Letters to Luthien

Letters to My Future Bride

Letter 127: Walls

Why do we build walls?

To protect ourselves. To keep people out, to keep ourselves in.

For privacy.

To see who cares enough to climb them.

I find myself contemplating the idea of walls around the heart tonight as I review in my mind the many people I have reached out to and tried to help…and how almost none of them reciprocate in any meaningful way. I went out on a few days with one young lady, and realized all she could do is talk about herself. Which was not a bad thing, I am glad I could make her feel valued by listening. Listening is one of the things I do best. But where does the proactive initiative of returned interest and inquiry come in?

Maybe I’ve given everyone too good of an impression I have it all together. I’m always there for my friends. They’re almost never there for me.

But don’t be misled; I’ve always felt this way. I know because I was reviewing some of my old letters and found this one from August 2009:

My dear bride,

I am short on profound words to open these letters. I am short on patience and short on endurance. Simply put, I am weary…so very weary. I am concerned about how frequently these times of darkness creep upon me. You see now that the most recent was but a couple of weeks ago. It comes again … There are times I feel like the last of my kind, or nearly. I have fallen in my appointed path many times, but with God’s grace and forgiveness I stand to continue in it, a path of respecting women and aspiring to wait for you, and be waited for by you.

I am reminded by thoughts, songs, books, examples in television and movies, and in true observation that a woman can actually love a man as deeply as he loves her. I’ve said before, I genuinely have difficulty grasping that concept. I try to be worthy of you, and continue to better myself for you. But can I look myself in the mirror and think that someone (outside of the family and not bound by family ties) would love me enough to journey through the rest of life with me? To ease my pain and worries, to put me and my needs above hers? To serve me with equal enthusiasm as I would seek to serve her? To love me enough to risk her life for me, or at the uttermost of need, love me enough to seek death by my side? Impossible! That is the mystery that makes whispers of love seem so wonderful as to be alien. I think I might content with a wonderful woman who will simply let me love her, and who may return some of my affections, only as I give them.

I know that in the midst of this darkness, I feel hopeless that such a person would ever exist and find me worthy. I know also that in the midst of such darkness, I am separated from the outside world by only a thin barrier of pleasantries, and that anyone actually making attempts to know more about me would have to be extremely motivated to overcome the barriers and find me inside of myself.

But I grow so tired of being alone. Tired of bearing my weary burdens of life by myself. I am tired of speaking my thoughts and prayers only to the wind, walking silent and lonesome down the driveway, thinking and sometimes singing quietly. One moon-cast shadow glides along the ground in front of me. Why can’t it be two? One heart and half a soul accompany me. Why can’t it be two? Why can’t God grant me the companionship of anyone who cares of my well-being enough to ask? Are people really that selfish, or have I deceived myself in thinking I have shown compassion to so many? 

Forgive me once again if my morose ramblings burden you unnecessarily. I feel the weight of these thoughts and the need to share them, and to whom can I share them except you, my one true love? Consider them a testament of my love even now.

I closed that letter by saying “My wounded faith continues to trust, but that does not diminish the hunger.”

And then I close as I always close those letters:

Love always,

February 8, 2012 Posted by | Loneliness | 1 Comment