Overwhelmed by Love
Twenty-six. I am 26 years old. I can’t quite believe it. That number feels, well, old. It feels like an age I used to gawk at as a kid—an age that I assumed meant marriage, children, and a house of one's own. I saw 26 as one step closer to 30, the time when you’re expected to really grow up and get your ish together. It didn’t sound fun at all but scary. Now that I'm 26, I don’t actually have any of those things, and yet my heart is overflowing with joy.
Six months ago, I was worried about this looming birthday. I talked about it like it was NBD, but in reality I was freaking out. I kept asking people about how old they were when they got married, how old they were when they started their own company, how old they were when they could afford a one-bedroom apartment. I fixated on the number and what it meant—and today I can tell you, it doesn’t mean anything.
I am more joyful today than I thought would be possible. My heart is full. I believe my twenty-sixth year will be the best one yet. Of course, there will be ups and downs like every other year. That’s to be expected. But I think this year I will grow up more and grow into the woman I was made to be. It won’t be a great year because I’ve knocked off items on my bucket list, or because I’ve reached some lofty life goals.
It will be because God is always faithful.
As I turned 26, I felt celebrated, cared for, and loved well by my family and friends. I’ve been given an incredible community, both here in New York City and throughout the country. These people surrounded me with encouragement and kindness. They’ve shown up and showed me what love really looks like. They’ve reminded me I am far from alone.
There have definitely been times in my life when I’ve felt alone. I felt like abandoned, an outcast—and in a way, I felt almost unworthy of love. Years ago, I went through a very difficult seasons where my closest friendships deteriorated, and the isolation I was left with was unsettling. I believed the lie that there was something wrong with me. I was a wreck.
Stepping out of that season took courage, strength, and the kind of power that can only come from God. He’s the one who brought me through. Moving forward, I started to love myself and love the woman God intended for me to be. I started to meet people who lifted me up and who wanted to know me. Those moments of feeling alone enable me to see just how much of a gift my family and friendships are now. The joy I feel in this moment wouldn't be as sweet had I not experienced the bitter taste of loneliness first.
Today at 26, I feel known. I’ve written before about this desire I have to make my name known. I want to be well-regarded, accomplished, successful. I want people to hear my name and go, “Wow, she is awesome. I want to be like her.” I will admit it: I want that fame.
Except I wasn’t created to make myself famous, but humble and meek. Jesus Christ humbled himself and gave up His life to save ours. Thus, God “gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”
I was made to talk up His name, not my own. But you know what else?
My name is already known. I am known.
In my previous post, I forgot about mentioning the reality that God knows my name. In fact, my name is graven on His hands; my name is written on His heart. No situation or circumstance can ever change that. This is the greatest friendship could ask for. He knows exactly who and what I need and when I need it. Most of all, I need Him.
“Nevertheless, do not rejoice in this, that the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”
How marvelous and awe-inspiring are those words in Luke? I get goosebumps whenever I read the passage. The God who created the stars, the earth, and the entire universe, is the same God who created me and who knows my name. And He’s the one who’s provided beautiful earthly relationships around me to show me more of Him. I tend to rely on my accomplishments or my social life to feel like I am known. I think as though I need to justify my existence. I need to do something in order to be seen and paid attention to. I act like the number of likes I get on Instagram is what makes me known and worthy. It’s not.
Ultimately, I am known because of God. Because of God. This birthday has been a tangible reminder of that. The people who are currently in my life are not there by coincidence. His goodness and care for me are continually overflowing, even when I don’t recognize it. I need Him. The more I press into Him, the more He reveals Himself. This week, He has been especially evident in the many friends and family who celebrated my special day with me. I am truly overwhelmed by such grace and love.
So to all of you who sent me the many thoughtful cards and texts and phone calls. To you who danced the night away with me. To you who painted your nails with me and sat on the floor eating sushi with me. To you who took me out for wine. To you who gave me nail polish, cupcakes, coffee, and my new favorite t-shirt. To you who sent me the most beautiful bouquet of flowers. To you who baked me a cake and lit a candle and sang me happy birthday. To all of you who I love: Thank you. Thank you for celebrating my life in such unique and wonderful ways. Thank you for being an important part of my story, and above all, thank you for reminding me that God is so very good.
Because The World Needs More Love Letters
If you've been following my blog or Instagram, you know that a few weeks ago I participated in Hannah Brencher's first-ever writing intensive. This girl has been such an encouragement to me, and taking part in her writing course really inspired me to write, to be vulnerable, and to break the fear.
So when Hannah asked if I would join this year's 12 Days of Love Letter Writing, I jumped at the chance. The campaign is an extension of More Love Letters, an initiative that began with Hannah leaving love letters all over New York City for strangers to find. A few years, a TED talk, a memoir, and 63 countries later, MLL is still going strong. (You really should read the whole story. It's pretty awesome.) Anyone can submit letters to those who have requested them, and you can also nominate someone you know to receive letters of their own.
