I breathe, therefore I blog.

I have a nagging desire to be truly known. So few people know me in a way that they can anticipate what it is that will make my heart beat faster, what will thrust me into fit of uncontrollable laughter, and what will yank me into depression.

I want someone to feel the knots in my stomach when I hear of a child being robbed of her innocence. I want someone to understand the empathy and sick understanding I experience when I meet victims of alcoholic parents. I want someone to know how much I honestly enjoy every minute I am given to show a child that they are loved and cared for. I want someone to understand how conscious I am of every step as I walk in front of a crowd of people. I want someone to see the hills with the same awe-stricken, overwhelmed eyes that I do. I want someone know the tears streaming down my cheeks as I see a side of God I have never seen before. I want someone to grasp my desperate fear of dependence. I want someone to comprehend how important it is to me to know that someone, somewhere cares to know me like this.

I know a couple of people in an incredibly intimate way. Still, I often lack a true understanding of their inner-workings. I don’t know my sister, my friends, or my mom like this. I know what they like and can often predict how they will react, but it’s a different knowing. Maybe spouses or twins know each other in this way.

I trust that the Creator knows me in this way- a way that is reserved for Him alone. A knowing that draws me back into His embrace. A knowing that I cannot find anywhere else.