Like a Hurricane Wind.

“And you move through my soul like a hurricane wind.”

I guess, I’ve never had anyone send me a song lyric expressing how he felt and write to me like that before. Because when I read it, a hand reached into me and clouds of warm steam billowed inside of me in a way I had never felt before. It unnerved me, because I had no control over this feeling. I am used to being in control of my feelings. I was scared. I am still scared. I get more scared thinking about it.

I guess, I’ve never had anyone put his arm around me like that before. When Pastor asked us to take the hand of someone next to us or put our hands on someone’s shoulder, that manly hold around me suddenly surprised and comforted me. I didn’t expect it at all. For some strange, inexplicable reason, it felt peculiarly familiar and right, like an empty puzzle slot being filled with the right piece. At that moment, it felt it belonged there. But then, thinking about it just minutes later, I was Petrified. I was so scared I talked to you about it and said I couldn’t take that sort of thing.

It scares me too much, I said.

This whole thing scares me when I think about it.

Your Mercedes-benz scar burned across your chest like a symbol of war inspires

awe and respect and fear in me.

I guess, it’s just that I’ve grown up hearing a lot of fighting and seeing a lot of drama from people I know. Cheating, affairs, spite, hatred- I’ve seen the whole works played out in drama-serial proportions in real life before. The idealistic girl inside of me permits no tainted form of love and has thus, become wildly afraid of it. For so long I’d convinced myself I’d be better off doing missions and serving God and the poor by myself.

I’m afraid. What do I do now?

How do I react to:

“And you move through my soul like a hurricane wind.”

I don’t know what to say, or what to do.

All I can do is pray, though

all I can feel is fear.

All I can say for now is, you’ve really got some kind of guts.