In the spirit of the holiday season, the 12 Days of Love Letter Writing is 12 solid days packed to the brim with letter requests specific to the holiday season, social media buzz, a Twitter bash, hot chocolate, and nonstop scripting of love letters for more than 12 recipients and several nonprofit groups. Each day from December 7 to 18, a new letter request will be posted on this page.
Today, on the fifth day of letter writing, is a request for Kevin.
Kevin is just an all-around wonderful human. He is always going out of his way to make other people feel loved and included. It doesn’t take long for any random stranger to add Kevin to their "top favorite people" list.
Recently Kevin’s girlfriend passed away suddenly due to a brain aneurysm; she was only 32. It happened so fast that all their friends are struggling with ways to grieve and ways to heal, and of course Kevin is still going out of his way to make sure that everyone else is doing okay with the loss of their friend. Join us in showering Kevin with all the love that he consistently shows to everyone around him!
So I'm sharing my letter for Kevin here, and I'm sending a special copy via snail mail. Maybe you can relate. If so, I hope this letter brings you some much-needed cheer, too.
Dear Kevin,
You are an incredible friend to so many people, and your genuine care for others does not go unnoticed. Although you and I have never met, I have a feeling we would be fast friends.
I know you're going through a very difficult time right now. I can only imagine what you're feeling, and I don't understand why this happened. But even in all the confusion and the pain, I want to tell you that it will get better. I’ve been through darkness, too, and I want you to know that there is light on the other side.
Kevin, you are so much stronger than you realize. You will make it through this.
I'm here to encourage you to continue being your wonderful self. Your big heart is a blessing to all who know you. You truly have a gift, and the world needs more people like you. You inspire everyone around you with your compassion and kind spirit. You lift them up, help them feel better, and let them know they are not alone. You are not alone either, dear friend. We are all rallying around you—thinking of you and praying you feel deeply loved every single day.
So keep going. Keep holding your head high. Keep opening your heart. And keep being your wonderful self. We are so grateful for you, Kevin.
Sending you all my love,
Maggie
Now it's your turn. Will you join me in sending Kevin a little love this holiday season? I know if we each share a bit of our light, this world can become a brighter place. Your letter to Kevin doesn't have to be anything over-the-top or poetic. Just simple, straight-from-the-heart, can't-forget-it love.
PLEASE SEND ALL LOVE LETTERS TO:
Kevin’s bundle
c/o Kayla L.
139 Ordale Boulevard
Pittsburgh PA 15228
The Anchor of My Soul
I'm saying goodbye to two of my favorite people this week. They've been my friends for the entirety of my time in NYC, and now it's time for them to begin life in a new city. I am excited for them—but it's taken me some time to get to that place.
Over the course of this past year, I've said goodbye to more and more friends. New York City is a transient place, and farewell parties have become par for the course. I've heard that they're especially common during one’s three-to-five-year mark in the Big Apple. I have just hit three years in the city, and the number of goodbyes seems to come in waves.
My closest friends here are really my family, which makes saying goodbye to them that much more difficult. I don't like to say goodbye (does anyone?), and for a while, I felt deeply saddened by some of my friends’ decisions to leave. Beyond feeling sad, though, I felt a nagging sense that I was somehow being left behind.
What is so wrong with living in New York City? Why does everyone want to leave? Should I stay here? Am I going to be the old spinster who stayed in the city while everyone else moved away?
I know: totally over-dramatic. But those thoughts definitely came up. People are leaving because they have exciting new job opportunities, or they recently got married, or they have babies. They’re moving because they’re ready for a change and a new chapter. And these are all good reasons to move. Yet their moves have made me turn a mirror to myself and wonder if I was in fact the foolish one for staying. I felt as though I'm missing out on something. They’re moving on while I'm here in the city, still doing my thing, figuring it all out, and taking life one day at a time.
Relationships are shifting, and change is in the air. It’s been unsettling. For three years, I've relied on my friends and community here in the city as the foundation I stand upon. I can see how much stock I placed in these relationships because the ground under my feet now feels shaky.
As I’ve been processing through all the change, though, I keep being reminded that my true foundation comes from something that cannot be taken away.
“We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain.”
Jesus is the same then, and now, and forever. He is the true rock I can stand on. If I look back on my life, I see that in all of my own moves and job switches and relationship changes, He has been there as my anchor.
Look at the dictionary definition: an anchor is a heavy device that is attached to a boat or ship by a rope or chain and that is thrown into the water to hold the boat or ship in place. It’s also a person or thing that provides strength and support.
