Some might call it happiness. Some might call it craziness. Some might call it love. Me? I call it Jesus. When I receive Him in the Eucharist on Sundays, when I'm blessed with His forgiveness after Reconciliation, and sometimes just at the mere thought of His beautiful face.
I can see His dark eyes gazing into my own, piercing down lovingly into the very depths of my soul. I can see the blood seeping out of the wounds caused by the the crown of thorns that has been pressed onto His head, the red drops making their way down His face. I can see the mouth that has spoken of His perfect love for me. I can hear it's laughter that has joined mine as I laugh at my own girlish silliness. I can feel the embrace as He wraps His strong arms around my small form, holding me until all my fears and sadness leave me. My skin tingles as the scars brush against my cheek when He wipes my tears away. I can hear His deep voice whispering into my hair, telling me not to be afraid:
"My little lamb, I love you more than you can possibly imagine. I am here. Always. I am your Shepherd. When you stray, I will find you and lead you back to safety. I will protect you against the evils that the Wolf might try to bring to you. I will be with you in stormy weather. I will be your friend when you are lonely. I will listen when you need to talk. I will give you strength when you feel as if you're too weak to go on. I will be here. You are My little lamb, and I won't let you go."
He's my best friend.
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