Open Your Heart, Love

“My Dearest Love,” the pen wrote on the blank page resting on a wooden desk. 

God appeared in the chair, small rectangular wire rimmed reading glasses precariously balancing on his nose. He studied the page, watching the pen dance as it delicately scrolled each letter. 

What mattered was not the words on the page, what mattered were the words God was speaking to her heart. I could feel his concern for her worries, how deeply he cared about her feelings. He wanted to send someone to love her, but it was not the right time. That too worried him. Timing. 

He leaned back in his chair, reflecting on her heart, her life, her situation. 

“My love,” he spoke, his voice deep and loving, resonating through to the depths of her soul. “You are wise.”  

He paused, as if searching for a way to connect with her differently. 

“You are not seeking my words, you desire my presence.” 

He stood, took off the glasses, and set them on top of the paper and left. He appeared beside her, sitting in an open chair in her living room, watching as she contemplated life. He walked through her day with her, observing the way her thoughts drifted to her future and to the feelings weighing on her heart. 

“My love,” he whispered in her ear. “Be not afraid to love where you are. I know it is not the magic you hoped it would be, but there is so much magic to be.” 

Her soul constricted with frustration. “Why is it all so hard?” 

“Open your heart, love,” God whispered to her heart. 

She tried to relax, to release, and to expand her love, but she was stopped by the memories of the pain she had experienced through love and because of love. 

“Let me take those,” God whispered to her soul. 

Tiny particles of light rose out of her like dust in a sunbeam. 

“Let me take those, love. Let me take those.” 

Some were ready to let go. Some were not. “When you are ready, love,” God whispered to her soul, “let me have them.”