Sunday is the ever so weekly reminder that the work week has returned and I’m being drawn away from what I most want to be doing.
It’s Sunday night again. If you were here, our lazy day of rest would turn into a relaxed evening as we cook together. We would turn on the music and talk our way through our plans for the week.
You are the calm to my storm. You are my deep breath. Sunday night if you were here, your larger than life presence filling up this small space, I would think twice as I watch you washing dishes, about complaining that Monday is on our heels.
It has taken us so long to get to this moment. I don’t want to take a single second for granted. In the mundane of this every day moment, while you wash dishes, and I finish making our meal, I am reminded that this is everything I’ve ever wanted as quiet and normal as it is.
Sunday night if you were here, you would be another reminder of how the days and weeks conspire, with God’s hand on it all, to bring us exactly where we are meant to be, at exactly the right moment in time.
It is summer. Eastern Carolina is a sight to behold in the summer, even more so on the coast where the air is like a sultry, sexy Flamenco. It just seeps way down deep into your bones. The light in the early evening is like this living thing. It almost breathes. Deep. It wraps me up – safe and content.
He, the beautiful man of the hard way, is a challenge I am sometimes convinced I can’t meet. Even after all these years. Today, in a quiet moment in the midst of a busy day, I thought about the way his eyes hold mine. There has been fire and light for me in his eyes – for me, for as long as I can remember. Me. His fierceness lights me from the inside out with just one look. In the middle of an everyday moment, I look up to see his eyes on me. And there in that moment when I’m nothing special on my own and living in the mundane, I am all there is in his eyes. I am the only one in a room filled with people.
And then as quickly as he is fierce and passion, strength and fire, he is vulnerable. His tenderness for me still churns my insides like it did from the beginning. In those moments, I think I love him more than I knew was possible. On nights like these when the lightening bugs pop and flash in the approaching night, as we sit quietly on the porch, I’m overwhelmed by the beauty of it all. There is stillness and quiet between us just like it used to be in the beginning, when he said all he needed to without a word spoken. The heat surrounds us in spite of the encroaching darkness. The rising moon isn’t bringing relief from the swelter.
But somehow, in spite of the sweat that trickles, and the air thick, all I can think about is the way fire and heat burn off the dross. We have been tried and tested in the fire. In the quiet, he reaches over and takes my hand in his. Ten years and a handful of days after the first time he did that very thing, it lights me up inside. Still. I close my eyes, lay my head back, and breathe deeply of the contentment that comes from loving him above myself – even when we do it the hard way. Even when we are tested in the fire.
For the longest time, I tried to make excuses. I figured that there had to be more.
Why? Because nothing made sense. I lived everyday with this confusion hanging over my head and the belief that somehow, somewhere this would all make sense.
But I’m tired of making excuses and I’m tired of trying to make sense of that which will never make sense.
The man I need in my life is allin. He chases me down and won’t let go. The man I need in my life is careful with my heart and doesn’t run over it.
The man I need in my life won’t lie to me or hide the truth from me. The man I need in my life will cherish me. The man I need in my life won’t continually hurt my heart, even after I’ve asked for a reprieve.
Relationships aren’t easy. Marriage will take work. I am a romantic at heart but I know it won’t always be easy. And there will be days and weeks when choosing agape love for my husband will be hard – when the romance and feelings wane.
But, even still, there are some basics I can’t and won’t compromise on. I made excuses for so long. I can’t make them anymore.
The man who will choose me, will choose a woman who will love him unconditionally, fiercely, and find new ways to build him up when he feels knocked down.
I know what I bring to the table. So I’m tired of making excuses and chasing down any man that’s not allin for me. The one who is, will never regret that. But until he’s all in, he’s not the one I’ve waited and prayed for, for so long.
Still somewhere choosing your words carefully, I presume?
There’s a hole here in this big house. It feels even bigger than normal.
There are things I’d like to do with you.
I’d like to cook an extravagant dinner with you, music playing, and candles burning.
I’d like to argue debate pointless & meaningless things with you because you make me laugh when you’re trying to be right & stick to a point for no reason.
I’d like us to unwind from a long day on the back porch, drinks in our hands, and a fire burning in the fire pit.
I’d like to raise some kids with you.
I’d like to find new ways to find each other, when the romance wanes and life gets hard.
I’d like to feel safe with you.
I’d like to curl up next to you, in our big bed – settling in beside you – the only person I want to share a bed with, for the rest of my life.
I’d like to camp with you, beside the ocean or in the mountains. I grew up doing this and there is nothing better than to wake up on a cool summer morning, the scent of our campfire still clinging to the air.
I’d like to make you laugh for the rest of my life. Or at least until I turn into a senile old lady (haha). But more important, I want to laugh with you. It’s the way we will get through.
There’s a prayer I’m praying right now. It’s really the same thing over and over. I am praying for you. I’m praying we can somehow get past this wall that appears to be in front of us now.
I pray nothing will stand in our way.
I pray you’ll find me, see me, run and never tire. Desire is one of my favorite Ryan Adams songs. It has been for a handful of years. But somehow it’s a good one for right now.
Two hearts fading, like a flower.
And all this waiting, for the power.
For some answer, to this fire.
The water as higher.
I am 100% convinced that amazing things are ahead for us and for our patchwork family. But floating around the edges of those days when my faith is strong, are so many moments when the fear is greater.
This weekend, as I miss you and worry I’ll keep right on missing you, the fear and faith have mixed. Equal amounts of both. One minute I’m certain. The next, I’m dreading a life without you in it.
I’m working on a novel. It’s a love story. It’s our love story. The one that hasn’t happened yet. This too, like my prayers for you – and for us, takes more faith than I have some moments.
But the man I know you are (and are becoming) makes the risk worth every moment of fear in the midst of all this waiting.
I’m going to keep praying big prayers, Baby.
“Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us…” Ephesians 3:20
Brushing a girl’s hair
behind her ear
once a day
will solve more problems
than all those
I’m writing a love story. I thought I was stuck. Last weekend, I thought I’d never get past this mess of my own heart. The pieces still broken – fearing hope.
But the story lay hidden beneath the fear – the fear living closer to the surface.
Something changed yesterday though. I’m writing the story. I found the words. I found what I needed through a quiet challenge from God in the middle of my CPR/First Aid class – have faith. Someday maybe I’ll explain that in detail.
But for now, the love story I most want to write, is being written.
There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you. – Maya Angelou
This love I have wanted to write about? It’s the kind of love that is rooted in friendship. It’s the kind of love that gives you a vision of your future in someone else’s eyes. It’s the kind of love that ignites your belief in another’s gifts and talents far beyond what they even see for themselves.
It’s the kind of love that is passion and fire but comfort and normal. It’s the kind of love that brings a sense of calm in the midst of trial, when he brushes your hair behind your ear – his tenderness toward you is all you need. Or maybe how with one look, he knows what you need before you even speak. And above all else, it’s the kind of love shared by two broken people that didn’t fit anywhere else.
It’s the kind of love you do the hard way.
So I guess we’ll have to do it the hard way. – Keith Urban
I’m responding in faith in a lot of areas right now, my writing is no different. This is the story I most want to write.