At the age of 13, between my fluctuating self-esteem, asking my mom how to use eyeliner, and Beyoncé’s wise words, I embraced the fact that if a guy ever loved me, then one day, he would put a ring on it. So I dreamt of the day I would marry my lifelong best friend, and I made a vow to myself that I would guard my heart until the right person came along. The one thing Beyoncé didn’t teach me was that in order to learn the difference between guarding your heart and locking it down, you had to experience a free fall.
Heartbreak is inevitable. We are either 5-years old and our parents do not buy us the toy we want, or we are 17 and singing Coldplay’s “The Scientist” as our phone stops buzzing as frequently as it did from the person we though could really be the one. At 17, I sat in my chemistry class as my teacher explained why ammonia and bleach couldn’t be mixed, all while deciphering some guy’s text message. Guess who ended up mixing the ammonia and bleach during the lab? Between the heart and smiley emojis he sent, I could feel the color in my cheeks change color, and I imagined the pupils in my brown eyes expanded, as if trying to capture the entirety of his being with my imagination. As my hands anxiously twisted the curls in my hair, waiting for that next message, I refused to believe that the cliché of falling in love with your best friend would soon become my reality. Convinced that I was not “pure of heart” if I ever fell for someone who wasn’t the one, I let fear embody the silhouette of my freedom, and I locked my heart down. We had more of a flirtatious charade composed of text messages, phone calls, and hanging out on occasions, which I refused to call dates. Nonetheless, I built those castle walls tall, because: “if you wouldn’t marry him, don’t date him” I always told myself.
Noah (we’ll use this name for the sake of anonymity) and I grew up and went to school together for some time, and he eventually became one of my best friends. We had a lot in common, and I was convinced he would one day become a great man of God, that I could fix all his imperfections, make him the guy of my dreams, and we would tell our children how we were high school sweethearts, and how we fell in love. I trusted that since Noah liked me, he would wait to go out with me until I was ready. He would wait for the fear I had of falling in love to fade away as he said all the right words. And he did say all the right words. He promised me a future full of godliness and purity, and teased about marriage and adventure, because what could be better than marrying your best friend? But Noah had another friend- one he assured me would never become more than a friend. That just wasn’t true.
Flash forward a year later, and he’s sending some other girl the same messages and false promises. You don’t get to tell a girl who is learning to love herself that you like her, and then suddenly stop talking to her other than when you need her. That is to take the petal of a rose, pluck it out, and blow it in the direction of weeds. The next few months revolved around me questioning whether I was still “pure of heart.” And so my prayers went a little something like this:
“I wasted so much time talking to him, Lord. I mean, I didn’t actually date him, or really really love him, so I’m still pure of heart right? Did I somehow just fail my future husband? Did I flirt with him? I’m socially awkward, I don’t even know how to flirt. Was I now tainted? He just wasn’t the one and yet here I am crying over a boy hiding behind a beard. Why didn’t You, warn me God?”
At 18, I found myself in the middle of a sermon when I heard my pastor talk about bitterness and the power of freedom in forgiveness. “YES AND AMEN.” I was convinced I had this locked down. I was convinced I didn’t have any resentment toward anyone because I had forgiven Noah, and I had wished him the best in life. I was convinced. But I was still scared of falling in love. I went to sleep at night thinking that I had to be extra careful next time I liked someone, because my discernment could fail me again. I realized there’s saying “I forgive him for toying with my feelings”, and then there’s giving it all to God. This is the opening of your ears to hear God say “I have something better in store”, and wiping the salve away from your eyes to realize that God is right. This is where you wave your white flag, you let God turn your heartbreak into victory, and where you embrace freedom where fear once stood. THIS is “yes, and amen.”
A few hours after that sermon, I found myself sitting on the floor of my bedroom and letting it all go. Tears of redemption caressed my face as I embraced forgiveness and freedom. I took a deep breath in, a deep breath out, and reminded myself that it is not in how people love me that makes me who I am, but in how I love people. Purity became more about the depth of love, rather than in how many people I would fall in love with. I encountered freedom in loving people, and in loving those who hurt me. Guarding my heart meant I would value myself, and learn to wait in God’s timing in order to not settle. Locking it down, however, meant I would not allow love to enter, in order to be safe- but I now know that that does not work. If I ever wished to love people, I would have to allow myself to receive love, and to give it in return. I learned to wish that same guy the best in life, and to wish his girlfriend the best, and for them to experience a love that is right and pure, because that is who I am. When my future daughter comes to me about her first heartbreak, I will not teach her to hate someone who failed to see the best in her. I will not allow her veins to embody bitterness and fear. Instead, I will teach her that because her heart brims with tenderness, she will love with a love so fierce that even those who have wronged her will know what they lost and that it speaks much of who she is. I will teach her to love herself with the same intensity that the skies roar with at night. On one of those sleepless nights, I wrote my future daughter a poem, subconsciously dedicating it to myself as well.
Excerpt:
“For the times when you question your beauty, I will tell you, you are softest shade of pink any palette of pastels has ever seen.
When you see yourself as the tainted cloth on an abandoned shelf, I'll be here to remind you that you are the canvas upon which God's very breath has breathed life into.
And for the times when you think of your voice as the kiss of Judas, I'll be here to tell you it is the tangible presence of angels in the midst of any grave- bringing me to life.
You are the thunderstorm in my morning cup of tea, the sunset in your sister's eyes, and the glint of pride in your father's singing.
And I pray that you learn the difference between guarding your heart and locking it down. For in the midst of compassion and vulnerability, you will learn, and it will hurt, but you will learn.”
So, if not for the nights I spent thinking about the conversations I missed, the loss of a good friendship, and for the false promises once made, the walls around my heart would still be standing today. Do not let heartbreak change the way you love, for in the architecture of our being, we were crafted with a need for love, and the ability to love- and wholeheartedly at that. So, fall in love with the way the barista half-heartedly makes your coffee in the mornings. Fall in love with the person who walked past you and didn’t smile back. Fall in love with imperfect people, and fall in love with yourself, and understand that love is not safe, and that the kingdom walls we build will not protect us from the free falls. One day, other than in God Himself, if it has not already happened, we will encounter someone in whose love we find a home. It will be within the sheltering of their eyes that we find that we are loved, and that rose petals do not belong in a field of weeds, but rooted strongly in the foundations of love, and a love that is pure. We are rose gardens, and we are human, and freedom is not found within the walls we build in our hearts, but in the act of breaking them down, because our love is all too strong to be withheld.