God,

Sometimes I wonder if something is wrong with me.

I feel everything so deeply. I care with every inch of my patchwork heart. I notice the little things that no one else seems to pay attention to. I love in ways that crack me open, and sometimes, it feels like all of that makes me too much. Too intense. Too sensitive. Too disorienting.

I’ve seen it happen before with those I have tried to give my heart to — the slow distancing once things get too close, the way my tenderness or my sadness or my hopes are met with silence, or discomfort. After a while, it becomes easier and easier to believe that maybe I’ll never find the person who sees love as deeply as I do. Maybe my heart asks for more than people are willing to give. Maybe the way I care, the way I hope, is just too big to make a home within. 

God, this is exhausting for my heart. I always feel like I have to shrink myself down to fit into spaces that don’t actually see me clearly. I’m always apologizing — for crying too easily, for laughing too loudly, for loving too deeply, for dreaming too big. I’m always left wondering if I should silence the enormity of my soul, of my sensitivity, in order to fit in, in order to connect. 

I don’t want to believe that my heart is a burden, but sometimes it feels like it is, God.

Please meet me here, along this journey, when shame tries to convince me to dim my light just to make others more comfortable. Remind me that you created me with intention, and that my sensitivity, my depth, and my intensity are not flaws to be numbed or broken down. They are reflections of you — the God who feels, who cries, who rejoices, who holds all things tenderly.

Help me to stop apologizing for the way you made me, God. Help me stop trying to shrink my heart to fit into places it was never meant to stay. Help me to trust that the right people, the people you have willed into existence for me, will not only make space for me, but will thank you for the way my soul shows up. 

Teach me to be kinder to myself, God. Teach me how to guard my heart when necessary, how to protect the beauty it holds within it. But don’t let me close it off out of fear. Don’t let me desensitize myself just because some human beings couldn’t stand within what I offered them. Don’t let me lose the softness that you wove into my soul. 

And when loneliness cracks into my life God, when I’m tempted to believe I’ll never find a place where I belong exactly as I am — remind me that I already have a place in you. Remind me that your  arms are not too weak for my heart. That you are not overwhelmed by my needs, or my feelings, or my dreams. Remind me that you see all of me, that you choose all of me, that you welcome me deeply.

Thank you for this heart, God, even when it feels like it might be too much for this generation or this world. Thank you for the love that pours out of me, even when it feels misunderstood. Thank you for staying close to the parts of me that others may not understand.

Gently teach me that I was never meant to be “just enough” for those in my life, God. I was always meant to be exactly who you made me to be. No shrinking. No watering myself down. No shame. Just a heart that loves out loud. Just a heart that never apologizes for its hope.

Amen.