Letters to Luthien

Letters to My Future Bride

All I Have to Give

“All of me, why not take all of me?
Can’t you see I’m no good without you?
Take my lips I wanna lose them
Take my arms I’ll never use them
Your goodbyes left me

with eyes that cry
How can I get along without you?
You took the part
that once was my heart
So why not take all of me?”
Michael Buble 

In case you haven’t noticed by now, I want to give you all of me.

Not the rest of me. Not me plus the pieces I gave to ten other girls. Not me plus the two or three girls that I slept with. Not me and the one girl I thought was the one, so I went ahead and cheated. Not me and the one moment of biological weakness, overcome by the heat of passion and raging chemistry.

Me. Just me. All of me, wholly and completely. All the skill and life and love and talent and memories and blessings I’ve been given, every lesson learned and every path traveled, every thought, every song, every letter. Since I can’t invest in you, or us, I’m investing in myself to make sure what you’re getting gets better every day.

I’ve tamed the beast of passion and subdued it for a time, the better to honor and cherish you upon your arrival.

And I don’t understand why the world despises me for it.

It’s almost as if the message is “don’t bother trying  to become better; the world will hate you and envy you for becoming better than them.” Don’t misunderstand, I don’t entertain thoughts of superiority. I’m a sinner, plain and simple. But I’m a sinner who, first of all is saved by grace, and second has decided to shoot for becoming a better person through prayer, through education, through study, through perseverance, through hard work. It’s like the athlete who added to his training a backpack full of rocks, and on the day of his race, he outperformed his jealous cohorts. Rather than rewarding hard work and effort, they cursed his ability and excused their lack, even though they could have done the same.

Can you imagine if you spent hours, days, years working to become something? Strong, funny, intelligent, resourceful, educated, equipped to provide, whichever…and someone says “not good enough!” and slaps your face? Few of us would be unmoved if we were to witness a child spending a week painstakingly drawing a picture for a beloved vacationing teacher, only to present it to her and have her tear it up because it wasn’t good enough.

That’s what it feels like. It’s difficult to see people reject me, or turn their nose up at my efforts, not just because they’re MY efforts but because they’re supposed to be for a woman seeking more than the average jerk. They represent something higher, something I don’t see very often. They represent a standard that I felt obligated to uphold because no one else does. I see men, countless men abdicating their God-given duties to be a husband, a father, a leader. I see them mistreating women, using them, abusing them, breaking their hearts. In response, I roll up my sleeves, set my jaw and determine to be the exact opposite — to get it right. To lead without dominating; to be courageous yet cautious, benevolent but not gullible; accommodating but not compromising; strong but not overbearing, gentle but firm, tender but not weak.

The joke’s on me, ha! Turns out women like the jerks they run with. They spurn the “good guys” in favor of the rush and thrill of a “bad boy” who domineers them (a false and distorted view of a man’s role to lead) and only after having their fun do they seek the man who isn’t corrupted.

Did you ever wonder why they call it “cheating”? It’s because man and woman were designed to be happy with one another, but only with one another, and only in the confines of marriage. To find that fulfillment any other place “cheats” the proper paths to the abundant pleasures God has created.

And they all cheat.

It’s almost despair enough to flush out those elusive tears of mine.

Oh Darling. I know it seems like I ask for much, but I can put up with so much in return…really I can. Do you have trust issues? Big deal. Were you abused as a child? Piece of cake. Former druggie? Nothing I can’t handle. Were you raped? Doesn’t make one bit of difference to me. Struggling with the weight? Hey, don’t we all. Crap like that I can fix — I can love you through it. I told you before…God gave me broad shoulders and thick armor for some of these struggles.

But I want all of you. I’m giving you all of me, can’t you do the same?

I’m all I have to give. I may not be much, but it’s the best I could possibly give.

It’s all I have.

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April 9, 2012 - Posted by | Loneliness, Purity

2 Comments »

  1. Identifying with the entirety of this letter… glad others are battling the spiritual front for our sisters.

    Comment by a.w. marks | April 9, 2012 | Reply

  2. […] You shouldn’t be allowed, you know. I gave you neither my heart nor permission to touch it, yet still it beats faster up in my chest when I see you. There should be a rule. Who do you think you are, scattering smiles and charms and scorning their admirers? Why should you so quickly hold in contempt a treasure I have spent a lifetime preparing? There are very few people to whom I would even consider inheriting this treasure, you know. Oh, don’t misunderstand, it’s not money, not all of it, though I do well enough for myself. It’s my heart. It’s these letters. It’s my affections, my attentions, my service. It’s…all I have to give. […]

    Pingback by To Friend-Zone « Letters to Luthien | August 27, 2012 | Reply


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