Letters to a Once Broken Heart

I have been writing these past few months about so many things in my life except one thing - my love life. I wonder if you still call it "love life" even if there's not really life in it.

My silence meant that I was not ready to disclose the most fragile parts of me, the most painful part of my life this year. But I think that my long wait to "feeling super okay" before I write again about the matters of my heart is pointless.

This timely post by Jeff Goins is so moving that it made me decide to write again. I decided to write again to help myself and others heal.

I entitled this series of letters "Letters to a Once Broken Heart" because a broken heart does not remain broken unless the owner chooses to let it remain that way. And if I write to such, I fear they’d not find this helpful or even believable. I choose to write to once-broken-but-now-choosing-to-recover hearts.

Here's the first of the many letters I wish to write. The first one being entitled:

Moving on and on and on

Dear you,

You may think that no one can fully understand the way you feel, how deep your pain is and how badly you want to grieve and be miserable about it.
But a once-shattered-getting-whole-hearted-again person like me (I discourage you from calling yourself  "brokenhearted") can very well relate with what you feel and will be able to understand you whether you believe it or not.
Yes, these are times we want to lose control and search all outlets to heal our hearts, to give it pleasure, to make it forget.
Yes, our hearts still bleed at the remembrance or sight of the one who broke it.
Yes, what our mind, soul and body exactly want to do is to feel down and pity one’s self.
And over again, we find ourselves in this cycle of misery.
I’m well aware of this cycle- when we are led back to square one. That is- to continue holding on to pain and settle with being stuck there.

And when I say we’re back to square one, it means that we could have been doing good, our best even, during the previous days, weeks, months, or YEARS in enjoying our lives and moving forward, when suddenly, we come to a halt.

It does happen to us many times in our journey of moving forward. We’re back at that moment of bargain – stick with the pain or grieve at this halt and then get moving again.

At this point, I’m on a halt. I’m back to square one. No one says it’s easy, neither writing about this--- blood is still streaking down my chest.

But I write in hopes to tell you that you’re not alone.
I write in hopes of telling you that the key is not to stop. The halt is a pause to give yourself some time to grieve about what pains you but to give you as well the boost to get back up again.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a masochist. Neither am I an insensitive, unfeeling individual. I have feelings --- deeper than you think I have. I’m not telling you to sternly forget or banning you to deeply feel pain.

I’m telling you to move on and on and on and on and on. I call it that way because I realized that to move on is not a one time, big time step to healing. It’s a daily, an hourly, and a minutely choice we take over again.

And in this road to healing , pauses/halts are natural. They are welcome. They tell you that you’re human. They tell you that you’ve been hurt and that you acknowledge your feelings. But that’s why they’re called pauses- you cannot and must not dwell on them for long.

You pass by these “stop-overs” and get back to the road of getting your heart whole and well again. Because when you choose not to get going, you’re on your way to the road of misery.

Dear once-shattered-getting-whole-hearted-again person, don’t be stuck in these stop-overs, do move on and on and on and on.

P.S. The longer you choose to stay stuck, the farther you will be from reaching the end of healing’s road.

He stays

There are moments when you could say nothing.
No words are brave or strong enough to come out of your mouth.
But He stays, to listen to whatever He could hear from your heart-- the beat and rhythm He has well-known.

There are moments when you want to speak to no one, not even pray.
But He stays, to accompany you in the silence you wish and to wait for you to want to speak to anyone-- to Him hopefully.

There are moments when so many things run through your mind, you can't even pinpoint what bothers you most. Neither could you pour them all out for comfort.
But He stays, to offer you help. Because He knows every bit of the multitude in your head. And He-- the master of gazillion thoughts, waits for you to let Him handle yours.

There are moments when you feel no one could love you, not even yourself.
But He stays, to tell you that nothing can make Him love you less. And to remind you that you are worth loving.

There are moments when you feel like the mess you've made are far more than the right things that you did.
But He stays, to offer forgiveness daily. He stays, waiting for you to return- to welcome you in wide open arms as you repent.

There are so many other moments that occur in our lives -bleak, happy, disappointing, victorious, sad, exciting, etc.

In all these moments, He stays. For leaving us is one thing He doesn't have any idea how to do, and He can never do.

