“Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God; and every time one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God. He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love.”1 John 4:7-8 KJV
One time after secondary school, I had this really amazing friendship with a boy. That was the first time in all my life I understood what girls in secondary school were talking about- getting worked up over boy issues; it was strange to me. I was more concerned with being a respected tomboy in our all-girls community, than slim-fitting skirts and wearing lipgloss. He was so intense- always saying deep sturvs.
I laugh at myself presently.
He would talk about the future and how it was going to be so beautiful, about the things we had in common, the way we fit so nicely and all of that boy-girl thing. We never really dated, we were just ‘talking’ and chilling – I think that’s the term.
It was really an interesting period, I became interested in lipstick and nice fitting clothes- I tried to be as girly as possible, because the young man had a bevy of side chicks waiting to devour this little seedling.
I call them side chicks because I saw myself as the main. After all, he called me every other day and his friends greeted me well.
Haha. If only I knew.
I would write funny notes and pass them to him and he would write me back, until it sort of became our ‘thing’. Then he wrote me the longest letter I had ever received in my young life: longer thank my penpal’s letters in secondary school, but it was no big deal.
My guy promised to be with me to the end of the world, yet after first year in University we were already strangers; he had moved on to the next.
‘What happened to ‘I will always love you? Even if you asked me out and I didn’t accept, couldn’t you just wait for a while?’
‘You didn’t have my time’
Water under the bridge. *eye roll*
The only thing left of that ‘season’ is the sheet of paper where he declared that he would push my wheelchair if ever I had to be in one.
He was that intense.
The only love letter I believe now is my bible. The word that consistently comes up to get me, comes up for me in my lowest state.
If it says I’m going to prosper, I believe.
If it says I’m royalty, best believe there’s a throne waiting for my glorious backside to sit on it.
After all, before I could read, the Author already gave me a precious gift: the gift of salvation and eternal life.
I’m still hoping to write something as beautiful as The Psalms for him.
Does this make you remember a moment you got or gave one of those letters?
Have a wonderful week.