(Source: keiraandsomemarmite)
“I love you.”
I was young and insecure, and I wanted to hear someone say this to me— not in the way my parents, relatives, or friends always spoke these three words to me, but in a way that was entirely different, from someone who wasn’t the same as everyone I’d spent my life with.
A year and a half ago, I finally had that chance. I met someone, and he was very, very different from the rest. Adventurous, rebellious, and reckless. Intelligent, talented, and funny. Caring, understanding, and sweet. Everything changed. I knew I won’t ever let him get away. Weeks passed, more time was spent with him, and I realized that I already possessed emotions that were risky, and won’t sound right if I opened them up to my parents. I fell for him.
Funny, he felt the same way too, and we let each other know.
I only had God and my friends to open up to. My parents won’t approve. I was very immature, yes, but I knew that God understood me. He knew my need. I was struggling then with my relationship with my dad, and our family was in a financial crisis. I wanted a shoulder I can really lean and cry on, someone I can tell my troubles too, a voice that will soothe me with the right words, and a hand that will hold and squeeze mine. That person was the only one who told me those three words, and let me really feel it. Looking back, I was really lonely. I remember the relief I felt— the freedom— when I was with him. I was fourteen years old, and was very, very lost and very, very shortsighted.
However, in life, I realize that you can’t be the only one who’s suffering. You can’t be the only person with a problem. Everyone is going through what I do, and I failed to see that. I forgot that he was going through more difficult things than I did. I depended on him too much, and he did his best. He did his best to carry both mine and his burdens. He cared for me too much. This, I still know.
His care didn’t make him less or more of a human than I was, though. One day, he broke down. Gave up. Became confused. He tried his best to hide it, tried his best to look strong for me, tried his best to still make things stay the same. However, with his life in a mess, and with his future and family at stake, he had to give me up. If he was to solve his own problems, and clear everything in his life out, he decided that I had to go.
That was the summer before my senior year. I went through depression, insomnia, self-pity, and confusion. The worst of them was pitying myself. There was a time I cut myself, and wrote on my prayer journal with my blood. I wanted it to end— didn’t see want to see the what was in the future. I hated and was disgusted of myself.
This was a different Pamela. She was heartbroken, and she stopped believing in herself. She felt like a hypocrite for going back to church, or going back to God after all she had done. She knew didn’t deserve the love of Jesus, didn’t understand His sacrifice on the cross, and didn’t know who her Savior really is. She wanted to die, wanted to erase the past, and was always afraid to look back.
But God touched her, and I am grateful, when He held her hand, and made her see hope. When He spoke through her and used her in an evangelistic mission in Bataan that same summer. She started to changed, and if that didn’t happen, I would not be here now.
I realized that God had plans for me. I realized that He didn’t care about all the horrible things I saw in myself. He still embraces me. He still blesses me. He still upholds me. He won’t ever let go of me.
I cried and cried and cried the night I re-committed myself to Him on that shore. Jesus was so good. He showed me that I was his little stream. One day, this stream will be bigger. I will be a channel of life to others. The process may be long and slow but it’s all going to be okay. He won’t give up on me. He ALONE will hold me. Treasure me. Protect me.
“I love you, Pam,” He said, and it never felt so good. I knew that my Father meant it. These three words are my Father’s promise. I just began crying out, “Lord, why are you so good to me?” into the night. I was face down in the sand, and I was crying out of joy. Shouting out of awe, and relief. I knew that all the pain, all the bitterness, all the hurt were taken out of me as I sobbed them all out from God.
I admitted how foolish I was to seek anyone but Him. I was so foolish to hold Him second place in my heart. I was so shortsighted to seek for pleasure from this world, when His offer is pure everlasting joy and assurance. But God touched me. He said, “Don’t judge yourself for your imperfect commitment to me. What matters is my commitment to you. This I promise to you, beloved. I will love you for the rest of your life. You will receive the fullest of my grace, my favor, my affection, and my provision every second.” That was May 19, 2011.
More than a year after that night, I can testify that my God kept His promise. Everyday, I step out into the world, with a smile in my face, hope in my heart, a promise in my hands, and an identity in my soul, as I feel my Father’s presence around me. I am confident. I hear my Father tell me, “I love you, beloved. I am with you, today. Let Me carry your burdens for you.”
