My Heart
It's me.
Inside.
Where no one can see.
Everyone speaks so casually about the heart. "I'm in love." "He broke my heart." "I love you with all my heart!" It's something trivial to which we assign a shape and cut out of red construction paper every February 14th. But it's something more!
It's deep inside.
It holds all your hopes, dreams, aspirations, and convictions.
It is what makes you!
But today I'm asked to throw it around. I'm expected to lay is bare before boy after boy, man after man. No relationship? What's wrong with me? Am I insane? Aren't there any interests? Why haven't you kissed anyone, Courtney? Isn't that weird? Isn't that..... different?
Yes.
It is weird, different.
My heart is locked away. My dream is to hand it over to my knight in shining armor, on that day when I become a beautiful princess. Call me a fool. Sneer at my fairy tale ideal. I don't care. I just want to make that gift whole, complete, and beautiful on that day.
But there's a problem. My heart wants to be given. It wants to be cherished and loved. It tugs impatiently at the boundaries I've set. Every day I have to fight down the thoughts, "Just once? Can't I share just a little? He's a good guy. It couldn't hurt. Just a little part. You don't have to share the whole of it. Just give him a piece of you heart. It'll be fine."
I sit here all alone. Perhaps one day I will have company. Perhaps not. But I would rather sit here, knowing that I had carefully guarded, rather than knowing I had played with perhaps the most precious thing I own.
I don't want it to be beaten and battered.
I don't want it to be ignored.
And while I desire romance, I don't desire a torn and broken heart.
I had this "dream."
I was surrounded. Countless boys and men. I smiled- flippantly, happy. I was radiant. But it was shallow- obviously assumed. Everyone's eyes were focused on something. They seemed to be playing a game. I watched with a smile as they all fought and tore at an object. I would frequently reach in and hand it to another player- smiling at him. For a time all my attention would be focused on him. Then with a sigh, rather like disappointment I would reach into his hands and take it- turning to another man- handing it to him. This continued. Over and over again. One by one they began drifting away. Soon I was standing all by myself. Someone drew near. He hadn't been close to me. Unable to come into my view when I was surrounded. I knew who He was, and I turned rather timidly. I felt quiver in my stomach. My knees slowly gave way from under me and I sunk to the ground. A great sob caught in my throat.
"Where is it?" The voice was low, soft. It was a rhetorical question. He knew.
"Here." I held out my hand- fingers folded over my palm. Slowly He pulled them back.
There, in the palm of my hand lay a dirty, torn heart. It was bleeding- and tiny. Pieces were missing. Under His gaze it's shabbiness, it's smallness became greater. The tears which ached behind my eyes began to run down my face.
"Daughter. Where is your heart? You promised it to me." His eyes were more sad than mine. I couldn't look in his face.
"This is it... This is it..." Choking voice. "This is.... All."
He looked at me. Quietly. In His eyes was a sorrow that was deeper than I could fathom. He repeated,
"But you promised it to me..."
It haunts me. Scares me.
My heart is one Person's. I promised it to Him when I was four. It's a shabby thing, dirty and unclean. He knows. He doesn't expect it to be perfect. He just wants it to be whole. All His. He'll hold it gently. Slowly, with great patience and care He'll clean it- removing dirt and stains to make it pure.
It's me.
Inside.
It's what makes me.
Is it His?
Teach me your way, O LORD, and I will walk in your truth; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name. (Psalm 86:11)
Inside.
Where no one can see.
Everyone speaks so casually about the heart. "I'm in love." "He broke my heart." "I love you with all my heart!" It's something trivial to which we assign a shape and cut out of red construction paper every February 14th. But it's something more!
It's deep inside.
It holds all your hopes, dreams, aspirations, and convictions.
It is what makes you!
But today I'm asked to throw it around. I'm expected to lay is bare before boy after boy, man after man. No relationship? What's wrong with me? Am I insane? Aren't there any interests? Why haven't you kissed anyone, Courtney? Isn't that weird? Isn't that..... different?
Yes.
It is weird, different.
My heart is locked away. My dream is to hand it over to my knight in shining armor, on that day when I become a beautiful princess. Call me a fool. Sneer at my fairy tale ideal. I don't care. I just want to make that gift whole, complete, and beautiful on that day.
But there's a problem. My heart wants to be given. It wants to be cherished and loved. It tugs impatiently at the boundaries I've set. Every day I have to fight down the thoughts, "Just once? Can't I share just a little? He's a good guy. It couldn't hurt. Just a little part. You don't have to share the whole of it. Just give him a piece of you heart. It'll be fine."
I sit here all alone. Perhaps one day I will have company. Perhaps not. But I would rather sit here, knowing that I had carefully guarded, rather than knowing I had played with perhaps the most precious thing I own.
I don't want it to be beaten and battered.
I don't want it to be ignored.
And while I desire romance, I don't desire a torn and broken heart.
I had this "dream."
I was surrounded. Countless boys and men. I smiled- flippantly, happy. I was radiant. But it was shallow- obviously assumed. Everyone's eyes were focused on something. They seemed to be playing a game. I watched with a smile as they all fought and tore at an object. I would frequently reach in and hand it to another player- smiling at him. For a time all my attention would be focused on him. Then with a sigh, rather like disappointment I would reach into his hands and take it- turning to another man- handing it to him. This continued. Over and over again. One by one they began drifting away. Soon I was standing all by myself. Someone drew near. He hadn't been close to me. Unable to come into my view when I was surrounded. I knew who He was, and I turned rather timidly. I felt quiver in my stomach. My knees slowly gave way from under me and I sunk to the ground. A great sob caught in my throat.
"Where is it?" The voice was low, soft. It was a rhetorical question. He knew.
"Here." I held out my hand- fingers folded over my palm. Slowly He pulled them back.
There, in the palm of my hand lay a dirty, torn heart. It was bleeding- and tiny. Pieces were missing. Under His gaze it's shabbiness, it's smallness became greater. The tears which ached behind my eyes began to run down my face.
"Daughter. Where is your heart? You promised it to me." His eyes were more sad than mine. I couldn't look in his face.
"This is it... This is it..." Choking voice. "This is.... All."
He looked at me. Quietly. In His eyes was a sorrow that was deeper than I could fathom. He repeated,
"But you promised it to me..."
It haunts me. Scares me.
My heart is one Person's. I promised it to Him when I was four. It's a shabby thing, dirty and unclean. He knows. He doesn't expect it to be perfect. He just wants it to be whole. All His. He'll hold it gently. Slowly, with great patience and care He'll clean it- removing dirt and stains to make it pure.
It's me.
Inside.
It's what makes me.
Is it His?
Teach me your way, O LORD, and I will walk in your truth; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name. (Psalm 86:11)
posted by COURTNEY at 1:21 AM
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