The other day Philip was holding me while we talked about my issues, yet again. I'm going through a bit of a rough patch. Struggling to trust God, seeking healing of past wounds, on the edge of a breakthrough but not quite there yet. He listened to me well. He empathized with me. And he gave me wise advice. Philip might be the wisest sage I know. But my favorite part about that conversation was when Philip said, "I could die right now." I know, morbid, right? He clarified, "I mean I would be okay with dying right now because I'm so happy." There I was, mascara and snot down my face, processing through my brokenness and he felt affection for me. 
Let me give you another example. This summer Phil went on a summer project to Ocean City, Maryland. Since there were 20 girls on his team, it was bound to come up. They asked about our relationship and the mushy-gushy details of our story. They wanted to know what he first noticed about me. He might've said my ravishing beauty, uncanny charm, or perhaps my suave dance moves. However, he said something totally unexpected: that when I broke my arm at church camp he first noticed me in a I'm-sort-of-attracted-to-you kind of way. Leave it to Phil to find me attractive in my most unglamorous moment. The story of my broken arm lives infamously amongst Ross Point Campers who are old enough to remember it. Sometimes when I mention it people are like, "Oh, you're THAT girl." But for those who don't know, I didn't break my arm saving orphans from a burning building, or hiking an intense mountain, or anything exciting like that. I broke it playing 8-base: a version of kickball in which the walls are bases. I sprinted for the wall, then stopped myself by outstretching my arms. My puny arm just snapped. Now, I'd broken my arm before, so I wasn't impressed by the drama of the situation. Maybe Philip noticed how casually walked up to a counselor and mused, "I think my arm is broken." But at any rate, that's kind of an embarrassing story. Yet that is the moment that my now boyfriend (of 3 years and 9 months) first really noticed me.
I like the way Phil cares about me because it is real. He likes me at my best and at my worst. And that's love people, that's love. Authentic, genuine, close companionship. And the best part is, this is only a taste of the way God feels about me!
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