The Sun of My Day

I woke up to a gloomy morning which looked more like night than day--- the sun setting than rising. This makes getting up- out of bed even more difficult than it already is.The glue on my body to the warmth and coziness of my blanket and pillows seem to have tripled its stickiness.

But then, when you manage to sit up on a day like this, open your Bible, seek His voice, and cry out to Him, the gloom of the morning disappears in His presence. Hope rises and the heavy feeling sets back.

The Son is the sun that lights up your face. The glue dries up and rays of sun seem to go with you wherever you go and in everything that you do.

There is no gloomy day to a heart, soul and mind that God's face has shone on.

What's Meant to Last

You are allowed to pause for a minute and let the tears come out.
Let them flow, streak down your cheeks.
Let your eyes turn red and your nose too.

You can drown the world with your tears
And for a moment grieve about what pains you,
what suddenly pierced you,
the wound that surfaced.
Let yourself bleed.

Bit by bit let the pain roll away from your eyes.
Let your heart cry out and throw away what keeps it hurting.

Drown the world with your grief for a moment,
But make sure it leaves inside of you.

For a moment, bleed
For a moment, hurt
For a moment, grieve
For a moment, be weak

You are allowed to.
You are welcome to do so.
But not for long.

Because these moments were meant to pass.
And healing is meant to last in your life.

I send you to sea

The photo I used here is from Tumblr. I don't know exactly how I could cite a copyright of it, but hey, I don't own it.

And this is my 2nd attempt in making my own kind of poem porn.

There’s not a thing you left

There’s not a piece of my heart left to be broken

There’s not a piece of my mind left to be perplexed
There’s not a drop of tear left for me to shed

There’s not a tinge of pain left for me to feel

There’s not a sorrow left for me to know

There’s not a rejection left for me to accept

There’s not a betrayal left for me to discover

There’s not a nudge left for me to wait for

before I shatter into pieces

There’s not a single negativity you spared me from

And

There’s not an antidote left with you to heal me.

TO MY 19-YEAR-OLD SELF

TO MY 19-YEAR-OLD SELF

don't quit

life ahead of you is beautiful

don't quit

you've grown a beautiful woman

don't quit

you became stronger than you hoped

don't quit

your career is at its best

don't quit

your dreams are coming true

don't quit

your family is happy and content

don't quit

you have been a blessing to many

don't quit

your life is significantly lived

don't quit

your heart is whole and well

don't quit

things couldn't have happened otherwise

your 25-year-old self would not be this beautiful if you quit now.

Tears stopped and she wrote

Maybe somewhere in a left or right ventricle that bleeds, blood turns into water and finds its way out through the eyes.

These drops happen to be called tears.

Some think they're called tears because they can tear people apart. But tears are supposed to tear the sorrow, anger, and hurt from the big chunks that they are into smaller pieces to let blood circulate freely again in the heart without obstructions.

The eyes that shed the most tears are, of course, the most swollen. (after severe crying)

But aside from that obvious fact, those eyes are paired with hearts that feel the most,  deeply and wholly.

Crying is the language of the hurt, confused, broken, betrayed, and grieving.
They express more than words could do for them when they weep, mourn, and sob.

To some, crying is a weakness, an immaturity, a lack of of rationality.
        They are the insensitive race.
To some, crying is the only resort, a habit, an entire day's toil.
        They are the long-born infants.

To me, the true brave and strong cry.
       
To them, crying is a seasonal or the last blow of pain,
and the first step to being brave and strong.

WE can

This is both in my attempt to keep my blog account and writing from rusting. Pardon the “disorganization” of ideas. The writer is in the state of adjustment from being AWOL in her craft.

 

The best solution for a person who solely trusts his feeble, limited self is to give up.

And these past few days, weeks, my motto in life was: Give up.

 

I was brought to a chapter in my life wherein I fully understood what it meant when people say they don’t understand a thing in what’s happening in their lives.

Trust was not tangible for me, neither to grope for a Word from Him, for not only I, but even my devotion life was being repaired.

 

Times like these when you don’t have the will to do right and perform the best, when no strength from within you empowers you to strive, when all means within you-heart, mind, body are exhausted to no avail---- He shouts “It is I, Here am I” and you are no longer deaf not to hear it.

 

Self-sufficiency makes you deaf of His plea for true dependence on Him. It is only when you realize you can do absolutely nothing, you can truly rely on His saving, enabling power.

