I began this post with prayer, closing my laptop and asking Him to shut my mouth and keep my fingers from typing my own words.

I just want Him.

I don’t want to speak here – especially not with this post.

This blog began years ago, and a lot of it was born out of a hurt place in my heart that craved a place to write and share, to voice my thoughts and (hopefully) have someone come along on the journey.

I was completely broken, not trusting a soul, and with a guarded heart. I was leaning on Him, but believed things about myself that greatly impacted my life – and still impact my life today. Four years ago today, I was hit with the lie that I am unlovable because I am 1) too much and 2) not enough.

Too much of the wrong things, not enough of the good stuff.

Four years ago today, I got into a fight with my best friend.

My world imploded with one conversation, and it hasn’t been the same since. A broken life was the result of a shattered heart, and there was a new lie to believe for each shard that lay scattered about.

I’ve written countless times on here about this journey of healing and grace, learning to trust again and realizing the lies were, well, lies. But for every time I wrote about this path I’ve been on for the past four years, there have been at least ten posts unwritten – because He is doing a work on the inside, transforming me into a new creation.

And sometimes that takes time and space, and sometimes there just wasn’t a free hour or two for me to write it all out. Some of the changes have happened so slowly that it wasn’t until months later that I realized I had even changed – but He is faithful to complete the work.

I wish I could tell you that after four years, we’re speaking again. I wish I could honestly write the words that we’re friends, but that isn’t the case.

It’s been four years – and we are strangers.

I trust His Plan in it all. Most days are a breeze and I don’t feel the sting of what often felt like betrayal and loneliness. But if I’m being honest, sometimes it just hurts.

Every year, this week stings and knocks me to my knees, praying for His healing and restoration for our friendship, and thanking Him for Who He is and all He has done. When May 26th rolls around on the calendar, it’s hard to draw a full breath. I miss her so much, but I trust Him more.

(source // here)

I’m unsure what to write this year, because so much has changed in me while nothing has happened with us. As I prayed and asked God what to write, I had the sudden thought to write a letter. Not a real one with paper and a pen, but on here – a way to remember and {hopefully} bring Him glory at the same time.

I have no segway, no words or pretty way to put this post together, but I pray you’ll see the fingerprints of His Faithfulness all over this.


Dear Friend, 

May I still call you friend? I know we would never say that out loud to each other now, but I remember those days. It’s been so long. Four long, long years. Do you even remember me? Do you remember that moment at camp long ago when we first “clicked?” Our friendship grew so quickly and we laughed more than anything. I love the sound of your laughter. The guys made fun of it, but only because they knew it would get you riled up. Your laugh was always so joyful. 

Most days I’m more than okay. I’ve met so many new friends, and even consider two of them my best friends. I know you won’t believe that – but it’s true. I’ve grown a lot, and I think you would actually be proud of me – He has done so much work on my heart, and I am so thankful. 

But I want you to know this, and I want you to know it bad: I miss you. Every year May 26th rolls around and I can barely get a full breath because I. just. miss. you. I write this with tears in my eyes, wanting to erase these words because how could we have ever ended our friendship? How could we allow four years to go by? How could we live states away and never send an update on all we’re learning and the new places we’ve explored? You came to my city and I so wanted it to be different. I wanted to go back a few years to when we were still friends – so I could show you all the cute coffee shops and the lookout of Birmingham. It’s the best view, and you would have loved it. 

Four years ago, you broke me. My heart completely shattered and I stopped believing in love. I really truly stopped believing. I guarded my heart more than ever before and for years I allowed no one in. Love was dead to me, because I didn’t see how it could exist. Every time “I love you” had left your lips, I told myself it had been a lie. The whole thing, a lie. But deep inside, every time I tried to convince my heart you had never meant a word – my heart rejected it. Because I knew you. I knew the hard details and the happy times, the layout of your house from sleepovers, the things that made you tick, and the words to say that would have you doubled over laughing. 

The thing is, I broke you, too. I cut you real deep and I said words I never should have. That Wednesday when you were back in town, the first time we saw each other after the words had been written, I could barely look at you. I didn’t want you to see how broken I was, but I also didn’t want to see how much I had broken you. You hurt me, but I am just as much at fault. 

In real life, if I ever speak of us, I always make it emphatically clear that I made mistakes, too. I promised myself I would never talk of us without making it a point to paint myself in the wrong, too. Because I would hope you wouldn’t, either. And because this truth remains: 

I love you. Still, after four years, I love you so much. 

I don’t know who you are anymore, and I don’t know where your life is headed. I don’t know if you still love Wicked or if you have the same dreams, but I know who you were and I have to believe you’re still that person inside. We loved each other at our worst, and then we just let go. Why? Why did we do that? Why didn’t we fight it out and fight for us – how could we allow the Body of Christ to break? The thing is, I could point to a million things we (I) did wrong, and I’ve prayed countless prayers that He would not only redeem but also restore – but whether He does or not, this is true: He is Faithful. 

He used that summer to break me and then piece me back together in the years that followed. I’ve never depended on Him for new strength each day, and I never knew the depth of His love. He is Constant, not just in the good but in the trials and in the changes. He stays, and He loved me hard. I bet you would say the same thing – to all of it. We know this: His love never fails, never gives up, and never runs out. 

Many summers ago I apologized to you, and I hope you know I meant it. I’m still sorry, but I am so thankful He doesn’t waste a hurt. I pray for you, and ask that He use you in ways you can’t even imagine. I pray He’ll use this part of your Story for good and for healing. 

I don’t know the right words to say – after four years, there’s so much to say and yet so little to be said. If I see you in the hallway at church tomorrow, I will smile and say hi – and I will hope hard inside that you’ll say hi back to me. That you’ll acknowledge me this time. If I could push a button and re-do everything, yet keep the lessons I’ve learned, I would do it in a heartbeat. I am so happy now, and I really do love my life (and hope you do, too). But a piece of my heart will always be missing, and I will always want you there. I will always pray that He’ll restore our friendship, but whether He restores or not, I will love Him the same and trust His Plan.

I’m thankful for the years we had, and I hope He has used these four years to challenge you, grow you, lead you, encourage you, and love you hard. He is more Faithful than we can imagine. 

I love you always.