Love letter to my beloved: If I Could...


If I could, I would be at your side and hold you and just love you. I would not expect you to be good company. I would not expect you to make me anything to eat or drink. I would not expect you to provide a place to sleep or bathe.

I would not expect anything of you.

I would just want to be next to you. My love for you would diffuse through my skin, across the air, and into your being. It would find your heart, your soul, your wounds, and it would bathe them in light and peace, gentle as can be, for you are oh so fragile right now.

I would share with you that although I do not live or know your pain, I do know the pain of being an unnoticed child, an unhappy, childless wife, a sufferer of chronic pain and great fear and grieving, and a crier of tears that have no end.

I would help you know that the body doesn't really care why, it just wants to heal. Desperately.

If it could, my pain and sorrow would whisper very quietly to your pain and sorrow that it cares.

If I could, I would take your pain away, your sorrow, for even a moment, that you might know well being, feel whole again. I would make the medicine you take so effective you would feel so much better TODAY.

If I could, I would send an honor guard into your life, and they would honor your anger, and they would bring shovels to dig up the rage and bags to put it in and take it away. And then they would honor you again for being a survivor.

If I could, I would send a spirit of curiosity into your world, a curiosity that suspends judgment, that just looks at what is without labeling it good or bad. And that curiosity would also reveal compassion for the little girl that is you, a most precious and beloved child of God.

And if she could, the little girl that is me would come and take the little girl that is you by the hand, and they would go to their favorite secret hiding place. And they would whisper stories to each other about when they were growing up and what they were taught to believe about life and themselves.

Like how they were supposed to be happy, and not get emotional or be bad, and keep their sad and angry feelings to themselves. And that what they needed and wanted was not really that important and instead they should always help others.

And then the little girl that is me would also tell stories of how she has learned that it is normal to feel both happiness and sadness and especially anger. And that she now knows that she really matters, and that she is good. And important. And how learning that made her cry oh so many tears of relief.

If I could, I would give you a delicious cup of comforting tea, filled with love and courage and hope and patience. This tea would send gentle thoughts and ideas into your dreams... thoughts and ideas that would paint a beautiful image of freedom from fear, from anxiety, from pain and sorrow.

If it could, my own healed spirit would fly into your very heart, soul, and spirit. It would lovingly and gently reveal the depth of healing that is possible, that your soul might know promise.

If I could, I would surround you with all the love and support and resources you need to find your way. You are lost right now, I understand. And in a space so dark it is like a black hole. I would lift the power of darkness just enough for the tiniest glimmer of hope to open. A hope that would ignite just a tiny spark of what ifs…

  • What if I'm not alone?
  • What if I could feel better?
  • What if I were not a lost cause?
  • What if this was for now, not forever?
  • What if there is some one who really understands?
  • What if there is some thing out there that might bring life into my life?

Know this: you are beloved... before, now, and always. Not because of what you've done or what you may or may not do in the future.

You are beloved because you are you.

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