“to love at all is to be vulnerable.
love anything, and your heart will certainly
be wrung and possibly broken.
if you want to make 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,
-c. s. lewis
i have been thinking on this passage from one of c. s. lewis' books while stitching on my boro heart. i can think of no better truth than this when it comes to loving. to living. at times, i have done this, and know from whence he speaks. that casket is warm. soft. protected. but is also stifling. fosters death. one should not be found in a casket until after one has left this mortal world behind.
this boro heart reflects my own heart quite nicely. true, there are a lot of breaks and cracks. some still to be mended and re-attached. but still growing. loving. living. beneath this shattered heart is another. whole. unbroken heart.
still vulnerable. eternally vulnerable. ready to be placed in the hands of one who would cherish and nurture it. it is only wrapped in the tattered and embroidered robes of the heart broken by others.
this heart has much farther to go before it will become the jewel it is destined to be. but for now, it will rest and infuse my home with its warmth and life. whispering quietly to my soul. filling the soft and reticent nights with its soothing tones. i would believe anything you tell me, so long as it is whispered...