To be wanted
is a gift.
Especially when you are wanted for something besides what you have to offer the other person.
For someone to just gently unfold the petals and understand your heart--and want you--
it's a gift.
This evening after an effort by phone to reach out to someone, and ending up in tears from the response, and then realizing that I was unable to sleep again, I get up a while before midnight and realize that it's opening old wounds--the sense of being unwanted.
I could not help that in my humanity I was unable to sleep,
and that there was a knot in the pit of my stomach so big and hard that I can't rub it out.
But I can help the choice that I make.
I can choose to go to the One Who wants me.
Maybe I'm not the brightest and best flower in the garden.
Maybe I'm not even a flower, just some sort of beet or turnip with too much dirt on it, or some sort of crookneck squash with an especially crooked neck.
Maybe I do indeed have the wrong family of origin, or the wrong last name, or attend the wrong church or have some other flaw to my discredit.
And we have to be honest with ourselves--
we are all a little vulnerable to the nip of the frost and cold shoulders,
and we'll do anything to protect ourselves from the pain of not being wanted.
It's just amazing the facades and the plastic covers that we can put over ourselves
to try to prove that we are powerful and invulnerable and untouchable
and not a bit needy of grace.
We want to feel fruitful and useful and loved and needed and wanted.
And we forget who to go to in order to be wanted.
Because when we are wanted by Him,
does it really matter who else does or doesn't want us?
And there is such a sense of just cuddling up into His lap,
letting Him soothe the hurting places,
and receiving the comfort of knowing that I am wanted.
"O Love that Wilt Not Let Me Go,
I rest my weary soul in Thee..."
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