I am what my heart contains

You can tell the kind of person one is by the things closest to his heart. One of my classmates sent a very heartwarming and honest account of the things, places and people he loves. Since I have not seen and talked to this friend for a long time, it was through his account that he re-introduced himself to me. And now, I have a more updated and accurate view of who this person really is inside. For that, I am very grateful to him.

Allow me to do the same. Allow me to introduce myself to you not by what I have accomplished or by what I have but by those people, things and places that fill my heart.

I love Jesus Christ – not with the kind of feeling that one has when prayers are answered and life is like a stroll in the park. I love Him with a commitment that sees beyond life’s circumstances. In fact, I find it easier to stick to this commitment when things are not going my way. I love Him and desire to obey the Bible, His love letter to me, every step of the way. I love Him because I have known the depth of His love for me.

And all my other “loves” emanate from this attachment with the One Who made time to allow me in this world.

I love my kids, husband and family and I want to protect them fiercely from life’s occasional unkindness. My parents may not be the perfect ones in the world but I continually thank my Heavenly Father for giving them to me. They are very dear to me. My brothers and sister may not be aware of this but I love them so dearly, too. Same with my in-laws – my husband’s entire family of 10 siblings, their father and their extended families. I have made a commitment that whoever my husband loves, I will love him/her more than he does. This is my way of letting him know that his priorities and joys in life are also mine.

I am a vegetarian, therefore I love vegetables, especially green, leafy ones. If the adage “You are what you eat” is true, then perhaps I am relatively a healthy person.

I love books. I want to retire early so that I can spend my days reading and reading and perhaps, making books as well that I might share with others the joy of reading. Reading for me is like entering a different world. It gives me a certain feeling of liberation from the bounds of time and space. Reading allows me to enter the lives and bedrooms and thoughts of the characters I read about. When I was a young girl, I used to wish for more books in our house. My mother bought a set of Encyclopedia but my father who was not into academic and cerebral pursuits, told her to give the set back to the seller. Had I grown up with those books, my assignments would have been easier to make and my weekends and nights more magical.

I also used to go with a friend during lunch breaks because they had a lot of books in their house. I will bring my packed lunch with me and eat fast so that as I wait for her to finish her lunch, I would be able to read even just for a few minutes. Even the college books of students who used to live in our house were not spared. Even as a grader, I would read their biology, botany or physics books during weekends, long breaks and summer vacations for lack of anything else to read. Twice, I stumbled upon a pornographic book. I finished reading it without understanding a thing – until I saw a sequel of that book that I realized they were not meant for a little girl.

I love coffee and sipping a steaming mug with a friend or two. But I prefer to have a cup during a rainy day, alone, while curled up in the sofa with a nice book.

Which leads me to my next love – the rain. Others get depressed when it’s gloomy and dark outside or the sky is overcast. Not me. When it’s raining, I feel like I am being washed and my little troubles go down the drain. The rain gives me an excuse to stay at home and watch from the window. The smell of the ground getting wet brings back memories from my childhood – when my dreams were young and my heart still sheltered.

I love to cook. It’s like therapy to me. When I am depressed or in a foul mood, I take refuge in the kitchen and at once, all the bad thoughts are gone, burned perhaps in the stove. My hubby and the kids are the greatest fans and evidences of my cooking. Cooking is my way of expressing my love to family and friends. When I cook for someone, I feel like performing a love ritual for him or her. My kids, when they were smaller, would ask why I cook well. I always told them I put in a lot of love, that’s why.

I can not cook the same dish twice with exactly the same taste or outcome as my product always reflects my prevailing mood, available ingredients or the person I am cooking for. But as I go on cooking the same thing over and over again, I can only promise that it gets better every time. Just like wine, just like women, my cooking gets better with time.

I love my friends. I don’t have a lot but those I consider true ones are forever kept in my heart. I will not trade them for anything in the world. They define who I am as I do not befriend anyone who does not, somehow, reflect my own nature.

I love music, sunsets and sleep.

I love to hold hands and laugh and pig out.

I love life in its entirety – the challenges it brings and the hopes and promises yet unfulfilled. I particularly love hope as it gives me another reason to anticipate a new day which brings with it the renewed mercies of the Lord.

These are my “loves” and this is me.