The real kind.
Gosh. I've struggled with intimacy in my life. The real kind, the kind where you let your every fault, fear, and desire show. The kind where you let people in so deeply you forget where their hopes and thoughts end and your own start. The kind where an ebb and flow grows in the way you walk with one another, becoming one, where souls and spirits begin conversing more than mouths. You hold a knowing, a wisdom, and a love that can't be verbally articulated but only felt. And perhaps witnessed.
In many seasons, I've lived life with my arm outstreched - helping and loving, but keeping people just far enough no one notices we're not actually arm in arm. I let them lean into me, but rarely allow myself to fully lean into them- to strip my fears, to comfort my dreams, and to demand my raw vulnerability. How unfair? How unfair to those desperately yearning to not only receive deep love but have a safe place to employ giving it.
And I'm saying no more. I want it all. The real love. The real intimacy. The kind that's result of a vulnerability so raw I'm left feeling naked and exposed. And my prayer is as I stand before those seeking to love me, naked, I find I'm fully unashamed.