Remember

Remember.

Remember that we all have different eyes, different minds, different hearts, at least at first, and so the things that seem obvious to you, the things that you see first, the things that jump from the world outside of you or the page in front of you, the things that walk in through the open windows and doors of your eyes and mind and settle in your heart, those things may not be the same for anyone else you meet. You are unique. Your way of interacting with the world is unique. And while it is unlikely that you will see or think something that is completely different from what every other human has thought, it is equally certain that your perspective will bring something new to those around you. Do not be afraid to share what you see.

Remember.

Remember that you are living your journey while others are living theirs. Even when you travel alongside each other, every other person on the road is as concerned with their own journey as you are with yours. The secret loves and fears that you carry, the tiny obsessions that you let dig at you, little foxes running in the vineyard, others have their own, tails flicking past branches that they too wish would grow. It is not easy to be a human, no matter where you are, and our own difficulty blinds us to the difficulty of others. We hold in common not only our problems but also the shame with which we hide them until we can bear our self-imposed loneliness no longer. But because you know that your heart is full-to-bursting, look for the fullness in the hearts of others. Look to their loneliness just as you wish someone would look to yours.

Remember.

Remember that you can split your heart, that it will be in multiple places at once if you've been loving properly and that you have, indeed, loved properly, no matter how much you're afraid that you haven't. That is the way to combat the loneliness, by the way, to repeat the ever-growing litany of people that you've loved or who have loved you or both, and to remember that love comes in a wide variety of forms. It is beautiful, in a way, that English only has one word for this kind of affection, that we elide fraternal and passionate and self-giving love into one word, requiring you to uncomfortably grapple with the depth of your admiration for any given individual while affirming the self-sacrificial nature of the very act of caring about anyone at all. The people that you pray for, the people you have affection for, the people you invest in, all those people hold an ever-increasing bit of your heart and this is not a bad thing. I know you feel the emptiness beside you at night deep down in your gut, but remember, remember, love, that it is not a true reflection of the love you have waiting for you out in the wide world.

Remember the myriad of places you have been. Celebrate the absurd amount of travel you have done, the sheer number of beds (and couches and futons and planes and trains and patches of ground) that you have slept on over the course of your life. You've been incredibly welcomed and accepted everywhere you've gone and that has been a wonderful privilege. You have filled the years of your life with such activity merely by saying yes to the embarrassment of opportunities that walked you way. You've suited yourself to the travel, to be sure, and worn out the bottoms of suitcases and shoes, but it would not do to forget this concrete representation of the blessing laid upon your life. There is something to be said for letting your feet acquaint themselves with a diversity of soil.

Remember the arms that have held you. I know you like to dwell on those moments that felt like they could have lasted past the crumbling of the Earth, because we all like to dwell on those moments when we become the sole focus of another's caring embrace, but those were not the only arms to ever hold you. You've now spent enough time with a tiny one to know that you must have tired out your parents' and grandparents' and aunts' arms when you were small yourself. You've passed the peace enough times to lose count of the number of strangers whose arms encircled you. You've been a part of enough groups to know that a hug is an act that anchors you, makes you be here, makes you share space you'd rather have kept for yourself. Man, I bet Jesus gave great hugs, arms stretched wide enough to bring in every human in time and space but wrapped around each individual with the kind of intense, knowing love that only an infinite God could lavish on the beloved. Remember the arms that have held you and know that even the most wonderful moments only dimly speak of a greater love yet to be, and somehow now.

Remember you are loved.

Remember you are claimed.

Remember you belong.

Remember you're forgiven.

Remember you are freed.

Remember you are loved.