Broken Love

“Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” -1 Cor 13:5,7

Have you ever encountered someone who was really hard to love? Who kept you at arms’ length no matter how much you tried to love them?

Sisters, there’s someone like that in my life right now. Our sweet Lord has very clearly brought this person into my life for me to love in a special way, but that’s not always easy.

And you know why? Because she’s broken.

And often, loving people who are really broken brings out our own brokenness.

All too often, I want to quit. Give up. Throw in the towel. Lord, I can’t. I know you asked me to love her, but she won’t let me in. and when she does, she pushes me away again. It’s just too hard to love her.

And then I realize: what if the person that loved me at my most broken had said that same thing about me? What if my fear of being hurt and my hardness of heart had deterred her from loving me? What if she had chosen to throw in the towel instead of pursue me with that relentless love?

If she had done any of those things that I’m so tempted to do now, I would still be a broken, empty, hard woman.

Love bears all things, sisters, even the most broken things. Real love does not insist on its own way or its own timing, but rather, as Winnie the Pooh says, “Love is taking a few steps backward, maybe even more…to give way to the happiness of the person you love.”

Maybe sometimes in love, we need to step back from what we think love should be in order to realize what love really is.

Love is messy. And painful. And honestly, quite heartbreaking.

But more than all of that, love is a choice. A choice to will the good of the other person despite what might be easiest for us.

Sometimes that choice means that we have to confront our own brokenness. Sometimes it means that we have to keep going when we want to give up. Sometimes it means that we have to bear some pretty heavy stuff. Sometimes it means that we have to allow our own hearts to be broken. But always it means that we will find that all the brokenness we had to face was worth it.

Lord, cast out any fear of painful love that exists in our hearts. Root up our own ideas of what love should be and reveal to us what it actually is. Help us to meet the brokenness of others with the love with which you met us. When we are confronted with our own brokenness, help us to rejoice rather than to hide. Increase in us the virtue of ardent charity, that we may love each person we meet with Your love and not with our own.

A Love Letter to FUS Freshmen Women

Dear YOU,

Yes, you. You reading this post. You freshman woman at Franciscan University. You who feel isolated, overwhelmed, anxious, afraid. You who feel, paradoxically, at the same time, excited, confident, peaceful, and ready.

I'm a senior here at Franciscan. I'm one of those girls you see running around campus like a madwoman. I may seem distracted or uninterested, like I don't care about you or don't understand what you're going through, but that's not true.

I know how you feel.

I, too, feel isolated. I'm feel like no one understands what I'm going through. Like no one cares. I feel homesick and confused and alone sometimes. I'm living off campus this year, for the first time not in the same building as my best friends. I feel removed, like I'm not yet fully a part of campus. I feel the pain of this transition into a new home, just as you do.

I, too, feel overwhelmed. There's always so much going on: so much to do, so many people to meet and spend time with. I have studies, ministries, friends, family. I fall in to the trap all the time of thinking that I need to do more more more and get more involved in order to truly belong here. I feel like there's no way I can accomplish it all and feel the pressure of needing to.

I, too, feel anxious. Anxious for the future, anxious for my classes, anxious for the changes that inevitably come with growing older.

I, too, feel afraid. Afraid of the unknown. Afraid of the mountains in front of me that seem so big that I don't see how I'll be able to overcome them. Afraid of my own weaknesses and shortcomings. Afraid of having my heart broken by this world. Afraid of not being enough.

I, too, feel excited. Excited for all that this year holds. Excited to meet new people, to grow in faith and fellowship with my household, to learn what God has planned for my future.

I, too, feel confident. Confident that no matter where this journey takes me, I'll be blessed and happy. Confident that I will be able to overcome any obstacle the world places in my way, that I will be able to accomplish all that I need to with the grace of our Lord.

I, too, feel peaceful. Peaceful in the knowledge that I have a faithful God on my side who is always with me, guiding and protecting me. Peaceful knowing that even if the future is scary, the battle for my soul is already won.

I, too, feel ready. Ready for all of the joys and sorrows, triumphs and struggles that this year is sure to bring. Ready to grow in faith and love with the Lord. Ready to face His plans for my future. Ready to become the woman that He created me to be.

I know what you're feeling. I felt it all too when I was a freshman, and I feel it now as a senior. And, dear sister, I want you to know that I care. You aren't just another face in the crowd to me. You're my sister in Christ, and even if I seem completely indifferent, know that I'm not. I'm here for you, and so are countless other women of campus who know and understand all that you're feeling now.

You are not alone, dear one. Don't let the evil one whisper that lie into your ear.

Sweet sister, I love you. I'm praying for you.

Courage, dear heart.

It will get easier, I promise.

And in the meantime, I've got chocolate and tea.