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The Date


This time was different. On every other date I’d ever had, I always felt like I was in control of the person’s perception of me physically. Hair nicely groomed. Face beat to perfection (makeup). No eating all day so my stomach wouldn’t bloat. Toes done. Nails done. Special perfume (I’m partial to Chanel or a nice, earthy essential oil). I put myself together so I could be received well. That’s what you do when you go out on a date, right?

There was no preparing for this one.
In fact, there was absolutely nothing I could do to “get myself together” enough for him. He didn’t care about all that. Scratch that. He cared about it to the extent that it impacted my ability to be truly present in our conversations. I suppose if not being “presentable” was going to have me all hung up then he would choose to endure all my masks…for a little while.
Strangely though, his willingness to love the real me intrigued me so and over time, my tendency toward pretense fell away.
Love already, you ask? Wasn’t this just a date? Are they ever “just” dates?
This. Was. Love.
He claimed that he had loved me since the first time he knew of me. Even before. Crazy, right? Maybe. But it also warmed the coldest parts of me. I usually had to fight for love. I thought I had to prove myself worthy of it.
He changed this.
It amazed me that there was someone who made me feel as though I’d always been loved. Always been worthy. Well, shoot, I had to consider the possibilities. I could do anything with a love like that blooming all big and magnificent in my soul. Anything.
But I must tell the whole truth. For a while there—even knowing all of this—I chose to forgo the wonder of this new current in my life; in favor of treading emotional water. I didn’t out and out turn Him down when he asked me out. I just kept finding “better” things to do. 
As you might have guessed, I didn’t get anywhere. 
He just wanted to talk to me. To spend some quality time with me. To show me how long and wide and deep His love for me was. And in spite of my resistance, He still found ways to show me why He was different from the rest.
With every sunrise.
With every sunset.
He desired to share with me His mysteries and to crack wide open the parts of my heart that were closed. He wanted to show me how those possibilities could become reality through His love. 
For a while there, I’d lost sight of all that. All I could see was the accountability. What His kind of love would require of me. What I’d have to confess to be in His presence.
And yet He persisted. His pursuit was like that of One who knew without any doubt who I was and where I belonged.
“Let’s talk, Tracey. No pressure. I only want a relationship with you. 
Let me love on you a while each day.”
And I did.
I am.
No toe nail polish necessary.
No worries needed.
Sometimes not even words…if we choose.
Just Him and me. Me and the Lover of my soul.
He makes me feel like singing that classic Luther Vandross song:
“If this world was mine. I’d place at your feet. All that I own. You’ve been so good to me.”
And of course, the world is His. And I am His. And every day I try to give all that I have, all of me, back to Him. Because, like I’ve longed for forever, He’s good to me.
I lay my love and my worship at the feet of the One who sends the sunrise to me to announce the beginning of our day together.
He’s never late. 
TMLG
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