I can’t make you love me.

Dear Mom, Dad,  Significant Other,  Children, and/or Dear Friend,

This is for you, because you’re a big part of my life,
and because I realized something:

I can’t make you love me.
Not that you don’t love me. I just can’t make you.

Believe me, I’ve tried.

I can make the bed, make us dinner, make you laugh.
But I can’t make you love me.

I’ve done nice things for you. I’ve looked out for you. I’ve even forgiven you when you let me down.
But I can’t make you love me.

I’ve manipulated you, bribed you, flat out lied to you.
But I can’t make you love me.

I’ve pretended not to notice. I’ve played hard to get. I’ve given you space.
But I can’t make you love me.

I’ve cried myself to sleep. Pleaded out of desperation. Lost myself in the attempt.
But I can’t make you love me.

I’ve lost my cool. Bit your head off. Yelled and screamed.
But I can’t make you love me.

I’ve learned the hard way that love doesn’t work like that.
The truth is, I really can’t make you love me.

Even Jesus, climbing on a cross, knew the truth.
You can’t choose who loves you,
Only who you love.

So here’s a choice I’ve made, no strings attached,
and it warms my heart to say it:

I Love You.

——————————–

Have a great week!

Mitch

Absent Minded

One Sunday, several months ago,

I missed my exit.

I was so lost in thought, running through that morning’s sermon in my head, that I drove right past my exit on I-70.

I was already running late, and the next exit where I could turn around?

About 15 miles up the road.

That made me half an hour late. I just barely made the service. Yikes!

Stuff like this happens to me all the time.

Now I don’t think, at the age of 42, I’m being plagued by “senior moments” yet.  Honestly, I’ve been doing spacey things like this since I was a little kid.

I think the term for my condition is: Absent Minded.

Yep, that’s me.

I’ll “zone out” in a middle of a conversation because something somebody said sends me down a mental rabbit hole.

I’ll walk into a room and have no idea why I’ve gone there.

I’ll spend more time pondering how to do something than actually doing it.

It’s true: Sometimes my mind has a mind of its own.

I think it began when I was a child. I never felt perfectly comfortable in my environment, so I developed a rich interior world.  My imagination became a comforting place for me, a creative alternative to the boredom or uncertainty of the physical world.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve been more aware of the strange dual-residence  in which I live. Sometimes I live here, in the world of jobs and schedules and people and problems, and other times I go wandering inside my own brain, into the world of ideas and dreaming and endless possibilities.

I wish the two parts of my life could better live in harmony.

Psalm 139 has this important reminder:

1 O Lord, you have searched me and known me.
2 You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from far away.
3 You search out my path and my lying down,
and are acquainted with all my ways.

God is a part of both sides of my life.  In fact, God made me to be integrated, so that my inner thoughts and my external path are created to work together.

When I am absent minded, it means I have not integrated my life the way God wants me to.

So, is it possible?

Is it possible to live focussed both inward and outward?

I think so. I’m gonna work on that.

But my recent Sunday morning side trip reminds me…

trying to be present and  absent?

That’s unimaginable.

Have a great week,

Mitch