a letter to you from me

control is a funny thing.

the older i get and the more i experience life, i learn that i have both more and less control over myself, other people, and the circumstances around us all.

i learn that i am a drop in the bucket, a vapor in the wind, a flower quickly fading, a grain of sand, a piece of the puzzle. who i am and everything i have is a complex combination of the attitudes, desires, decisions, mistakes, victories, struggles, joys, beginnings, and ends of a billion other forces in this universe we all exist in.

forces: my family, your family, your family’s family, your doctor, my old dentist, (thank God for) my new dentist, my kindergarten teacher, the U.S. army, the French army, the cash me ousside girl, Mila Kunis, my cousin’s hairdresser, the dangerous way shrubbery sometimes blocks your view when you’re trying to make a left turn, the dog park that forever stunk until the apartment complex finally decided to rip it up and turn that space into a patio, the administration of my university, the queen of Lebanon, the 1950s American ideology of the feminine mystique, the Great Pyramids of Giza, the tornadoes that wrecked houses and lives in North Texas last year, the amount my church collected from the offering last Sunday, the stranger who sat next to me at Starbucks this afternoon, the newest drug the FDA approved this morning, the weather, nature, time, animals, natural disasters, the stock market, Satan (yeah, he gets in the way sometimes), popular media, the government, the healthcare system, fashion trends, rich people, poor people, educated people, people who never finished the third grade, my future grandchildren, your great-grand uncle.

every moment you and i live in is, at the time that it happened, at the tail end of an infinitely long series of events made possible by a million gazillion trillion forces at work.

too many little forces to count.

they’re little, because there’s one big force holding them all together. cutting through the chaos, the good, the bad, the joys, the sorrows. making a story, painting a picture, growing a garden, healing the broken, redeeming the unredeemable, finding the lost, breaking every chain. this force is bigger than i can ever imagine, this force is bolder than i can ever hope for, this force is more alive and real than i often believe. this force is a person. my God. my Savior. my Friend. my Lord.

outside of time, my God makes the impossible possible and the possible impossible. He says i am finished but also, at the same time, a work in progress. He says i have nothing to offer but that my heart – as proud, twisted, selfish, and confused as it often is – brings him unspeakable measures of delight. He says to focus on the things that are above and to deny myself but He comes to my side and hears my every cry even before it escapes my mouth. He is concerned about big things. He is about changing the world and saving nations. But He stopped and sat next to me when i woke up in my bed yesterday and covered my face in my hands because my heart hurt. He held me in His arms when i sat at church later that morning, chest heavy from the ache i felt keenly inside. the ache of having to lose something, someone. the ache of knowing and having to accept a change in how you relate to me and i relate to you.

i didn’t expect you. i didn’t know there was more to you than the lanky, obnoxious grad student in my classes who didn’t know how to shut up. i had never really paid much attention to you. i thought i knew who you were, but i was wrong. i didn’t know you had a story, that you were different. i didn’t know you would see me and think that i was different. i couldn’t predict you would look past what everyone else saw when they looked at me–and see what made me, me. you were my biggest surprise.

i thought i knew what i was looking for. i had an image, albeit fuzzy, of what that was in my mind. you didn’t come anywhere close to fitting that description. and yet – i fell for you. i fell pretty hard. i fell in love with your heart.

your heart is strong, your heart is pure, your heart is humble. it is wise beyond its years but so hopeful and trusting almost to the point of innocence. it believes all things, hopes all things. it’s suffered much but refuses to close itself off to the one Force who can protect it best. your heart doesn’t believe in shortcuts and knows that true beauty is forged out of fire, out of the waiting, out of the testing, out of the prayers. your heart is beautiful.

you couldn’t understand why i “gave you a chance”, but i, on the other hand, found myself unable to resist you. you are rare. you are special. you are one in a million. you took my breath away. you stole my heart and then broke it for its first time.

i don’t know what the future holds. i don’t know if i will look back on this in two days, two years, or two decades and think this is the stupidest thing i’ve ever written and be ashamed. i don’t know if we will end up together or not. and i know you don’t know either. but He knows. He is, at this very moment, spinning together a million little forces on behalf of you, on behalf of me, on behalf of this world, on behalf of His glory. He asked me if i wanted to see His glory, and today i promised Him i did. and so i give up control. control over who and what you mean to me. control over my heart, over my emotions. i trust that He is good. i trust His ways are better. i trust that He cares for me just as He cares for you.

i trust that He’s doing a good work in you and that He’s doing a good work in me, too. remember how i said control was a funny thing? well here’s why: i control whether or not i let Him do that good work in me. i control my response to His grace and His mercy overflowing onto me. i control whether i will let Him lead me by gentle and still waters. i control if i will allow Him to show me something wonderful and bigger than i could ever imagine. it is my prayer that i allow Him to mold me into everything i was created to be – today, tomorrow, forever.

and wherever you are right now, i pray the same is true for you, too.

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4 thoughts on “a letter to you from me

  1. dang. this actually blew my mind.
    i had to read it multiple times over and will keep reading it because it is profound.
    these words drip truth, and i really needed to read them. it’s personal yet universal.
    your heart is about the most beautiful thing on this Earth, you know. i am so incredibly lucky to walk with you. you are perhaps the biggest/most important ‘little’ forces in my life.

  2. Aveline, your words are beautiful. Beautiful in the way that they reflect your heart with all of its aches and longing, beautiful in the way that it surrenders your will to God. It really is a privilege to know you.

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