Letting Love In

I’ve been finding myself sitting in the sun several times this past week. It’s that winter sun that invites you outside even in the cooler temperatures, because you know it will be gentle and healing. And my heart has needed healing.

A week ago my aunt in South Africa passed away. She was my mother’s older sister and I have many fond memories of her from my childhood. More recently, she was a key person in helping me answer questions I had of my mother who, at that stage of her Alzheimer’s disease, was unable to answer. I will forever be grateful for the stories she told, the insight she gave, and the motherly love she poured out on me knowing it would be something I’d forever miss. As I’ve taken time to remember her this week and share the love and comfort she gave me with my family scattered all over the world, I’ve also sat and pondered love.

I cannot give what I haven’t received.

I’ve thought of how I’ve grown in my capacity to love over the years. How my heart has stretched to love three daughters, how it’s awakened to a love for the marginalized, and how it’s been tested to stay soft in the midst of loss and disappointment. I’ve come to realize that I love deeply. I love people and their stories, I feel their struggles, and share their joys. It’s how I’m wired on the inside, with curiosity and compassion, but it’s also something outside of me - bigger than me - because I recognize that my inner resources get depleted and I find myself unable to do it in my own strength. A reminder to me that I cannot give what I haven’t received.

As I consider this, I’ve realized how this love exchange usually happens so naturally. We receive smiles from people as we go about our day, we have regular interchanges with colleagues in the office or with our server at restaurants. We fill up on the energy of fellow travelers in bustling airports or as we worship with fellow believers in church. Our emotional tanks are constantly being filled making it possible to give from the overflow of our own hearts.

Depletion requires soul care: a need to let love in.

The constraints of this pandemic have hit us hard. Like my cousin who can’t fly back to South Africa to grieve with her family, many of us have been stripped of the connection that makes us human. We are left with empty tanks, feeling depleted and misdiagnosing it for fatigue. Yes, we feel tired but, unlike an over-exerted muscle, this won’t recover with passive rest. Depletion requires soul care, an intentional filling of inner resources, a need to let love in.

Receiving love is probably one of the hardest things for me to do. Some people struggle to stop and ask for directions, so there’s no judgement here. I recognize that some of my obstacles to letting love in are my unfounded doubts of being worthy of love, my wrong thinking about needing to earn love, my shame for falling short of my legalistic standards, or my own grief that wants to isolate me. Sometimes it’s as simple as forgetting that the invitation to be loved is always available and that all it takes is a turning of my soul to receive it.

I’ve asked God to remind me how he loves me.

And so, I’ve sat in the sun this week and asked God to remind me how he loves me. I’ve received the energy from the sun’s rays, but with intention to believe it was created to sustain life and nourish my physical body. I’ve recalled interactions with friends and even strangers that have filled me with joy and I’ve expressed gratitude. I’ve imagined his face shining down on me - seeing me, knowing me, loving me as I am in that moment - and found my striving replaced with peace. And more often than not, I’ve had no words to describe what’s happening as my soul tries to anchor itself in faith to true connection and rest.

I wish I could tell you that I feel fully restored, but you know as well as I do that this is not a one and done thing. Instead, like any relationship, it requires vulnerability and trust and many more days in the sun letting love in. What I do know is that it’s worth it, because loving God and loving others is our highest calling and greatest privilege. And, like my aunt who will always be remembered not for what she accomplished but for how she loved, our opportunity is now. Not when the pandemic is over, or when life returns to normal, but now.

My encouragement as we enter the holiday season, many of us carrying the grief and disappointment of how different it looks this year, is to let go of expectations and to let love in. Take time to fill your soul with an unconditional love so great, that pouring it out on your family and community comes from an overflow.