Word of The Week: Love

Words of The Day: Abused Love
Obviously, I abused love. I abused everything. Steph asked me this morning what my first memory of love was. I thought back to as far as I could remember, and I thought of when we were moving into our old house. We had to live in our grandma's house for 3 months. My Dad and I were always early risers, and so we would wake up early in the morning and make oatmeal. We would always tip-toe around the house, slippers on our feet; bath robes wrapped tightly around us to keep away the air conditioning that my grandma always had on. We whispered to each other, talking about nothing at all. He would make me a bowl of oatmeal, and once his was done, we would walk out onto the porch. We would watch the sun come up, and just silently eat our oatmeal, watching this beautiful thing that God made for us. In that moment, I was loved.
After I told my story, Steph asked me how I had gotten from that, to the love I thought I was getting two years ago.
My heart started thinking back to everytime I thought I was loved.
The first time a boy asked me out.
The second boy who asked me out.
My first kiss, in Skate City.
When we laid on his bed together.
When he told me he thought he loved me, even though we'd never met.
When we went to the theaters, and didn't watch a minute of the movie.
The first time he said, "If you loved me, you would..."
The moment I opened the car door, knowing it would be gone.
When he called me after and said, "I love you. I love you. I love you. I'm sorry."
The first time we snuck out.
In those moments, I was a piece of meat. Something to win, something to see how far they could get with me. Something to destroy, something to ruin. Something to use and abuse.
And then I remember something else. Something different.
I remember seeing His love for the first time. I remember Him smacking me in the head and saying, "I know you, and I love you anyway."
I remember His voice through my head; His hands places on my back as I cried, and let it all go.
I remember feeling saved. Feeling enough.
I remember hearing the story of His crucifixion REALLY for the first time, and crying, wishing I had SOMETHING to give in return.
I remember hearing His definition of love. I remember the times I failed, again and again, and I knew He was tugging on my heart.
I remember accepting Him into my heart.
In that moment, I was loved.

How did I get to where I was? It doesn't matter to me. Because now, I know true love. I know the love of Jesus Christ. And that is all I need.