 

The Lord gave me the shortest, most striking message, that over again, resounds my ear. “It is I, Here am I.”

 

“It is I who will do the change in you, It is I who will save you from the things you can never save yourself from. It is I who is in control of your situation and life. Here am I, I am at work. Here am I, watching over you. It is I—who will be your strength, wisdom, encouragement, joy, love, and peace. It is I, your Everything. Here am I.”

But to know that He shouts “It is I” and to be fully aware that you can do nothing on your own should not equate to self-depreciation. It instead renews our minds of His promises and the beauty of a God-handled life; and it also reaffirms our worth and significance as victorious, favoured conquerors of the King.

And when He continually says “It is I”, I responded to Him that “Lord, WE can do this…”

I have HEARD and KNOWN these things perfectly well before. But these days, the greatest privilege I have as His child is to concretely behold these like a newfound treasure--- which I could perceive in thoughts but never caress with my own hands.

 

Indeed, He lets me believe in my heart, that I am becoming more and more like Him. I am knowing Him like never before. I am experiencing Him like never before. My relationship with Him is being transformed like never before!

 

Isaiah 52:6 “Therefore, my people shall know my name. Therefore, in that day they shall know that it is I who speak, here am I.”

“…while He has chosen a feeble instrument to perform a great task, He will, from the boundless stores of His providence supply the inadequacy of the means to the end. It is the Rock of Ages [you are asked] to lean on: do not doubt it will bear the weight of your human weakness.” p.398. Charlotte Bronte- Jane Eyre.

For the time being

Now, my heart speaks.

 

I saw and recognize you in the faintest of light.

Your features were dearly known to my memory,

And have registered alarm in my heart upon any sight of it.

 

How farther than the moon you seemed

Among the strangers before you, I was one.

 

Stare.

No I was but the air.

Words.

No nothing was spoken.

 

Silence and inaction were the active weapons

To crush me within

-emooomo!

----

Jane Eyre, the present object of my admiration and endearment in thoughts and in character (of course in the brilliant narration and depiction of Charlotte Bronte) has beautifully put into words what my heart was in dire need of.

“It is madness in all women to let a secret love kindle within them, which if unreturned and unknown, must devour the life that feeds it.” (Bronte C., 1847)

“don’t make him the object of your fine feelings, your raptures, agonies and so forth… be too self-respecting to lavish the love of the whole heart, soul and strength, where such a gift is not wanted and would be despised.” (Bronte C., 1847)

 

First, I DISOWN the idea that I am inlove. I am not. In fact, I only know now of God’s love and my love for family and friends. Love, (romantic to be particular) to me, is too complex, indefinite at the moment. I don’t bother deciphering it now.

Second, the word “Love” in Bronte’s words can be replaced by the word “Liking” to best suit the need of my heart.

Third, the emooo poem, may have spoken it all. For the time being, heartache looms before me.

Fourth, I am in awe how these heartbreak issues toughen the maturity of my heart, deepen His role as to solely satisfy my soul, and draw me closest to His love.

 

Lastly, whatever this is, it’s only for the time being.

*The posting of this entry pushed through because the heart ache was raised to the 2^nd power....today... for the time being.

An inspiration and instrument of God

This post is my 1st blog entry for my account this school year. And this one’s one of the hardest to put into writing. I feel like the complexity of what I’m feeling and experiencing made words unfit or hard to put together to convey the message I wish to share. (What a dilemma for a writer!)

Yet thankfully, one person inspired me yesterday. She seemed to have given me a paper with the outline of what I needed to write.

The person adding up to my list of inspirations is Patty. You do not know her, do you? Let me introduce this amazing person to you. Patty was a classmate of mine last school year, but now she isn’t anymore because she was granted as a Global Exchange student to study in America (North Carolina to be exact) and she’ll be leaving this August.

(Here's a photo of her:)

I am not inspired by the mere fact that she was granted the Fulbright scholarship, but I am “inspired to tears” about HOW she got there.

She shared her experiences as an English Major during “e-merge”: in our General Assembly. And I tell you, when she gave me a note during our class activity that read: “You remind me of gravity.” I am pretty sure while listening to her speech that the note was rather meant for her.

I did not see someone up on stage, bragging about the scholarship hundreds of people applied for, saying “I received this because I am good. I have all the skills and intelligence in the world to qualify for this.”

