The Love I Can’t Force — and the One I Can

I said I’d never be that girl — the young adult Catholic woman who falls for someone in her church group, only to realize the feelings weren’t mutual. Or maybe they were, but for whatever reason, he decided not to pursue them.

At first, I was disgusted with myself, chiding my adult crush as pathetic and silly. But honestly, how could I not fall for the handsome guy who spoke so passionately about the Faith and dreamed of an authentic Catholic family? The deep brown eyes and sharp jawline didn’t help either.

The sting of rejection left behind that unmistakable ache — the bitter taste of what could have been but will never be. I replayed our every interaction, dissecting conversations and moments that felt electric, savoring the memory of laughter over beers and the glances my intuition told me we were more than "just friends."

Too much time passed and no moves were made. Previous failed relationships had taught me well. I dropped my metaphorical handkerchief more than once, only to watch it trampled by the careless footsteps of a man unwilling to love me the way I longed for.

For weeks, Bon Iver became the soundtrack to my heartbreak. You probably know the song I’m talking about, and if you don’t, take note — the piano ballad cover of “I Can’t Make You Love Me” is a tried and true companion for every post-romantic disappointment.

"Jesus awaits you." these are the words written above the entrance to the chapel close to my apartment.

But after months of cycling through the same sad melody, I’d had enough. I took a walk to my local chapel and sat before the Lord. It wasn’t the first time I’d brought this to Him — but it took months for me to fully open up.

I entered prayer swinging (figuratively, of course). “Men are the worst… and Catholic men are the worst of all!” I ranted, recounting the story once again, alongside grievances from ex-boyfriends past.

When my words finally ran dry, I lifted my eyes to Jesus, exposed on the altar. We stared at each other for a long time until I couldn’t take it anymore and hung my head in defeat.

Tears fell. I wiped them (along with some snot) on my sweatshirt, tucked my hair behind my ears, and looked back up.

“Lord… I just want to love someone. I’m tired. I’m tired of giving and getting nothing in return. I just want to be free to love and be loved. I can’t make him love me. Why won’t he?”

Jesus didn’t say anything, but memories began to flicker through my mind like a movie. I saw the faces of my best friends, my parish community, acquaintances, even strangers I passed during my daily commute.

The reel spun faster and faster until their faces blurred — and from the crowd, His face emerged.

It was Jesus.

His gaze was calm but piercing. Kind, yet serious.

Then, He spoke:

“I can’t make you love me.”

I sat frozen, confused. His words echoed back to me, strangely familiar. As the reel of faces continued, Mother Teresa’s words stirred in my heart:

“Every person is Jesus in disguise.”

Disappointment and disillusionment are the enemy’s favorite tools. They build walls around our hearts, isolating us and convincing us that we are either unlovable or destined to settle for less than we deserve.

The lie creeps in quietly — if I can’t love in the way I desire, maybe I can’t love at all.

It feels cheap to tell the broken-hearted to focus on how they can love instead of how they cannot. When your heart is raw, the easiest thing to do is armor up and withdraw. But even though wounds come through relationships, I’ve found that healing does, too. True courage is choosing to live from the heart — even when it hurts. And here’s the beautiful thing — all the love I had stored up for the man I thought might be the one didn’t have to go to waste.

That love could be poured out every day. In my community. In the smile of a stranger. In conversations over coffee. In the quiet presence of a friend. And ultimately, in Jesus — the One I was made to love first. When I see Him in those around me, the soil of my heart is tilled, prepared for the day God reveals the man He has chosen for me.

I cannot force anyone to love me. But no one can stop me from loving. My heart is a gift — a powerful force to be reckoned. In the wake of disappointment, I choose to love anyway, trusting that the true man of my dreams is already present… hidden in the people around me, waiting to be found.

This post was originally published for Radiant magazine, an online publication of Our Sunday Visitor. Since Radiant is no longer actively publishing, contributors have been invited to share their articles on other platforms.