Today I reminded a friend that this certain boy is not the last she will ever love. His arms will not be the last arms to ever hold her. He is not the last boy that will make her feel this way. From here, it can only get better. This will not be last boy to care for me. I want better. I am worth far more than he will apparently ever understand. My value does not come from what his blind eye sees, no. It comes from what Christ sees. I want a wild lover, one like Christ, not someone who is halfway in, halfway out. I want better.

So much to say and yet so much to conceal. Oh but that this looking glass were changeable - that to some it stay clear, but to others - merely a foggy memory of the truth that once was, but is lost. To pour out my heart into the discoverable nothingness in order to be heard in the sheer delight of understanding. And still, the timidity that comes with a door once opened that can not shut again.

How many doors in life have been opened, only later to wish they had stayed closed. Should one be closed all the time? Or are the experiences which are momentarily clouded over by the pain worth the lesson learned? And when do we understand? When is it okay?

Please, Lord. Let it be soon.