Written on December 14, 2023.
This morning, I was making myself lunch and I saw our box of instant coffee mix. It caught my eye because of some writing on it. It was in Korean so I strained my brain to read each character; it read, “Expiration date passed! Do not eat!” It was clear that my dad had written it for my mom to read because she was the only one who liked the taste of it. I really shouldn’t have thought much of it, but a question came to me: is this love? Is even this small note a sign of affection? Even if it’s replacing so many other gestures of love that would make for a more wholehearted kind of love?
I just turned 20. I cried on my birthday for the third year in a row. When I turned 18, I cried because my dad hurt me. When I turned 19, I cried because my mind wouldn’t let me escape the deep pits of fear and anxiety to fully enjoy the happiness of my special day. This year, I turned 20, and I cried because I had experienced a love expressed “wholly, sincerely, with all my heart.” All day, my parents couldn’t let go of their pride or whatever it was that was holding them back to say two words, to wish me a good day, to say they were glad I was their daughter. Then, I went to dinner with a group of friends who were excited to show up for me and who made sure I knew today was my day. They asked me where I wanted to go after dinner, and presented me with two options they had researched. Admittedly, I was pretty tired from the morning, but I just started sobbing. Never had someone asked me what I wanted to do on my birthday and genuinely meant it. Never had people who I loved expressed their love to me so wholeheartedly. Never had I felt so seen and loved.
It took me so long to unlearn the confusing kind of love, mixed in hatred, blended so well it was hard to distinguish what was care and what was violence. To be hurt and then to be told it was because “I love you” completely fragmented my understanding of what love meant. Someone would show me the slightest sign of affection, and I believed it was all I deserved. I got excited over the broken kind of love because that was all I had known, and people loved to take advantage of that. I read into every word and action because I wanted to reap the most from what little I had received. I worked so hard to earn love from places that did not deserve my heart. And even now, I look at the writing on an instant coffee box and wonder if that means love because hope meant survival.
HESITANT TO HUG. SLOW TO WHISPER I LOVE YOU. WARY OF GIFTS. FEARFUL OF PROMISES. DREAD IN CONVERSATIONS.
Oh, praise my God who had shown me a whole and sincere kind of love,
Incomparable to the brokenness of my past,
Which He has reconciled and overcome.
Oh, praise my God who has given me people,
Who help me know His love for me,
A love without bounds nor strings.
Oh, praise my God who has given me a greater hope,
One not for mere survival,
But which fills me with a love that says WHOLLY, SINCERELY, WITH ALL MY HEART.
As Written by Lois 