Why can’t I love the way I long to be loved?
With mouth wide open, gasping for air,
I disappoint myself time and again
by expecting, and needing, and aching.
I had hoped to love freely, and selflessly, and joyfully.
Am I smothering my love
with past patterns of pathos rehearsed ad nauseum, now simply pathetic?
with blind spots carefully constructed to shield me from seeing the truth?
with razor-sharp fear I dare not approach without a bag of blood in the bank?
So many breath-defying barriers that keep me from loving the way I long to be loved.
And yet, my failed attempts at loving never prevent me
from being dearly loved by the One
who breathes a love into my lungs
that fills me to my fingers and my toes.
I am loved the way I long to be loved.
I am beloved.