Rather, I saw someone who shared how she seemed unfit in the beginning for that kind of scholarship. She shared how she cried during her interview for our majorship. She shared how she could not even recite in classroom discussions unless she has memorized what she’ll say. I can never take this against her as a way of revealing her weaknesses. No, through this she has shown all English majors and professors what her greatest strength was: humility. And this mark of humility keeps me crying until now.

And as her classmate and friend, I know that the advice she gave in her speech to “Give your best” did not remain a cliché, it possessed grander impact, for from her life, “best” is truly displayed in every single thing she does.

She retold her experience during the interview for the Fulbright scholarship and it was an exact opposite of her interview for our majorship. She said that she was able to confidently answer all the questions raised. I am in no doubt that she has grown so much because of her humility and hard work.

Through Patty, I felt God consoled my heart. The message my heart was longing for, He impressed to me through her.

And what was I going through? Why did I need comfort?

One: This statement was all that I could write yesterday as I attempted to write: There has to be some way to put up with expectations that are seemingly too ideal.

                Simply put, discouragement has its subtle way of attacking me these days. Giving God all the glory through doing good in my studies was something I boldly, emotionally written for the youth blog. But I feel like I have set my hopes and expectancy too high. I feel like I could not attain it. I feel like I do not glorify God at all, for I seem to be an ordinary student. The distinction between God’s students and the world’s I could not let others see.

Two: What a professor told me when I was being interviewed for Literature majorship way back when I was a freshman, lingers on my mind: “You’re pitifully shy, how can you become a teacher?”

            This Junior year makes me realize the weight of how much needs to be broken in me to make me a full-grown teacher. Endless demonstration teaching would equal to countless times spent speaking in public. It would mean the need of a louder voice than my loudest. It would mean leading not a number of kids but a whole class. It would mean forever stepping out of my comfort zone. And it actually freaks me out right now. Questioning God if teaching is really the profession He wills for me--- has passed through my mind more than once.

The exact words of how to deal with these things did not came from Patty’s speech. But she is the reason, the instrument God used for my realizations.

One: I felt that she has her own share of feeling like she could not do something, or feeling like she could never attain something. I was inspired to know someone who felt this before, has surpassed this and now could do things and has attained something. Plus, who told me it is only by getting good grades in school that I will glorify my God? The Lord impressed upon me that when we fail and not remain as a failure, it is another way of glorifying Him.

Two: Patty gave me a different view on weaknesses. Somehow these weaknesses that we have are to be embraced. They can be celebratory after all. Her admission of weaknesses made God the strong deliverer in her life. This humility turned our eyes from herself to the work God has done in her life. I am in tears to say that I’ll be grateful for who I am: the Abbie abounding in weaknesses because through this, people will see the great strength of my God and His work in my life. The verse: “For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Cor. 12:10) has never been this alive. Only, it could be exactly this version: “For when I am weak, then HE is strong.”

 

Patty, I know that God will always be with you and will surely bless you in the journey He has led you to. WCNEHTIATGFY. You can ask Esther the meaning of this one J

Daddy Lord, Truly, you “have established the beginning of every wonder.” (Caedmon) There’s no backing out in the dream profession You have planted in my heart.  ICNTYE. (I can never thank you enough =D) I love you J

Refining

All I was able to do when I last checked my Multiply account was change my theme and background.

Countless were my attempts to write. Countless were the times I didn’t succeed.

Deep were the longing and ache felt by the heart that could not achieve what it desired.

Desire. A cliché that I’ve used. Desire to write. Similar to cry.

“Apologies to the heart whose cry… desire… to write was never heeded, constantly ignored.”

Desire isn’t enough. A cry isn’t enough.

In my months of AWOL in writing, I believe God has taken my writing in a process of refining.

The question- “Why do I really write?” had been the brunt of what I was being dealt with.

In my deep thoughts I have come to realize that my motto “write to glorify God” can be my sugarcoat for “write to glorify myself”. Behind my “write to share” can be my hidden motive “write to show off”. The fulfillment of God’s purpose in my life through writing can be subtly replaced by the satisfying of my personal fulfillment.

God had given me a striking reminder at the time when I had no guts and inspiration to write again:

            “Abbie, if you can’t and you don’t have any other reason to do it, let Me be your reason to write again. Let Me be your wisdom to write again. You’re living for me. All for my glory.”

