Love Them From Afar

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Well, good morning, my baby. I hope you're easing into your morning and not rushing yourself too much. Before we get in today's conversation, I just want you to meet me right here for a moment. Wherever you are, whether you're lying in bed, making your coffee, driving to work, or sitting on your porch listening to the birds wake up. I want you to take one slow, intentional breath with me. Breathe in through your nose. Hold it gently. Now slowly let it go. Again. Breathe in. Hold it. And release. One more time. Breathe in. And then breathe out everything that doesn't belong in this moment. Now let's talk. Now I don't think we talk enough about what it feels like to love somebody from afar. And I don't mean, you know, loving someone because they moved away or because life simply took you in different directions. I'm talking about loving someone whose absence became very necessary. And that's a different kind of love. It's the kind of love that still wants good things for them. A love that still hopes they heal, still hopes they find their joy, still hopes they become everything that God intended for them to be. But somewhere along that way, you realize that you could no longer continue walking beside them without losing pieces of yourself. And that is one of the hardest realities to accept because most of us were taught that if we really love somebody, we would stay. And baby, all of us have done it. We keep trying, we keep explaining ourselves, we'll keep forgiving. We keep hoping that one more conversation would finally be the conversation that changed everything. And don't get me wrong, I believe in grace. I do. I believe people can grow. I believe relationships can be restored, but I also believe that not every relationship is meant to continue in the same capacity forever. Sometimes the season changes. Sometimes the people change, sometimes you're the one who changed. It's not that you become better than anybody, you just become healthier. And that's a difference. You start paying attention to the things you used to excuse, you stop taking yourself out of your own discernment, you stop convincing yourself that your discomfort wasn't real. And once you begin honoring what God has been showing you, it's hard to go back to pretending that you don't see it. And I want us to pause for a second. I want you to take another deep breath with me. I need you to breathe in. I need you to hold it. And then I also want you to let it go. Or maybe we're mourning who we believe they were to become. Sometimes we're grieving an expectation more than we're grieving the person. We're holding on to these moments and conversations and promises and potential, and every now and then, you know, we'll catch a glimpse of that version of them that made us fall in love with their heart in the first place. And you know, we'll tell ourselves, you know, see, that's that's who they really are. But my baby, if you're only seeing the version every once in a while, and the rest of the time you're left recovering from the relationship, then maybe it's time to accept that the exception cannot become your expectation. That doesn't mean that they're a bad person. And honestly, I think we've gotten into this habit of believing somebody has to become a villain before we are allowed to create distance. Because sometimes, you know, the reality is that's that's not everybody's case. Sometimes it's simply not good for our spirit anymore. Sometimes the relationship has become exhausting. Sometimes every interaction leaves us emotionally drained. Sometimes you've been, you know, the one carrying the relationship by yourself for so long that you forgot what mutual effort even feels like. And I know, I know that's hard for all of us to hear because you know, if you are anything like me, your heart naturally wants to see the good in people. And although I do think that that's a beautiful quality, and I don't want you to lose it, and the world still needs people who believe in others, you also have to listen and understand discernment. You know, there is a difference between believing in somebody and building your entire life around the hope that they'll eventually become who you need them to be. Those, my baby, are two different things. I had to learn that loving somebody doesn't always mean giving them unlimited access. You know, sometimes in love it's simply saying that I'm praying for you. Sometimes in love is saying, I genuinely hope life is kind to you, and sometimes, you know, love is I can't continue doing this with you. None of those statements cancel each other out, they can all exist in the same heart. I think that's what maturity has been teaching all of us that boundaries and compassion don't have to compete with one another, baby. They can coexist and you can have both. You can be kind without constantly making yourself available, and you can forgive without reopening every door. You can wish someone well without inviting them back into spaces that they repeatedly mishandle. And I I know somebody listening this morning has been carrying, you know, some guilt. Because you had to step back from someone that you truly care about. And baby, that could be in a friendship, that could be with a family member, maybe it's someone you once imagined spending the rest of your life with. And every now and again, you know, you wonder if you made the right decision because you still love them. But can I tell you something? Missing someone doesn't always mean you should return. Love doesn't always mean proximity. Sometimes you miss who you are with them, sometimes you miss the routine, sometimes you miss what you hoped it become. But that doesn't necessarily mean you're supposed to go back. I need you to take a deep breath with me. Yeah. Breathe in. Hold it. And slowly let it go. I want you to notice how your body feels right now. Because our bodies have a way of telling the truth before our mouths are ready to admit it. Have you ever been around someone and your shoulders immediately become dense? Your stomach tightens, your thoughts begin to race. You found yourself, you know, going over conversations before they even happen. Then you leave them, and it takes you hours, maybe even days, to feel like yourself again. I need you to pay attention to that. And I always say to God, God gives us discernment, but sometimes he also lets our bodies participate in that conversation, you know, because peace has a language. So does chaos. I need you to learn the difference and here's something else that I know for myself. Sometimes we think loving people from afar means that we failed. But what if it's actually an act of trust? What if stepping back is your way of saying, you know, God, you know, I trust you to do what I no longer can? Some of us have spent years trying to heal people who never asked to be healed. Oof, I repeat that again. Sometimes, some of us have spent years trying to heal people who never asked to be healed, trying to convince people to choose us, trying to make people understand our hearts, trying to hold together relationships that require two sets of hands while we only had our own. Maybe things get heavy. And eventually you have to decide whether you're going to spend your life carrying relationships or carrying peace. And baby, I don't know about you, but I've learned that peace is worth protecting. Not because I don't love people. But I think it's because I finally learned that I have to love me do. And baby, maybe that is the lesson this morning to carry with you this week. Maybe loving people from afar isn't about loving them less. Maybe it's about finally loving yourself enough to stop calling sacrifice by the name of love. Maybe it's realizing that some people can remain in your prayers without remaining in your everyday life. And I just, maybe I just wanted to let you know that's okay. That doesn't make you a person who is cold, that doesn't make you selfish, it doesn't make you unforgiving. It simply means that you've learned that every relationship is not meant to have lifetime access. As we get ready to leave each other this morning, I want us to take one final breath together. Breathe in slowly. Hold it. Now let it all go. And if it's let in your spirit, I'd like you to close your eyes as I say this to you. As we say this prayer. Father, thank you for giving us hearts that know how to love deeply. Help us never become bitter because of what we've experienced, but also help us not to ignore the wisdom you've been trying to teach us. Give us the courage to release relationships that no longer produce peace and remind us that we can love people without losing ourselves. Teach us how to pray for those we've had to love from afar and let our boundaries never come from anger, but from the confidence that you are able to care for them far better than we ever could. And while you're teaching us how to love others well, teach us how to love ourselves with the same grace that you've always shown us. In Jesus' name. Amen. Have a gentle morning. In a week, my baby. I will see you next week, same time. Now breathe.