Distance is a heavy word. It becomes nearly unbearable when paired with loneliness. I’ve carried both on my shoulders as I’ve gotten older, wondering how to lay down this burden. But I have learned to rest, and in those moments something magical happens.
On a day in September, this magic came in the form of a friend. After watching many come and go through my time in college, I was apprehensive to let someone else into the heart I so bravely guarded. Loving people and watching them leave felt like an impossible task. But being afraid to care for someone because they will leave is like shutting the curtains on the sun. You love the sun, but knowing it will set at the end of the day is too hard and instead you close yourself from its warmth completely.
For a long time, I shut the curtains on the sunlight around me. As expected, my life looked much darker. But I was stubborn, and refused to let the light in. I convinced myself that the loneliness would eventually feel comfortable, and soon became content in my self-inflicted solitude. However, per my vulnerability or the irony of the Lord’s timing, my curtains were drawn open.
My heart, which had been held captive by fear for too long, spilled out in front of me. As I bent to retrieve it, my burdens rolled off my shoulders and into the hands of another. But instead of returning them, she replaced them with her hand in mine. She lead me into the sunshine and showed me with glittering eyes what wondrous joy a companion can bring. I watched in awe at her courage and love towards the strangers around her.
She carried her own burdens with resilience, not forgetting the pain of the past, but choosing instead to experience the inescapable beauty life can offer. I felt myself stand taller by her side, learning from her hospitable spirit as she walked with grace and purpose.
I looked for you in the people I passed on the street. In the hands of those I held and in the hugs I felt. In the tears I wiped away from tired eyes and a weary heart, I looked for you. I looked for a friend who was seeking her heavenly Father more than the world. A friend who would love those around her imperfectly but genuinely. And some time ago, I found you. I found a friend whose brokenness was beautiful and whose joy was sincere. I felt my heart tug open; quickly, like petals on a spring flower. I felt myself opening up around this human. As if our lives were so intricately woven into each other’s by a Creator’s hand with such grace and peace. A new friend. An answered prayer. Gentle steps, fruitful words, and my heart felt full again. Thank you, for speaking truth back into my life. For knitting my heart back together and for bringing inexpressible joy in this season. You are light. Because of your kindness. Your faith. Your laughter. Your pain. You are light because you carry light Himself in your heart. You are light, and you are my friend.
You’re far away now, but I’ve left the curtains open. For the light from your soul was too great to shut out. You taught me how to see the fun in spontaneity and delight in looking at the world with a curious mind. Though pain is inevitable and distance may be heavy, it is not triumphant over the joy that comes from opening up your heart.
And this open heart has brought a multitude of new beginnings. Fear has been dismissed by friends. There are nights filled with laughter, the Lord’s sweet presence, and many, many cookies. You taught me that showing up for others does not mean I must neglect myself. The souls I’ve had the privilege to pour into have reminded me of the love that Jesus showed to those around him. Though he walked on earth, Jesus didn’t walk alone. And neither should we.
The sun is warm. Don’t be afraid to let the light in.