You’re the Only One I’m Dreaming of Part Two

My favorite part of a break up (since God works all things for my good, I try to at least see the good in everything) is the part after when you can think fondly of the person, appreciating who they are and what you had, being hindered neither by longing nor regret.

I hope you’ve experienced this. It’s a hard place to get to. It’s impossible without God’s grace. Without his gentle touch to remind me of good and eclipse hurt and change my hard, wicked heart to a fleshy one that he can heal.  I would say it’s taken me months of time and countless stumbles to get here. But it hasn’t. It’s taken God’s grace, and those other things are just how He chose to administer his grace in this area.

This may have been the day of our DTR. If not, it was a week before.

For a long time, until very recently, I couldn’t think about Q.  (you’ll have to read the last post for that to make sense).

I didn’t want to think about him because I was – and I cannot think of a stronger or more appropriate way to say this- DESPERATELY in love with him. Not one iota of me would have chosen for us to break up. I felt for him like I have never felt for another human being and how I wish I felt for Jesus-

One of my fave memories - I asked him to make a mean face. :)

except there was an almost equal measure of hurt for every ounce I had of love.

To elaborate, let me just say Q is gorgeous. He’s handsome on the outside and on the in. And I’ve only ever seen him do one thing at which he wasn’t just amazing: date me. (C’mon, everyone has their weak spots ;) ) But as bad as he was at dating me, I couldn’t for a moment escape that I was hooked. I was in. He was it for me. And he would’ve remained so, had it been up to me. Lucky for me, it wasn’t.

God’s sovereignty and plan dictated that we break up. and the 4 months after that were horrible. No measure of success in any other area compared to how painful it was to look at someone I wanted to be with, so bad, to know that he said he loved me, got to know me, and then took it back. (That may not have been how it was. It is how it felt.)

Finally, after much craziness, God’s sovereignty dictated that we agree to have no communication between then (early August) and December, whenever he comes back from OK for a visit. (He moved. another part of the saga for another time.) We agreed that, to relieve pressure until then, we’ll talk and catch up at that point. But that, unless God said to do otherwise, we were to proceed as though we aren’t together, and we never will be.

What a gift this time has been. There have been mornings when I woke up, knowing that he was really gone, in another state, really not mine, really not coming back for me, and found it difficult to get out of bed.  There have been times when I broke down in the middle of work, at home studying, and most often listening to some stupid love song. But progressively, God has shown me how he’s working on my heart.

He’s shown me the uselessness of a needy love. (a blog I’ll write soon)

He’s shown me the beauty of having nothing to offer Him, and in finding my value solely in Him, the beauty of what i have to offer the world.

He’s given me even more wonderful relationships with amazing, patient friends,

He’s made my relationship with Q’s family better than it ever had been in the past,

and finally, at the perfect time, he opened my heart up tonight (last night, now that you’re reading this) to the fact that He’s healed me.

Thinking of Q, I’m smiling. As I would any brother in Christ, I tout his many attributes. I praise God for all the amazing ways he served me. For laughs that were so fun to have. For fights that revealed to me my own sin. For beautiful words that someday, I’ll be able to appreciate for just what they were.

I love this guy. And if some day we get to be friends I hope I’ll be the sister I’m called to be.

I do not mourn my loss. I do not petition he’ll return to love me.

And when I close my eyes, it’s not him I see. It’s Jesus.

In all these things, I see that I am truly loved.

so many words. More later, I’m not done.

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