Letter to a Broken Heart
My dear friend,
For what it’s worth, I know what you’re going through. I have lived long enough to recognize that look, those tears and the face of rejection; they are like old, familiar friends. I know what it’s like to be important for a while and then to be replaced, taken for granted, put on the shelf, placed on the back burner and even forgotten. I have lived long enough to know that the exclusive friendships are the ones that die and only those that are inclusive and shared with others are the ones that survive. It’s like the difference between the Dead Sea and the Sea of Galilee; the Dead Sea is perfectly named for it has no tributaries, no viable links to others, all closed in on itself, unshared and therefore – dead. While the Sea of Galilee, fed partly by underground springs, has the Jordan River as its main source which flows through it from north to south, and continues to thrive and produce and provide for others, teeming with beauty precisely because it remains open to the life that surrounds it.
So, for what it’s worth, I know this pain, this old familiar feeling of being thrown out like a pair of old shoes which at one point were so close and so important only to have somehow lose value, worth and yes, even usefulness. I have also lived long enough to know that sometimes this pain is good especially if it helps us recognize who our real friends are, the people who’ve always been there, those who have never lost faith in us, the ones who perhaps have silently been hoping and waiting for those welcoming invitations to special moments, making new memories, or maybe even a surprise message that says how important they really are. I guess what I’m trying to say is that the old adage is true; you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone, or, maybe until something tragic happens to remind you that often the best treasures that you really have are the ones right beneath your feet. They are still to be discovered unlike the pretty rainbows that we sometimes chase and pursue until they disappear as we move closer to them.
If this pain helps us see better with sober eyes and un-infatuated hearts, then we will readily find the One who is there surrounded by the ones who complete the great landscape of our life. As I said earlier, I have a lived long enough to know and believe with great certainty that there are only three types of people who walk into our lives. They are there for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Only time, tears, experience, and wisdom can tell the difference. Jesus died in order to teach this critical lesson. Love, above all, always involves sacrifice and dying to one’s self. Is that hard? Absolutely, but always remember that we follow a Man who found His way out of a grave. Learn this now while you’re still breathing. It’s better than a Degree. Trust me. I know.
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