Everyone Has Sharp Corners
Loving someone is not believing they have no edges — it may be coming to know even those edges, little by little. Not walking together because we're perfect, but reaching out a hand again knowing neither of us is.
Everyone has sharp corners. Even the gentlest person sometimes says something cutting, and even between two people who cherish each other, there are days when hearts miss each other.
So loving someone may not be believing they have no edges — it may be coming to know even those edges, little by little.
If I get caught on one of your sharp corners
and it stings — “ouch!” — that's all right.
I might feel a little hurt, sulk for a moment, or wander a long while failing to properly hear what your heart meant.
Even so, I don't want to hate the whole of who you are over one small pain. Because I know you hold far more warm places than sharp ones.
And surely I have corners that hurt you too. If you can spot even the sharp parts I haven't yet discovered, and sometimes tell me, “this spot hurts a little,” I want to listen well and grow rounder, bit by bit.
Not walking together because we are perfect, but knowing neither of us is — and reaching out a hand again anyway.
Maybe that's what loving someone for a long time really is.
So even if I get caught on your sharp corner and yelp “ouch!”, I can dust myself off, get right up, and boldly take your hand.
And walk with you again, toward where the sunlight is.
With all my strength!