Hi. My name is Holly and I’m addicted to love.
My addiction to love is less like the 80’s pop song (you’re gonna want to YouTube that) and more like Ted Mosby from the show How I Met Your Mother. If you haven’t seen the show, let me give you a brief synopsis. Actually, the title kinda does that for me. What the title doesn’t explain is the fact that Ted is a hopeless romantic. He falls in love fast and hard. The words “I love you” fall quickly from his lips– and no matter how many times he’s said it, or to the countless women he’s said it to without it being reciprocated, he continues to love anyway.
I’ve loved lavishly.
Many times loving people who I knew had no intention of loving me back.
And I’ve learned something. Love makes people uncomfortable. Sure, some of us say we want it, but we RUN when the opportunity presents itself to actually be loved. Ya, even Holly the one addicted to love has hit the eject button when faced with real, genuine love.
I remember when I first saw him. It was a lot like the movies actually. This still framed moment in the midst of the blurred chaos. He was across the room from me– unaware of my existence at that point and my first thought was something along the lines of “Who is that hottie?!?!” And then immediately thinking, “Someone like THAT, could never love someone like ME.”
Even after becoming friends, and I being allowed to be one of his closest confidants, I reminded myself he could never love me. At the time I didn’t see it as insecurity necessarily, but just practical thinking. Why love someone if you know they’ll never love you back? So, I built this nice little wall around my heart and decided it was better that way.
This went on for years, people. I’d dismiss every opportunity he took to lavish me with love– even at times unintentionally rejecting him. It was silly and showed my immaturity BIG time. And then one day, he told me he loved me.
“Holly, I love you.” I wonder what it means, I confided to a friend later that day. Ummmmm…..I don’t know. Seems pretty straight forward, Holly. I know that’s what you are all thinking too, but I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t feel worthy of his love. I felt like a wreck. He needed someone skinnier, or prettier or less emotional or less opinionated. Not me.
And that’s what I do with Jesus. I pine away for His love, hoping and praying (literally) that He’ll show it to me. And He does every time. And every time I dismiss it. Overlook it. Make excuses how it can’t be real or true that Someone so perfect, could love imperfect me. And yet, He does. The very depth, width and height of it boggles my mind. Even when I struggle. Even when I’m a wreck. Even when I whore my love out to other lesser things, He loves me.
Jesus’ love makes me uncomfortable because I can’t fully grasp it. I’ve sung Jesus loves me since I was a little rosy cheeked Sunday schooler– my head knows it very well. But some days, MOST days, my heart doesn’t get it. Not really. Yet, Jesus showed His “addiction” to love in the most powerful way imaginable. Proving there’s nothing He wouldn’t do for me. There’s no denying it.