To cherish without coveting, to hold on–but loosely, to let be without letting go: to love with open hands.

“I don’t know how to love a man a little, I don’t know how to make my feelings small.”

It’s so much easier to cling–or to leave.

But love does neither.

The process of letting someone in is very painful, in my opinion. The longer it goes on the riskier it becomes. The fear of being left/getting hurt continues to increase and fighting it becomes more difficult. You realize you have something to lose and that there is no certainty. Security is not found in other people, relationships cannot provide a haven–because leaving is always an option. 

Until marriage, theoretically.

Maybe that sounds jaded, maybe it is. But at least in dating there is certainly an element of risk. If you approach it correctly, the purpose is to decide whether or not you can/want to marry the other person. It’s a process–you don’t go into it with that part figured out. And so you are expected to invest time and energy, to reveal yourself, to allow an attachment form to someone who may or may not choose to stay–and you have no grounds to demand that they do.

Risky.

Of course, everyone survives break-ups. The optimist insists “either way it’ll be good.”

I guess it depends on how you define good, but break-ups have been pretty agonizing in my experience–not something I’m eager to re-live. Not something I would define as ‘good.’

And then it takes so long. So much time to heal, to move on, to forget about the stupid things like their favorite song or the things they used to laugh at or the old haunts you used to visit together. And then you have to start all over again. And the risk is still there, and the past hurts still exist and there’s just no way around it.

Of course, we put ourselves through this in the hopes that at some point it will work out. I think even the most cynical of us–though we are reluctant to admit it–are longing, hoping that somehow this time will be different.

And for some people–the lucky ones–the risk isn’t so overwhelming. It’s not so bad, to go through this whole process which I find so arduous. They somehow can let the closeness develop without considering too much the sticky ending that could await them. Maybe they don’t get so close, I’m not sure. I’m not sure why it seems to hurt some more than others. I guess you could argue that those who are more hurt are more hurt because they loved more. But I think the opposite might be true. 

Those who hurt less hurt less because they loved freely. That is, without conditions, without expectations, without demands for security or certainty or staying. 

“Love demands permanency and exclusivity.”

Which is true, but loving someone doesn’t always mean staying in the relationship–not if it isn’t what is best. Staying is not always equal to love.

Staying is just generally nicer, less painful, more comforting.

Sometimes it’s right, sometimes it’s not and there’s no way to know unless you try.

I hate how easy that is to say. How the words can come swiftly and freely onto the screen while living them out is often such a fear-ridden, difficult procedure for me.

It’s hard.

“Guard your heart…”

That’s the other part of it. Trying to date while not giving yourself away entirely–because that is what is called for in marriage particularly.

How do you get to know someone and let them know you, while still withholding. When do you share and when do you remain reticent. Until what point do you open yourself up to the other person.

Putting up walls is easy. That is my default, it comes very naturally to me. Breaking them down–on the other hand–I find almost unbearable. And something else I don’t know how to do halfway. How to break down a barrier slightly. They either come tumbling down or stay rigid in their entirety.

I have diligently, painstakingly built a fortress and am being asked to open the door–not knowing what awaits on the other side. 

It’s a risky game to play, and a lot to ask of someone who has often ended up far worse for it.

In moments when I am tempted to give up, to resign myself to fear and leave it at that, I have to remind myself that the risk is great because the reward is, too–much greater, in fact.

And simply having the opportunity, the chance to explore if this could be, is a gift.

I just find that very hard to believe at times–times when self-preservation gets the best of me.

But these things are not about self-preservation, they are about self-gift.

Although it is far easier for me to wallow in the injustice of having to take the risk in the first place, the more difficult and far more fruitful path is that of acceptance and trust. To hope that one day this great effort will, in fact, pay off. 

Of course, acceptance and trust are hard to come by.

My concern is always whether or not I am capable of following through in what appears to me such a herculean task. The task of loving with open hands, hands I would rather clench tightly or throw up in the air in frustration.

Alone I know I cannot. Whether or not I am given the grace I need to do so is another matter entirely, and one that is outside of my control.

It is one thing for me to to say these things and quite another to embrace them. I wrestle with my fears and desires that surround relationships daily. My prayer is that even my smallest, most faint-hearted effort will be enough to work with–because that is often the extent of what I have to offer.

“If you are Love, if you are good, teach me to behave as I should–hang me to bleed on the dry wood.”

Open hands.