There You Are

Many, many years ago way before I met my husband (I swear), there was this gorgeous hunk of young man that I was interested in. Having a secret fear of rejection despite my outward displays of confidence, I wanted him to know that I liked him, but I didn't want to tell him that I liked him. I came up with the idea of sending him mysterious messages to pique his curiosity, all the while remaining anonymous. I'm convinced that this is how the whole "secret admirer" fiasco, I mean notion, came to be.

I sent messages through a trusted friend telling this gentleman how handsome and wonderful I thought he was. He was intrigued and so he sent messages back to me inquiring who I was and from where he knew me. I was so excited at my new found ability to be mysterious and alluring! Then the inevitable happened: his girlfriend found the messages. Needless to say she was not at all as intrigued as her boyfriend. She demanded that I leave her man alone, still using my friend (who was eating it all up, by the way) as a messenger because they had yet to figure out who I was. The word "bitch" was mentioned several times. Even back then I prided myself in being mature and above pettiness and everyone who knew me, knew that about me. So in what I thought would be my final message to Mr. Gorgeous, I wrote, "Please tell your girlfriend to keep her negative comments to herself. I will not fight over a man." I was done. Or so I thought.

Very soon afterwards, Mr. Gorgeous wrote to me, "I know who you are." OMG! I'm not sure how many cases there were of 18-year-olds having heart attacks, but I just knew I would be among the first. Talk about being stunned. How could he possibly know? I was convinced that my "trusted" friend had sold me out. Not according to Mr. G. When asked (grilled, interrogated, held at gun point, whatever) how he knew who I was, he said it was my reaction to his girlfriend that helped him figure it out. "Think about what you wrote," he said. "I may not know you very well, but I do know that that's who you are."

My point is that you can't run from yourself no matter how hard you try. Confucius said it all in his quote, "And remember, no matter where you go, there you are." You can't run and you can't hide from who you truly are inside. So since you can't escape you, why not accept you for who you are, just as you are? Why not love the cellulite? Why not embrace the thinning hair, the wrinkles, the beer belly? You are enough. You are enough. You are enough.

I'll keep saying it until you get it. When people speak about unconditional love, they're usually referring to the love of a mother for her child. The love of a child for his parents. The love of God. Unconditional love means that I love you even though you're not perfect. I love you with your sixth grade education. I love you with your jiggly thighs. I love you with your $22.16 bank balance. None of these things can penetrate unconditional love.

You love your children, your parents, your family, your friends, your God unconditionally. Now do the same for yourself. You might as well...it's not like you can hide.

Until next week...

Feed on love; subsist on peace.

P.S. I love my husband.