Journals of the Heart

By Dineen A. Miller

Sometimes I feel like I’m sitting on the beach at the water’s edge. The waves keep coming either washing over me in a soft surge or bowling me over with a giant push. As the waters recede, I barely have time to recover. Water drips from my face, my matted hair, and stings my eyes.

In the distance I see another wave coming, building in its ferocity. Will it be a small one, or will it be the one to truly do me in? The wave swells, eating the water in front of it like a ravenous beast. I dig my fingers into the sand, but the previous waves have loosened the grains to watery mush. I can find nothing to cling to.

Then you’re there, holding out your hand. Your palm is warm and chases away the chills quaking through my body. I meet your gaze and find peace and calmness, but I can hear the roar of the approaching wave. I look away and fear consumes me again. My fingers slip from yours as I try to warn you of the threat.

Very softly, you call my name. “Dineen.”

I can barely hear your voice above the building rumble of water.

“Dineen.”

Reluctantly I look away from the growing threat, so close now I feel the first tremble of its spray. You’re still there, offering your peace, comfort and reassurance. I see it all in your face, and I feel your strength like a jolt of confidence surging through my bones, strengthening my resolve.

I reach for your hands-both this time. You pull me to my feet. I look down at the sand, careful to keep my hands in yours. The wave hits and crashes around our ankles. I feel the fury of the water, but I am not shaken. The wave, which had seemed so overwhelming, now recedes, diminished and broken.

I look again at you. Awe fills me. The tender smile on your face tells me you don’t judge me for my fear. I’m safe now-chosen, accepted, blessed, adopted, forgiven, redeemed.

Loved.

The words tumble in my mind, but I know they’re from you. I don’t know what to say. How do I believe?

Your eyes soften. You pull me into a hug that chases away any remaining fears and doubts.

One word-you speak one word. “Mine.”

I snuggle closer. Tears of joy spring to my eyes. I speak the only thing I can. “Yours.”

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Dineen A Miller Copyright 2007