ago, you took your own life. In doing so, you forced me, with wide-eyes, to examine my own. You made me painfully aware of some areas in my life where I was not paying attention. While I still cannot fully understand why you took your life, I see how God has used that to remind me daily how precious my life is. I only wish you could have seen while you were alive that you were loved so deeply, by your friends and family. While I can't but think you were selfish in death, I hope you had a second to make your peace with God Almighty. I hope you had a moment to ask for forgiveness, and I hope to see you in Heaven one day. But regardless, I want you to know that you did not die in vain.
These are just two. There are more. But for now, these will do.