True Love

January 12, 2009
By Libby Mathis, Dixon, WY

I can't stop thinking that I am not worthy of his love, for I bare the stain of this world, yet he
does not. He tells me, with every moment I live and with every breath I take, that he loves me, that
I mean so much to him. I blush with embarrassment, because I know that he sees my heart, and knows
of what I have done. I am unworthy of his love, of his faithfulness. Even though he knows that I
have sinned, in so many ways, he loves me nonetheless, and continues to walk hand in hand with me.
Every day, he teaches me of love and life, not the painted lifeless meanings that we have come to
know, but of the sincerity of love and the meaning of life. It was four years ago that I met him, my
heart had been broken for the first time, by that painted lifeless love. I had given my heart away
at the tender age of sixteen, and was so sure that I knew what love was. But was so wrong. I can
now look back at my once broken heart, and be thankful, because it took a broken heart to meet him,
my forever true love. And I know that he will never break my heart. Looking back now, the only
thing I regret, is that I didn't meet him sooner. But he often hugs me tight and says, "Beloved,
remember this, to every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven." We
spend hours on end together, me pouring my heart out to him, and he so lovingly sitting by quietly
just listening, though he already knows all of my heart without me uttering a word. But even so, he
tells me often, "I love nothing more than to hear your voice. Promise me this, beloved, that no
matter what, you will never stop sharing your heart with me." "I promise." I say with my
whole heart. Sincerity. Something I grew up without, but only one of the many things I have
learned from him. He calls me beloved, and has since the day I met him. "I've always loved you,
beloved, and have hoped for the this day for so long, for the day that you would return my love."
He would whisper into my ear, the soft summer breeze brushing against my cheeks. I lean my head
against him and listen to his heartbeat, it beats to the rhythm of a brokenhearted child, to a
joyful cry of a warrior after a battle, and to the endurance of a faithful prophet. I can feel his
arms around me, holding me tight as he whispers into my ear of so many things that I have never
heard before, the truth of life, he speaks of. It makes my spirit soar and my mind race to grasp
the deeper meanings. He has given me a book, a book he calls, "The Word of God". He tells me
that it holds everything a person needs so that they can live. "Man can not live by bread alone,
Beloved, but by every word that proceeded out of the mouth of God." It is one of the many gifts
he has given me, and I tell him that I will always hold it close to my heart. It was when I first
met him, that I had noticed the scars on his hands. I couldn't stop crying when he told me the
story behind them. They were scars that he bear for love. "No greater love hath no man than this,
that a man lay down his life for his friends," he had said. "I took the nails for you." I
cried on his shoulder, for I couldn't deny one word that he spoke. "Do not cry, beloved." The
soft breeze that blew and dried my tears was warm and smelled of rain. "Forgive me of my sins."
I sobbed. "They are already forgiven, beloved." It was as simple as that. But, from that moment
on, I embarked on a strait and narrow journey that would require all of my heart. I went through
trials that took every bit of strength I had, but what made it all bearable, was that he never let
go of my hand. The worst of the trials was when my family and friends rejected him. To see the
sadness in his eyes, to watch the tears roll down his face, it was all so painful. I cried with
him, both of us grieving as if we had lost a loved one, and in away, we had. But sometimes, when
something is lost, it doesn't mean that it will never be found. There are such things as miracles,
and they happen every day of our lives. He told me that.

Happily Ever After

The author's comments:
I dedicate all my work to Jesus Christ, my true love.

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This article has 1 comment.

on Apr. 8 2011 at 10:56 pm BRONZE, San Diego, California
1 article 0 photos 3 comments
beautiful :)

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