What ails you, my child?
Child. Daughter. Loved one. That’s what I hear from my Abba.
And the other night. I heard him gently whisper this question and I leaned into him. And tears came.
I asked if I had to say it. Yes. To know you are still loved. To believe you are still loved. Tell me so you can know the relief to share your worries and still be loved.
My child. You are still being pruned. And you are allowing me to do it. You are leaning into my love and trusting me. You are loved by me, always.
I know and I believe that part. It’s the part that other humans won’t. That they’ll learn how mean, critical, judgmental, rude, arrogant, prideful, hurtful, I actually am. That they’ll see that part and turn their back on me. That they won’t love me through the process. What if they leave me while I’m still learning to love well?
Child. I won’t let you be alone. I love you.
Is it okay for me to still be worried I won’t be loved by people while I learn and am being pruned?
Keep allowing me to prune and to convict. And keep trusting others. I love you and I got you. You’re made to do life with others. Don’t hold back too much from them. They’ll show up for you.
Can I stay here a little longer? Just you and me?
Of course.
Thank you, Abba.
I love you, my child.
