Something is there that doesn’t love a wall
I always find myself building walls.
It's a really bad habit that I have. It's a stupid one too. I fully realize the futility of it all. Yet before I know it, I find myself with bricks in hand, building again.
I build in an attempt to protect. I fear hurt and loss, and so I figure that the sooner I
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"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to be sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket--safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell." C.S. Lewis, "The Four Loves"
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I've built so many walls in my life time. But what I learned is that while they may safely harbor me for a short while, the pain of tearing them down makes it so not worth it. I don't like to be vulnerable, I don't like to be hurt. And yet, Jesus was just that-He made himself vulnerable and He was hurt. So that gives me hope! *hugs* hang in there Lindsay! and thank you for bringing this important topic to mind.
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