“I put my trust in you.” It means that I have given you a part of me, a part of my heart. This gift of trust is unconditional, and like my love, comes with no strings attached.

To keep my trust, you need do nothing. To put conditions on my trust would make it not a gift but a contract in which I seek to bind you to my will and to my beliefs in what type of person you must be to be worthy of my trust.

I know there are those whose trust is conditional, that require of you certain acts and deeds. If you fail to meet their standards (which may shift and change with the sands of time), you lose their trust, for they take it back, having never truly given it to you.

To me, trust goes beyond behavior, beyond personality, and beyond the commitments we share between us. Trust to me is my deepest expression of love. It is the seed that is a part of my spirit that I plant in your heart.

Like all seeds, it may grow, or it may whither. You are the gardener of your own heart, and the seed of trust I give to you is yours—to nurture, to protect, and to watch blossom—if that is your wish.

What grows from that seed can never die. Yes, it may whither from neglect, or it may grow strong and tall only to be chopped down by you in a single blow. Those are your choices.

My choice is to live on as a part of you. The seed of trust I give is not a flower that blooms once and then dies to return no more. That is not the way I choose to be.

You see, I believe in you. I believe in the core goodness of your spirit. I believe that to find a home in your heart will enhance my life. And I believe in your struggle, a struggle we all share, to find out who you are and why you are here, and to discover the glory of the Universe that exists within your being.

Yet, I know that there may be times when you do not tend to the garden in your heart. You may lose your way. But I give my trust to you knowing full well of your humanity, that like me you will stumble and fall along the path of life.

When this happens, I will feel pain. It is the price I am willing of my own free will to pay to be a part of you. If my trust is a casualty in your search to find your true Self, then so be it. I do not wish my trust to limit you or keep you from learning the lessons of this life on Earth.

I only ask that you remember that my trust is eternal, and if you cast it from your heart or neglect its needs, it will remain unhealed and in pain… forever… until you choose to let it grow once more. Only when you take my trust back into your raw, open, fertile heart can it overcome the wounds it has received and sprout again. Until you do this, you leave a part of me in pain.

But I make you this promise. If you ever return my damaged trust back into your heart, I will let that part of me heal. I will not exact retribution by allowing my injured trust to fester and poison your unprotected heart.

For what I desire most is for my seed of trust to grow stout and strong in your heart, that it might provide a place to lean when you are tired, a place to find shade from the heat of life’s battles, and a place to find shelter from the cold and fury of life’s storms. If you honor my gift by tending it so well, we will both benefit from its strength.

You may ask how best to grow this seed of trust. That I cannot answer, for I, too, am searching for directions. I can only offer as advice—from one novice gardener to another—what I have found so far.

Tend first to the needs of your heart. Within it you will find happiness, joy, love, and peace. Amidst its quiet serenity, you will hear the voice of God directing you on your journey and in the tending of your garden. In this, as in you, I trust.

Into your heart
I place a part of me,
not all of me.
To give all of me would
strip me of the responsibility
to live my own life.

Yet that part of me
I share with you,
is sacred.
It is unlike the part of me
I will ever share
with any other.

It is my gift to you.
It is part of my spirit,
my very essence,
and it is now yours,
forever.

I call this gift
my Trust.

You need not keep my gift
inside your heart.
The gift is yours
to cherish or trash
as you see fit.

But if you choose
to cast my trust
from its home in your heart,
I ask only that you remember
that it is my sacred gift
you have chosen to evict.

For no matter how I try,
no matter how much that part of me
I give to you
aches from the harshness
of its abandonment,
I cannot succor it.

The gift of my trust
is yours forever,
and only you
can give it a home once more.

I cannot give you more of me
to replace that which you misplace.
But I know
if you will only listen,
you will hear the mournful cry
of my gift of trust.

And if the sadness of its song
is not too much to bear,
it will lead you back
to the part of me
that is yours forever.

My trust has but one true home—
inside your heart.
You cannot wear it on your arm,
or fit it in your wallet.
To heal its pain
and quiet its cry,
you must take it into your heart
where your soul is raw
and unprotected.
Only then will it see
that it is back home again.

I walk before you now
a humbled man.
Already unmasked,
I am at your mercy
and God’s.

It’s too early to put flowers
on the still open grave
I have dug at your feet.
We have not yet decided
what it is we choose to bury.

Will it be me?
Or the friendship I cherish more.
The pit beckons,
yawns, and waits.

Is there not something else,
a burden neither of us needs
we can offer to fill this hole?

Pain, fear, and doubts.
We hold to them like ancient toys—
battered, broken, ours.
Might we toss them in?

I have so much junk
I’d like to shed.
Don’t you?

Why must we fill this void,
this graveyard in our hearts,
with the most precious gifts
we’ve given each other—
our trust, our friendship,
our love.

Can they not be spared…
somehow?

I pray,
while the pit beckons,
yawns, and waits.

One day I happened upon a bird—
A bird with a most lovely song of life and joy.
I asked the bird to come sing for me each day,
That I might be reminded to rejoice in life.

For several years
The bird did just that.
On days when she was absent,
I felt the difference her song made in my day.

Now, she is to leave my daily life,
Called by God and circumstance
To sing on new window sills—
To delight the hearts of others.

I honor her now,
And bid her farewell.
As she leaves I realize
The fullness of her blessings.
For she has helped to teach me
How to sing.

When you most need a friend

but there is no one around,

close your eyes

and feel me holding your hand,

and I will be.