I have rocked and swayed. I have come against high winds and waves. The course seems uncertain. Still the anchor is sure. God’s will is steadfast. It’s no mistake that He has me right here, right now, even when it seems like everyone is moving on without me. He’s not going to let me drift away into something that isn’t His best for me. God has me on a different path. Right now, that means living in New York City and continuing to listen to the call He has for me. He has not forgotten about me or left me behind. I’m always looking for the next best thing, to grow, progress, and turn the page to a new chapter. Perhaps the new chapter is right here, and I’m growing by simply staying put.
I am adopting a lens of understanding. Leaving the city doesn’t make someone weak or mean they’re running away. That’s what I used to think about people who left, and it's simply not true. We each have different paths. In the same vein, staying here doesn’t mean I’m missing out on a better life. Wherever we are being called and however our surroundings may change, the anchor stays the same. So now I can celebrate and share in excitement with people who are moving. He’s cultivating in me a grateful heart. How amazing that God has provided such wonderful relationships here in the city; He’s given me people to miss.
Thinking of my life in this way has been a game-changer. I’m still sad that my friends have moved or are moving away. When the next person tells me they are leaving the city, I will still be upset. But I know ultimately my course is on track. My foundation is intact—I have the surest anchor of all, and I am okay. The Lord has me right where he wants me.
Sometimes the Sidewalk Speaks Truth
If you live in New York, you’ve probably seen this artwork scattered on sidewalks throughout the city. I’ve been staring at it under my feet for months now. I actually first spotted it shortly after getting out of a relationship, and it felt like some sort of sign made just for me. Mags, you should have protected your heart better.
To this day, whenever I walk past it, it makes me think. It might seem like silly graffiti, but for me, it’s one bit of sidewalk art that really resonates. It speaks the truth.
We’ve probably all been told at one time or another to protect our hearts. We women especially are often advised to be careful, to watch what we say, to make sure we don’t reveal too much. In relationships, let the man do the work. Oh, and never let your heart run too far past your head.
Usually the advice comes from a well-meaning place. It’s rooted in Scripture, after all.
“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows through it.”
Throughout my life, I’ve had a tendency to be very open with my heart. I let people in. I share my deepest desires and beliefs, as well as my sins. I care deeply for the people I am close to. I like fostering emotional intimacy with people, and I’ve definitely let my heart rule over my head. Don’t reveal too much? We’re already way past that.
Sometimes this unguardedness has resulted in great pain—when the other person’s heart is not equally as open, or when the level of emotional intimacy isn’t mutual. I’ve experienced this hurt not only with significant others, but with friendships and family, too.
So around the time I started seeing this artwork, I made the conscious decision to be more cautious with my heart. I’ve told myself that I can’t let people in until I can really trust them. Until I know their intention and investment level. I have to protect myself from getting hurt again. If the Bible tells me to do so, then surely this is the right move.
But what happens when you begin to so fiercely guard your heart that you close other people off? What happens when you prevent other people from loving you, from praying for you, and from investing in you because you’re more concerned with keeping your heart free from any bruises or blemishes?
I really don’t think that’s what God had in mind when he commanded us to guard our hearts. Yet it’s what I’ve been doing lately. I’ve encountered pessimism, an attitude I am not used to experiencing. I’m pessimistic that people won’t reciprocate and open their hearts to me when I do so with them. These feelings have fostered a sense of fear about letting new people close. If I open up to someone again, they can choose to walk away. New York City is such a transient place—if I get close to someone, there’s a very good chance that person may pick up, move, and leave me behind in the near future. I have lost count of the friends I’ve said goodbye to in this city, and I’ve only been here for three years. This year, I’m in a new neighborhood with a new community and a new church congregation. I can be open to new relationships, or I can keep a fence around my heart.
C.S. Lewis writes,
“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”
It is better to have lost love than to never love at all. Any relationship, any love requires vulnerability and opening your heart. Ultimately, I think the best way we can interpret “protect yo heart” is by giving our hearts fully over to Christ. If I give my whole heart to Him first, rather than any human being or object, He will protect it. He is making in us new hearts, full of His spirit, His love, and His wisdom. He will remove our hearts of stone and give us hearts of flesh, that we may walk in his way and obey Him.
Transition and change are facts of life. People come in and out of our lives for particular seasons, and I really believe we can learn something through every relationship we have, regardless of how long it lasts. This doesn’t mean we will never be faced with pain or disappointment. It does mean that God is working in our hearts through it.
I’m in the middle of a book by Jennie Allen (don’t worry, future blog post on that one to come), and she talks a lot about living a life of reckless faith. She says that if we believe that heaven is real—and we live our lives like it is—everything changes. When we know this life is only for a short while and eternity with Jesus is on the other side, amassing a few scars here on earth seems significantly less painful. We know He will redeem our brokenness in exchange for beautiful and unblemished hearts.
I’m praying against bitterness and pessimism. I’m praying for vulnerability and openness. Now whenever my shoes cross over that bit of sidewalk art, I see it as reminder to pray. I pray that I guard my heart in the way Jesus intended—by giving it completely and undivided to Him.