“What are you saying about me?” I know I heard my name, even though I’ve already said hello and am walking past. It’s been a while since I heard it from him.
“Oh… I said, you have fancy bag for that computer.” His eyes almost light up again for a moment.
I roll my eyes, laughingly. “Yes?”
“You should get a backpack. They’re so much better. That- that’s just ridiculous.”
I have no idea why he’s discussing my computer’s little case with G-off, any more than I know why he seems most like himself when he wears my favorite sweatshirt. I shrug. “You’re just jealous.”
He shrugs too, still smiling, and says he likes his backpack, and I walk away to work at a small table where I can see the sun.

“You still love him, don’t you?” she asks later when I tell her the silly story.
I guess I’m not thinking about anything but that word, “love”; a smile creeps up on me and I can only shake my head to show my futility. “Yes; yes, darn it, I do.”
She looks benevolent. “I thought so last week, but yesterday I was pretty sure. And I was reassuring myself that you were getting over him…”

I walk out to wash dishes for tea, thinking I ought to feel at least as hopeless about loving someone who is gone as she does; but all I can think is that I did love him, and I need to do that the right way now. I realized I am not afraid to have loved and to love without receiving love back because I simply can’t be afraid of not receiving back a love that is not my own. The love of Christ compels me- I want to see him joyful, delighting in God, confidently responding to His call; that is the sort of love I cannot let go of. Still, I don’t love him well, I think. I am selfish, and I’d rather get him to smile at me than pray for him.
I pick up to the chapter on France’s attempt at “normalcy” in the inter-war period, but I’d much rather be at the music building. My Desire by Jeremy Camp comes on; it makes me put down my book and close my eyes. Sometimes my fingers think they really knew how to play the piano once, and my brain has forgotten how; I get the sudden urge to sit down and play. I listen to this song instead, simple as it is, because it’s why I want to play. And I know that the way I can still love is in found in Jesus. Jesus Christ invites me to a life of love, of commitment to Him before everything and everyone else, which means all the other loves are secondary. Only He matters, really; truly. Loving Him matters, and serving Him matters. Love is the outpouring of that, what it looks like, what it should be, because He first loved us. I need to allow Him to take my hopelessness, my rags, and delight in the garment of praise He gives me.