A love letter for the soul
Valentine’s is a tricky holiday. It stirs up love, hope, longings, but also pain and disappointment. Memories. Hurts. And so, with a tender heart, I write about a love that I have learned, tasted and seen, a love that now anchors me through storms, heals shame, and enables me to flourish. The love of our Father, and the words he helped me write in my memoir, Love Letters from Poland. Poland was the place where I encountered his love. I’ll never be the same. Here’s an excerpt from my chapter, “Broken Treasures.”
He loves me… he loves me still?
I needed Jesus’ love. I needed him for everyday challenges. He broke through with a song, sung over me, softening my heart as I peered out the train window at maple trees. He loves me, like actually, intensely. I had falsely believed he had been aloof, unconcerned about my suffering, just waiting to bring me to heaven. No wonder I had run so far believing such heresy. I thought he could be my last chance option, like fire insurance, just before I died. As if I could live a full, fun life apart from his control and judgment. But, sweet friend, he loved me so.