It feels incredibly vulnerable to share this, but deep down, in my heart of hearts, I want to feel treasured.
Not just loved (which I want, too), but treasured.
I’ve noticed for quite a while now that there’s been this niggling little ‘hole in my soul’ that just keeps drawing my attention. It felt like a very young part of me that craved something deep and nurturing. As I spoke with my coach about this craving, it began to come clearer.
When I spoke the word “treasured,” something inside me cracked open. “YES! That’s it! I want to be treasured.” The feeling was almost overwhelming.
Being the word freak that I am, I wanted to dig into the nuances of treasure, of being treasured and get into the truth about that deep longing.
To be treasured: To be regarded or treated as precious. To be held dear, cherished, cared for tenderly, to be nurtured. But there was more – treasured, to me, was also being encouraged, defended, safeguarded. Things I’d longed for.
As I tapped into this longing to be treasured, I got an image of me as a young child receiving loving attention, being held dear and as precious. Of feeling cared for and protected from harm. I flash back to how I felt about my son as a little boy. How I adored him and held him as the most precious thing in my life. I didn’t get that as a child. My parents, who were good people, didn’t have that to give to me when I was little and I wanted my son to have that experience.
I believe that love for my son was a gift from the Divine. Having the experience of treasuring someone else opened my eyes and my heart to the Love, actually for the first time.
Now, as an adult, I recognize I’m just not as precious to other human beings as I might have been at two or three. If I have a longing to be treasured at this point, the fulfillment of that desire will have to come through a different route.
So, this image of myself as a precious little girl is a gift. I can imagine pouring love to her and seeing her as an innocent, open child of God, loving her as I did my son. I’ve been reminded time and again that the amazing love I felt for my son is just the tiniest fraction of how much I am loved by the Divine.
As much as I am a very flawed human being, God loves me and treasures me as much as “He” would a three year old child. A child who delights with her innocence and childlike ways; a child who is loved and treasured despite her tantrums and willfulness.
As I take the time to allow the Love of God to pour into me, the hole in my soul is filled and nourished. And I know that I AM treasured.
Is there a hole in your soul? Do you have an inkling what’s being cried out for?