Walking in the Light

Before I start, I just want to say that this is a post I’ve been deliberating a lot on whether or not to publish. This is actually a really personal and important experience I’m about to relate, but my fear is not that I’ll be too open for my own comfort but that this post will come off as being preachy or pretentious. Isn’t that always the way it is with matters of spirituality? I want to share my excitement and my enthusiasm without coming off as braggadocios, preachy, judgmental, or pretentious. Just know that if this post does come off that way, then it’s because I failed at writing it correctly and not because that was my intention.

But I think I should start with a little bit of self-psychoanalysis (See, @theblackswan, we *can* psychoanalyze ourselves!). As previous posts have suggested, I believe, one of the most important things – and possibly THE most important thing – in my life is the people I care about. I have some truly wonderful friends who I’ve known for a very long time. Most of these people are more like siblings than unrelated friends. And there is nothing in the world more important or more enjoyable to me than spending time in their presence.

I wouldn’t say now that I’m particularly more dependant by nature than other people, though it’s always been a question I’ve struggled with. I’ve always valued independence and self-sufficiency, but I’ve always had a very acute need to be with/around the people I love. These two never seemed to jive, so my understanding of myself as a person has fluctuated from independent to dependent with some startling amount of frequency.

But I don’t think it’s necessarily dependence that drives my need to be with my loved ones. Instead, I think it’s something intrinsically more beautiful. The fact is that I find myself giving away pieces of my very heart to these people. Through the times we’ve shared and spent, the conversations we’ve had, and the love that’s grown between us, I discover that I have, intentionally or not, entrusted to these people a very important part of myself, and in return, these people have become a part of me. One good friend calls me “the parrot”, because I tend to pick up the mannerisms of the people I spend a lot of time with, but I think it’s less of a copycat situation and more of an instance of me allowing someone to enter my spirit. I don’t know if this makes any sense - I’m finding it difficult to put into words.

In any case, when I see these special people, it’s like I’m put back into contact with a piece of myself that has been missing, and it feels, in the most real way I have ever experienced, like coming home. Like puzzle pieces fitting back together, I find a relief, a comfort, and a deep satisfaction in being in the presence and company (literally or over the phone, via letters, etc.) of the guardians of these pieces of my heart. Nothing makes me happier or gives me a greater sense of contentment or joy.

Yesterday, I picked up my rosary for the first time in months and proceeded to pray the glorious mysteries. Always the multi-tasker, I did this while I was walking my dog Asher. It was a surprise to find myself experiencing the same feelings of comfort and contentment while praying to Christ, Prince of the Morning, and His dear Mother that I feel in the tangible presence of the previously mentioned friends and family members. Happiness washed over me, and I felt peace. I felt whole. It felt like coming home again.

To most of you, this is probably no great surprise. It seems obvious to even the most basically religious-minded person that the heart’s home rests in Christ, and while I’ve always technically known this theory, of course, yesterday was genuinely my first experience like this. It was a beautiful and enlightening one.

I believe that Christ sent the wonderful, special people with whom I share my heart into my life as a way to show me some of the intricacies and grandeur of the relationship I intrinsically share with Him as His beloved. I can’t say with any amount of certainty or honesty that “my whole heart belongs to Christ” or “He is my everything”. As much as I wish those things were true, they aren’t – not now, at least. But He did take the opportunity yesterday to teach me something important: that my home is Him, just as much as it is my brothers and sisters, and someday, with grace, it will be more so.