(and it's okay.)

I was sitting on the couch, his arms around me, sinking into his frame that's begun to carry a sense of home. I have found safety here, comfort in this place. We weren't saying anything of much importance, just the typical back and forth of two extroverts who are up way past their bedtimes. Sometimes we would cease speaking all together, and I would notice that in the silence and the closeness, I could hear the rhythm of his heart. In that moment, I realized that I couldn't remember the last time I heard someone's heartbeat. I couldn't remember the last time I let someone close enough to even hug me, pushing away any attempt that my friends and family would make at physical touch.

I'm learning that it's okay to let someone be close.

I said some very typical and blunt Alyssa-y comment and he rolled his eyes laughing and pulled me closer. In that moment, the familiar strong-willed leader inside of me clashed with this foreign desire to let someone else lead the way, and I was surprised at how beautiful those contradictions felt. The clashing didn't spark, didn't explode, but those oppositions melded with each other, complementary colors on the wheel.

I'm learning that submission isn't a bad thing at all for this campus minister, but it's the Creator's most perfect way.

No matter where we are or what we're doing, when I look him in the eyes I'm met with a gaze that says "I care about you, and I love you, and I'm not going anywhere." That, for me, is different. But that look is also easy to give and receive when butterflies are fluttering or when I'm laughing so hard that tears roll down my face. What about when we're angry? What about when one (or both) of us are in need of forgiveness?

During our biggest disagreement, I remember storming past him flaunting my typical "I'm passive-aggressive but I want you to know I'm extremely unhappy" response. And when I turned around to see how he'd react to my craziness, his eyes reflected back the same look that I've come to know so well, filled with so much grace and care, and he calmly reminded me that he loved me.

I am learning that no matter how I'm acting, I am loved for who I am, not for what I do or how I behave or even how I'm thinking in the moment.

It's okay to make myself known, to let someone in on all of the broken pieces of myself as well as all of the parts that I like. I am learning that when God is center, there lies true grace and joy and forgiveness and love. When Christ is the foundation, that look in his eyes is unchanging, and "I love you" is based off of a commitment, not a feeling. Jesus is freeing me from the fear of letting people in, of making myself known, of giving another imperfect person permission to unintentionally hurt me (and vice versa) as we both seek to grow in holiness and grace. And, oh, after years of fearing to let people in, there is rest in allowing someone else to see the whole of me.

I am learning that it's okay to just let go.

God is teaching me about the greatest part of His character: His love. Though I still don't grasp it fully, I understand His love more now than I ever have before, and I want to know it more. For if a grace and comfort can be found in the love of a person, how much more can they be found in the love of the One who is Love?

To be close enough to hear His heartbeat, to call His arms home, that is what I long for. God, as I'm learning to know and be known, would You use it to always point me back to You, the only One who loves perfectly.