But God would never send an angel to drag me from bed, get me a pen and paper, and miraculously trigger me to write my thoughts.

I remember that Sunday morning, when I opened my eyes and heard Charles Stanley say “Discipline not desire determines your destiny” in a TY program.

Desire isn’t enough.

“The desire to write isn’t enough. You got to discipline yourself to do it!” – I’ve highlighted it on my journal.

This isn’t new to me. “I go with the currents of feeling like writing and have not yet gone against the tide of persistently choosing to write as my commitment.”

            I wrote this last year. And surely, God gives remedial tests for lessons we fail to learn! That’s why it’s called a process. The dealing is continuous.

            And another tough call from God is to “live by what you write”.

            I am pro at writing a lot of things and failing to apply them in my life.

BOOOOOOO. That maybe one hurting reason my writing was long halted.

            The Lord is taking me from the IDEAL that I am to being the REAL he wants me to be. (btw, I’m itching to write about the REAL camp:))))

            He wills that these thoughts I put into writing correspond with what people see in my life. That alone will measure up for a truer impact.

            From  the depths of my reason to write, to the mechanism of how I continue to write (that is, by discipline) up to the impact of my writing (living by what I write) - I stand amazed at how God orchestrates this process of refining.

Mahaba. I. No. To me.

February 18, 2012. It’s like the typical exam day you want to “get over and done with”. The process? By means of fast forward in time. If only time machine was readily available (and indeed existing) to let you travel to the 19^th of February 2012, when MINT is over and you can’t help but congratulate yourself that you have gone through it alive.

That was how I dreaded the Manila INTervarsity. I imagined Jurassic predators a.k.a “debaters” from prestigious Universities such as Ateneo, UP (Diliman, LB, Manila), La Salle, UST and “what have you”.

When the plenary room was jam-packed, I smelled blood and dread altogether. There were traces of pride and haughtiness around the corners: the tendencies of overly intelligent and analytical people to fail in maintaining the normal size of their heads.

For me: PNU A: Kuya Marco, Andrea, Ate Mae, PNU B: Mara, Pat, Kat, PNU C: Ate Eme, Korn, Ate Ionah and PNU Adjudicators: Ate Lyka, Wilcel and Mary Anicete (as printed in the name plate) were seemingly tame animals in the back row, yet to be wild. Looks after all, can really be deceiving.

The organizers announced the new Adjudication system: Every adjudicator will be given 5 minutes to deliver his/her  adjudication and the debaters will rate him/her. This is in contrast to last year wherein the panel were graded by the Chief Adjudicator who was the only one to deliver the adjudication and be graded by the debaters. Spell nerve-racking!

There were 4 rounds for predation, I mean debate. Prep time was 30 minutes. Motions of opposing teams were determined through veto. Room assignments and Adj allocations were projected on the screen.

As I try to remember the events, the rounds, I seem to relive the feelings of fear, pressure and discomfort. These are my very feelings while listening to the debaters and preparing for my 1^st adjudication for the opposing teams of UP Manila and DLSU. Like a child, I was desperate to call on my Father, but unlike a child, I had to stop myself from crying and had to carry on with my life. Throughout the rounds, I have witnessed “head-on” debates (leaning to above average), great debaters and adjudicators far, far, far, far, far, far, better than I am.

Intimidated. Inferior. Inadequate. Incapable. I – meant all these four. It is the initial feeling of an individual whose character is being crushed. Yes, I did pray, did ask for others to pray for me, but God’s answer to my want for success is NO. NO

The day dragged on. I was happy we survived. Even happier that for the 1^st time, the fruit of Sir Ali’s and the Alumni’s labor has finally been ready for harvest. One of our teams (PNU A) was able to break for the 2^nd day of MINT.

And ONE Adj was able to adjudicate up to the semi-finals.

Boom. Pride crushed.

Lord, how could you let me go through this? Why? Why?

The initial reaction of a child not given what she wanted and instead left crying in a corner.

The Adj that was able to “break” is my friend. She’s just like me, A sophomore. A new trainee. A 1^st timer in MINT.

This fact that she CAN and I CAN’T heightened my inferiority. Yes, who am I to compare, but this is human nature. Or should I say, this is a character of mine sealed in my subconscious.

