I miss belonging to someone. My someone.
My someone could’ve picked anyone, but he picked me… and he kept picking me, every single day. My someone knew my favorite color, and flower, and song. My someone had a special ringtone for me, so he would never miss my calls. My someone looked at me with love (and maybe even a little bit of pride) and said, “she’s mine.”
I wasn’t always lovable, but he loved me nonetheless, because I was his person.
- His best friend
- His helper
- His lover
- His confidante
- His muse
- His cheerleader
- His forever date
- His ride or die
- His home
And he was mine.
When you are someone’s person, you don’t have to wonder if you’re going to have a Valentine, a dinner date or a “plus one.” You don’t have to find a second driver for that road trip or sit alone at your kid’s wedding. You don’t have to ignore the drippy faucet or skip the pickle because you’re not strong enough to tighten the washer or open the jar. You don’t have to rub your own tired muscles, or go get your own medicine when you’re sick. You don’t have to make all the decisions, all of the time.
When you’re someone’s person, he’ll notice when the gas tank is on empty or the tires are low. He won’t let you drive in bad weather or forget to eat. He’ll make sure you are safe. He’ll put your needs first; not because other people’s needs aren’t important, but because, to him, you are more important. You’re his person.
There are inside jokes and that special smile that lights up when you walk into the room. There are hand squeezes and awkward selfies and text messages that make you giggle. When you’re someone’s person, home isn’t a place; home is wherever they are. Because they’re your person, too.
When you are someone’s person, you never have to wonder if you are loved.
There is still Someone who calls me His. He picked me… and He keeps picking me, every single day. He knows everything about me. He may not open my pickle jars, but He keeps me safe and gives me strength to do things I never thought possible. He delights in me. He never puts me on hold or ignores my calls. In fact, He wants to spend time with me and longs to hear my voice. He loves me unconditionally and will never, ever leave me alone.
His name is Jesus, and He loves me simply because I am His.
His person. His princess. His joy and delight. His girl.
He is mine. He is home.
And I am loved. I’m not always lovable, but He loves me nonetheless. In fact, I like to imagine that this Someone also looks at me with love (and maybe even a little bit of pride) and says, “she’s mine.”
“There is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry, ‘Mine!’” (Abraham Kuyper)
