On loving deeply

Thursday, August 16, in the London Heathrow airport on the way here, I wrote: "It's worth it to love, even when it makes the goodbyes harder. It's worth it to take a risk, even though there's that moment of limbo before the path becomes clear. It's worth it to go full-tilt after the dream."

And now, a full cycle later, here I am. I have mourned the goodbyes, felt overwhelmed in a new place, and decided anyway to invest in relationships without counting the cost. I have tested the waters, taken risks, asked questions, opened my heart, pressed on through conflict and confusion, shared joy and sorrow and anger and apathy. I have opened up a space in my life and allowed others to occupy it. I have loved deeply.

Is it worth it?

Every day this week I have said goodbye to at least one person and at least one piece of my heart. Every day this week I have cried. Every day this week I have begun adjusting to life without someone, only to say goodbye again.

Is it worth it?

These past few days I haven't quite known how to live. I wake up in the morning with a hole in my heart. I laugh at the ever-present reminders of all the shared jokes, but there's a hollow ache when the jokes are no longer shared. I go through my days viewing every person as a potential goodbye-- better keep my distance, this one's just a matter of time.

Is it worth it?

It would have been a lot easier to stay closed-off and safe, sporting a grand "no-entry" sign. It would have been easier to disengage and walk away the moment it became difficult. It would be easier now to bury myself in work and dreaming and even Jesus, all things I can count on never to leave me. Even now, it's a choice.

So is it worth it?

Pieces of my heart are missing, but they are not dead. Pieces of my heart have come alive, broken off (yes, it's painful), and taken flight to the corners of the world. Those pieces of my heart continue living, blessing, transforming their environments, safeguarded within the hearts of those I love. And bits of their hearts have taken root in my own. My heart has become mosaic, colorful, vibrant, diverse, growing, wise, and more alive than it was six months ago. It is part of a bigger system, a network, vines interwoven and interdependent and only really alive through connection and contact. It is messy, it is complicated, it is like a system of nerves that allow me to feel both a sting and a caress.

But it is worth it.

And I will do it again.