"just call me, and I'll always be there...."

"You with the sad eyes,
don't be discouraged;
though I realize
it's hard to take courage
in a world full of people
you can lose sight of it all;

and the darkness inside,
can make you feel so small..."

Endless Summer's cover of Cyndi Lauper's "True Colors," is kind. And yes, a performance of a song can be kind. This is.

I love the message of this song. A lot. Today, as I was hiking back up a steep (for me) hill. I felt a sliver of darkness trying to creep in and make me feel small. I know that feeling of smallness. There have been times in my life when this smallness has felt like the only thing present.

I am not a perfect human. In the past, I have let fear and doubt bully me into behaviors that I am not proud of. For such a long time, those mistakes felt like the only milestones that peppered my timeline. I couldn't remember a single positive period in my life, without the gremlin of mistake poking its head in and saying, "don't bother smiling about that moment -- it was so small in light of all the mistakes you have made."

This verse from True Colors always touches me deeply:

"Show me a smile then
don't be unhappy.
I can't remember when
I last saw you laughing.

This world makes you crazy
taking all that you can bear.

Just call me up,
'cause I'll always be there...."

Every where I looked, I had reasons for self-doubt and regret. I had always wanted to be - only good. To be loved, liked, accepted -- to belong. That hunger for belonging was ravenous. If you have ever been truly hungry, you know that it is not a feeling you can just ignore. It twists and aches in you. Those who have known real hunger will tell you that there comes a point where you will eat the unthinkable, just to make it stop.

I have known that kind of social and spiritual hunger. And I would have done anything to make it stop. In some instances I did whatever it took to alleviate the ache of loneliness and the feeling of being detached from Love.

So what changed. I found someone. Someone who had realized that their life's purpose was being the one who saw the true spectrum of each person's "true colors" through the lens of Christian Science practice. And I knew from our very first conversation that no matter what horror story I told them about my "past," they would never - ever - believe it.

It was like re-telling a nightmare to your mom. She loves you, she listens, she assures you that it never happened (or would ever happen) and then she reminds you to eat your breakfast and not forget your homework.

There was never a sharp intake of breath, never a sigh of "oh my gosh," or a moving away from me -- only love. Always love. Always there. Even when I couldn't see my own worth. They did. And through their eyes, I began to understand that what was true about me, was not in contrast with what was false, -- it was all.

In their eyes, I felt seen. Through the lens of their heart I felt known -- and beautiful.  I felt like a child of God.

And in their eyes, I wasn't just the bright light of my good moments, or the darkness of my bad choices. I was also the soft blues of gentleness, the fervent reds of fierce hope, the rich greens of a verdant faith, the deep purples of earnest devotion, the brown sackcloth of self-immolation and surrender, the sunflower yellows and September golds of harvested experiences. Each one, pointing to the presence of light itself -- with its wholeness of spectrum, tone, saturation, hue.

In their eyes, I saw the fullness of my heart's deepest desire -- to be good. And it was that desire that turned even the darkest day feel like an opportunity to discover the beauty of slate blue, charcoal gray, sea green, and bleached wheat.

I am so grateful. When someone truly sees you, they don't just stand on the other side of the chasm, and tell you to cross over.  But they hold out their hand, pull in beside you, and offer to walk you forward -- that is love. Pure and simple. It is love.

offered with Love,

Cate