Before streaming, before the internet, before CD’s, there was the time of radio. Even then, I carried imprints from my past and wounds for my future.
In 1982 one song captured my heart. I had to know the depths of it. (yup I was 11, but a pisces moon growing up in the most love filled music period ever. 1971-1985)
The radio DJ announced “my song” was up next and I was ready!
He introduced the song, dropping the needle on the record and my heart was pounding. As the song started playing, HE KEPT TALKING!! An 11 year old boy can curse and be alone all day, I was getting good at it!
I was going to have to hear this assbag over the top of my song, over and over again! Well, at least I pressed play & record fast AF. My best friend at the time, my little gray radio/tape recorder never let me down. It was always there.
In 1982, you could record from the radio and no one wanted to “shake down gramma” for recording Johnny Mathis! It was a great time when we didn’t attack each other as a society, we only loved and the world was love… The age of Greece and Xanadu.
Where was I?
Oh yeah… that little black cassette tape with its “scotch tape over the hole” was my prized possession. I played it over and over. I had to write down every single word.
I was so proud of myself for getting it perfect!. I had every word to Chicago’s “Hard to Say I’m Sorry” down in pencil on 8×11 lined notepad.
Wait what!?
Why would an 11 year old poor Mexican boy struggling with facial hair write out every word of “Hard to Say I’m Sorry”?
It definitely wasn’t because of my vast relationship experience! I wouldn’t even “poorly” kiss a girl, for another 4 years.
Well, 41 years later, I can hear the echoes of this song’s importance in the canyon of my life.
The waves of “lost love” in the song were going to beat me against the rocks of life for years to come. Mistakes to be made in relationship after relationship. Mistakes and wounds that eventually had those very same waves of lost love, drown me.
That is, until the day in Boulder I told you about recently. That’s the day I built the walls up so high, no wave of “lost love” would ever find me.
As I mentioned before. God had another plan. Within 2 weeks of Boulder my love arrived.
She stood strong and gently pulled the wall down… brick by brick. She caught any that I threw at her for tearing down my defenses, and she gently set them down around us.
I was safe.
I agreed to do the same for her. Admittedly I wasn’t as good at it as she was.
Together, we forgave each other for wounds neither of us created.
Together we moved into love and a world of being “lonely together as a couple”.
Everyone else was outside of the walls and I honestly liked it like that. I still do. I prefer to be alone. Alone with my love.
If you’ve ever met me at an event, you know, I show up, chill for a few, then go back to my room. I’m not interested in partying, staying up all night, networking, none of it interests me. I enjoy pushing love from every pore of my being and God gives me everything I need… and so much more.
I mention this today because love is surrender when you least expect it.
Surrendering when they ask you to take your bricks down.
Surrender when you’re scared, lonely, and afraid.
Surrendering to God’s plan, knowing it will all be OK.
Surrendering to love and what it can be, even with your wounds.
If I could teach my own daughters anything, it would be to drop the bricks and never pick them up again. We don’t need walls, we need surfboards and to learn to navigate the waves rather than to fight against them.
Thank you for helping me to see that Crystal.