“Follow your heart,” they say.
“The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked,” taught others, and they were quoting The Book word for word.
Which is right? Is the heart the seed of wickedness or the seed of truth?
I like my heart. She is good and kind to me (and others). She has remarkable faith in my abilities as well as empathy and admiration for others. Everything daring I have ever dared, she instigated, then cheered me on. Every sorrow that seemed to rip me asunder, she wept. Every human being who defied their stereo-type–it was her who saw their humanity and pointed it out to my lofty mind.
Even when following her lead has broken my heart, how can I be angry at her, who endures the brunt of the brokenness in her very core and does so with such grace? I honestly cannot recall a time she erred, beyond the necessary missteps of maturing.
And yet, I live my life so afraid of her, for it was always said she would lead me astray, get me into trouble, guide me off the beaten path. I guess they were right. She had led me out of bounds and into troubles and past the fence and outside expectations and down a trail I had to blaze myself, that naughty girl, God bless her.
She is the friend who is always, unquestionably, on my side while remaining capable of generosity towards those I find most threatening. She is the pioneer, companion, pulsing beat of who I am. I’m just about ready to trust her.