A letter to Bernadette

An open letter to a dear friend. Except, I guess it's not that open, since, out of respect for her privacy, I'm code-naming her "Bernadette." Well, then...here's a semi-open letter to a real, but code-named amazing person. Just go with it, please.

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Dear Bernadette,

I love you so much it hurts inside. In a good way. :) You have changed me for the better in so many ways I can't even begin to count. Thank you for that. I read what you wrote and it resonated with me, because...me too. I get it. I was going to respond to you privately, but then was struck with the strong thought that you and I can't possibly be the only people who struggle with stuff like this. So here we are. You get a public, but anonymous, response. I won't make it a habit.

You said you are working on being a person of love. Someone who "loves indiscriminately and serves tirelessly." I hate to break it to you, but I'm with the friend you mentioned, on this one: you ARE. I think you doubt it because you know all the internal processes, doubts, fear, and thoughts that precede your actions, but...there's no denying it. "By their fruits ye shall know them." LOOK at your fruits, Bernadette. They are FULL of love and life and goodness. It's the stuff you are made of.

I keep thinking about what you wrote, and I wonder why it is sometimes so hard to see past our weaknesses and insecurities, to see how really good we are and how proud of us the Lord really is. I think if we could see ourselves the way He sees us, it would take our breath away. I know you believe that too, but the thing is that it's true about YOU. Not just mankind in the general sense.

I have been running now for 18 years. And seriously--it barely occurred to me last year after running my first full marathon, that I might qualify as being "a runner." I have never thought of myself as "a runner." I'm just someone who likes to jog. I have a childhood friend who ran cross country for BYU the year they won the national title. Her entire little petite runner's body is made of toned muscle. She regularly gets labs drawn to make sure her iron and blood cell breakdowns are optimal for running. She just completed the Boston Marathon in 3:01. That's a sub-7 pace. Now THAT'S a runner, right? Me...I just jog. But...last year for the first time it finally occurred to me that...what does it mean to be a runner? It's someone who runs, right? And I do. I don't run at a sub-7 pace and I don't get my blood levels checked. I will almost certainly never qualify for the Boston Marathon. But...I run. I get out there and put my feet in front of each other. I work up a sweat. I'm doing it. And I've been doing it consistently for 18 years. That's a runner. I'm a runner.

YOU are a lover. You look around you at the Boston Marathoners and think you're not like them, but what you don't see is that there's all different kinds of running. Fast, slow, professional, casual. It's all running. There's all different kinds of loving, too. Energetic, quiet, intiative-taking, I'm-your-backup-here, talking, listening, volunteering, simply saying yes. It's all love. You are especially good at the kind that requires true heart. You know how you don't like to hear sad news stories because they upset you so much? It's because your heart is so full of love that you empathize to the core, even with strangers from the news. You feel what they feel. That's a rare gift. Remember how you struck up a friendship with that neighbor of yours--the one where I could never figure out how you were such good friends? It's because you loved her even when she wasn't the most obvious choice to love. And you recognized the love and service she gave quietly; you recognized it because you ARE it. Remember how you fasted for the ability to love better? Ironically, that's a fast that gets its start from tenderness and love. Remember how you cried with me when I told you I miscarried? Or how you wrote me that email full of support and non-judgement when I told you Dave and I were struggling? How you said yes to the church calling you really didn't want, and then spent the whole time praying for ways to love the girls? How you are sure your kids are the most beautiful children to ever grace the planet? That's love. All of it. Yours is a quiet love. It's a one-on-one love. A there-when-it-counts love. An I'm-willing love. You question it because you are sometimes fearful about getting out there and doing it, or because sometimes it doesn't occur to you to volunteer. You misread your introvertedness as unwillingness or hesitation to act. But they're not the same thing. And in the end, your courage always wins out. It is greater than your fear or preference for solitude. And honestly, the fact that you have to conscientiously choose to overcome that preference when you act out in love, makes both the love and the act even stronger and more significant. What you perceive as a weakness actually becomes a great strength. You have changed many lives, mine especially.

I don't know why it can be so hard to see ourselves the way we really are--the way God sees us. It is for me too. (I was a mother for four years before I went to bed and, for the first time ever, thought to myself, "I did a good job as a mother today." Seriously. And guess what? I was doing a great job as a mother that whole time. Full of mistakes and learning, but also full of goodness and the best I knew how to do.) But I think it's exactly what God would want us to do.

I love you. I admire you. I am grateful for you. I think you are as full of love as anyone I have ever known. You can question it all you want, but it won't change the truth--you're a runner. (See what I did there, bringing the metaphor back around?? Nice, huh?)

I am going to smother hug you next time I see you,

Lindsey

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What are some of your greatest gifts?

Truly, I would LOVE to read them--please, please comment and tell me some!