Crushes

I really wanted a cheeseburger while hiking today. I'm sure my body started this obsession because I gave up heavy meats for Lent and I was in the middle of the wilderness.

But then my mind wandered to shoving an entire McDonald's cheeseburger in my mouth in the second grade to impress Aaron Ramroth. I had a crush on him and surely this feat would woo him. 

That didn't work. Gagging and spewing food everywhere has never convinced a crush to like you.

I rewatched Pretty in Pink recently, with some horror, but the part that wasn't rapey was Molly Ringwald's dad telling her they are called crushes for a reason. 

There is something about that obsession with what we don't have that is crushing for the heart. This strange last year has made FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) even more intense and I've found hearts around me aching for otherness. 

How crushing it is to long for what one doesn't have, or what I often see in my office, a refusal to make decisions because it means you have to say no to some things. 

Martin Luther talks about a god as wherever we hang our heart. I like that. It feels open and freeing instead of crushing and confining. 

The question is where will we hang our hearts. On my better days, I let it hang in the eternal love I witness in Jesus. It's an opening and freeing space where I can make choices without being bound up with fear of regret or failure. The gift of love is that it sustains us through either. 

On my not so amazing days, I obsess over cheeseburgers.