Hidden: Part 2

A friend gave words to me the other day: could it be perhaps, just maybe, the hiding you’re experiencing is not only because of Him but also because of you?

I’d never thought this whole time I could also be hiding myself. But on further reflection, it makes a whole lot of sense.

The idea of love, in its truest sense and the reality of what it requires very much scares me. I want to be known but do I want to take the risk?

I want to be seen but do I want all of me seen, failures, sins, nuances, quirks, bruises, mistakes, the me at times I’m working so very hard not to be?

Poetical refrains and sugary melodies about love to come, love to want, love that is desired in the perfect right one can be down right sappy and selfish sometimes. Toni got it right and right now I don’t want to hear another sad love song on the radio, iPod, MP3 or light-weighted CD. 

But I must confess: I’m the biggest offender of them all, all the sappiness and selfishness when I let my perception and self-centered objectives overtake my sensibilities of what and how I want love to come and be.

Love is not about me. Love is not about me. Love is not about me. Love is not about me. Love is about the one who gets it from me in return. Love is giving. Love is living. Love is willing. Love is thrilling. Love is singing. Love is dreaming. At the very core of what it is, it can never, ever be about me.

I own this, I declare this: I’ve been hiding myself just as much as He’s been purposeful to hide me. I’ve been hiding behind what I want love to do for me, never addressing what love requires of me.

I can’t be present and engaging only in the moments where I perceive the type I think fits my puzzle pieces is in close proximity. I gotta be me and all me, available, communicating, real, relevant, the fierce and beautiful deal, not hiding, not pretending, not peeking, but actually being.

Words are a gift: give them well. My friend gave me several on this day, challenging me, prodding me, “You’ll never know when he’ll show up, so scarves and rollers can’t be your cover-up.”

Though 32 years of breaths and eye blinks have passed through me, my years of living quite frankly don’t always match the fears my naïve heart has in giving, giving of self, being bare, vulnerable and completely right there, there in that moment, there in that truth, there ready to be myself without taking another look.

Give of yourself fully. Take the risk. You fear rejection, hurt and damage. But move forward, no second backward glances. Walk toward a heart just trying to find its way from being hidden as well. Just walk. One foot in front of the other. Just walk.

Melody Latrice Copenny Copyright ©
Written November 24, 2011

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