My bus travel after MINT was falling asleep after crying rivers of tears.

Literally, I felt my heart broken. I felt that I wanted the bus to take the route of eternity or of vanishing. I wanted to die. NO, I felt dead. It was worse than any heart break caused by stupid love.

This- is my character. It’s me. It’s who I AM that’s being crushed down. My whole being. Not a lone part of me nor of my heart.

But before I make this “come-back entry” a tragic account of my brokenness and EMOting, let me speed up the happy ending.

The best way I could relay the sum of insights God gave me (or insisted on giving me) is through sharing the letter I asked of Him that Sunday night when I didn’t know what to do. I asked of Him to speak to me as I wrote in my journal:

Dear Abbie,

                I love you deeply.

                I willed this painful phase of your life because you need it. Yes it is for my glory. But this glory is when you experience Me in a deeper level, grow in your faith and knowledge of Me.

                When you are weeping, I am weeping even more.

                I am troubled to see you sad, but this sadness will turn out for good. For your greater happiness. For your fruition and growth.

                Thank you for trying to listen to me though your emotions try to get in the way.

                You are in a state of death but I am the Resurrection and Life. I am your Victory and Hope.

                The things that this world values are incomparable to the glory of the Father.

                I knew all along this would happen. I got your back.

                MINT didn’t break you. I am breaking you to make you.

                To let you know I am your God.

                I am sufficiency, confidence, I AM.

                I am humbling you. I am humbling you.

                I will exalt you at the proper time.

                For now, rest in my care, at the foot of My throne, receive my covering, love and comfort.

                I will comfort you Abbie.

                WE will get through this, Child.

                                                                                                                                                                                -God.

                The river of tears, too, passed.

                The brokenness, worth enduring, when you’re closest to Him.

 

To XY Chromosomal Creatures

December 6,2011

It isn’t Valentine’s day nor Hearts day. The supposed to be celebrated season is the fast-approaching Christmas time. But I found myself looking at a pink rose, and a mysterious letter.

The pink rose came from an identified XY Chromosomal Creature (he had his name on it) and the mysterious letter was found void. It was no serious business of an aspiring Romeo, rather, it was but a joke.

 

I did not write to rant about not receiving a blue rose. (In fact, I secretly hoped I just did not because I felt everyone’s eyes on me when I was walking along the streets holding it) And I would not even express my disappointment about the people who were about to make me believe a mysterious person found time writing me a letter.

 

I would like to voice out what many other XX Chromosomal Creatures might be dying to express. Some words I’ve been repressing to blog about these past few days and weeks that had passed.

To XY Chromosomal Creatures,

Unlikely gift. Looking past the outward appearance is a very rare, unlikely gift you can possess. Admiring a lady for her mere beauty, is  but the lowest standard you can have.

Girls are to be admired because of their hearts not because of their FACES.

It is extremely disappointing when we saw each other for the first time and before I knew it you like me.

I have learned this the hard way- texting is NOT the way to a girl’s heart. Neither it is the way for friendship. For superficial interaction it is.

The real gauge of courage is how brave you are to talk to her personally.

INSTANT text messaging or messages through social networks are also the fastest way to prove your cowardice and spoil every bit of sincerity.

You have all the right to court girls when you have the money to treat her and buy her gifts from YOUR OWN salary. Don’t go robbing your parents’ wallets.

There is a great distinction between toys and girls. Just because you no longer play with the former doesn’t give you the license to play with the latter.

You protect us best when you keep your mouth shut about how you feel. Don’t act as if  Shakespeare has reincarnated himself in you.

If you’re lost in thoughts, thinking if you’re in love or what, I tell you, you are NOT, it’s just a sign that you have done nothing lately except for daydreaming.  

High school, college, including grade school boys, NOW is just not the time to pursue and win a girl’s heart – the fragile of most fragile organs.

I might have been so rough on this and I might have even spoke of  entirely my own ideals. If in some ways I have offended you,  please do pardon me.

But I know you also have lessons to give us girls. (Probably some of which I’ve stated above are also meant for us) So you can get even with us with all due righteousness.

                                    Guys, boys, men, XY Chromosomal Creatures, or however you want to be called, now is just NOT THE TIME.

“… that you not stir up or awaken love until it pleases.” Song of Songs 2:7