Letters to Luthien

Letters to My Future Bride

Strange and Sundry Thoughts

“I hear the ticking of the clock
I’m lying here, the room’s pitch dark 
I wonder where you are tonight
No answer on the telephone 
And the night goes by so very slow…
Oh I hope that it won’t end, though… 
– Heart 

Dear Darling,

It’s unseasonably chilly outdoors tonight. The moon’s light is reluctantly waning, and I had to grab a jacket to stay warm while walking, thinking many strange and sundry thoughts.

I’m thinking about you first off. About how I don’t know who you are and wishing I did. About how I wonder if you’re hiding behind the faces that walk in my waking world, and how much I need you to just come out and make yourself known. We’re wasting too much time not being in each other’s arms. I always knew I’d have to earn your love. I just didn’t think as much about how I wouldn’t know at first if yours was the love to earn.

I wonder if God must either give a man the gift of celibacy or the gift of a wife…and if it isn’t cruel to withhold them both.

I’m wondering if God has picked you out, wonderfully distinct and uniquely you, and it’s just a matter of time until He introduces us — or if, by some dread and horror, this is one of those “free will” things where He will allow ME to choose. I submit this to Him, the God who can see all ends, and ask Him to bring me the woman who will best help me serve Him, and who I can make happiest, and who can make me happiest. What a frightful thought to leave my future up to my own judgment!

I’m thinking about how people say I’m not as happy as I used to be. I wonder if I even know how to be happy or relax.

I’m thinking about how there’s a difference between who I aspire to be and who I enjoy being, and how I’m torn between those two and may never find a happy medium. The world bites. It’s a sad and grim place, full of crimes and consequences. I see the terrible decisions people make, and I internalize them. It hurts me, and it shouldn’t. It isolates me because I don’t act like that. It makes me grave and solemn and cross. It’s hard to be happy and I don’t know how to change that. They say you can’t expect a woman’s love to cure all your troubles, but being without you is the only thing that really makes me unhappy. I’m trying not to suppose that finding you will cure all woes.

I’m thinking of a woman (or two) who did not wait, and how we might have been married by now if they had. About how I can still feel conflicted feelings of attachment or attraction, and how it tears me up that I missed out on such a wonderful thing otherwise…and so did she. I’m wishing I’d had more time to at least experience the joy of a relationship before it ended.

I’m thinking about how I want so badly to yell and scream at the traitors who so eagerly renounce their vows and and leap into the waiting jaws of sin below. I’m angry with them for leaving me alone. I’m angry with them for disobeying. And I’m jealous that they have so much fun in the process. Proverbs 23 says “Do not let your heart envy sinners, but always be zealous for the fear of the Lord. There is surely a future hope for you, and your hope will not be cut off.” I’m trying to hold to that.

I’m thinking about how many girls have expressed interest in me that just haven’t seemed right, and how it’s fallen to me to tell them so.

I’m thinking about the people who literally look at me with wonder and awe — or like some kind of relic — when they find out I’m still waiting for my future bride. Several coworkers were amazed the other day. Again. They were all cooing that I was going on a date, and even asking me my thoughts on their relationship status, or whether or not I would take for a wife someone who had children already.

I think about our families, and that slow, awkward process of introducing them and seeing how they all get along…or don’t. How are we ever going to decide which families to holiday with?

I’m thinking about our pets, and how I’m going to woo yours just to remind you that even your most trusted pet approves of me.

I’m thinking about birthdays, and the joy of surprising you with gifts.

I’m thinking about our wedding, and wonder if I will have many friends to pack the pews with. I’ve often thought my funeral would be sparsely attended too.

I’m thinking about how, darn it, I just cannot wait to get my hands on you on our honeymoon and make up for lost time. A close friend advised me not to take you anywhere exotic on our honeymoon, because maybe we will be too busy to notice the scenery.

I’m thinking about how I’m going to take care of you when you’re sick.

I’m thinking of you with a baby on the way, or in your arms and nursing.

I’m wondering if you like chest hair or prefer something smoother.

I’m thinking about how fast our relationship could bloom. I can be a quick mover when I want to be. Back when I bought a car, I looked and looked while saving money. For months I searched. When I found the one I wanted, I took a day to have it looked at, do the background checks and proper vetting — and then dropped cash on the spot and drove it home. Just like that. I don’t get hung up on possessions, but a car (truck, really) is a valuable part of a man’s identity and I’m grateful for it. I think you’d be proud of it. It’s safe, reliable, dependable and there’s lots of room for our kids. It even has the sun roof.

It’s a portrait of so many things in life. For quite some time I suffered the slings and arrows of a very modest (humiliating) car. Now the car I drive, though not new, is better than the one most people drive. I wait for the right one to come along, and seize the opportunity when it does. I save up for it, while others are involved with something that really isn’t theirs. My decision to hold off makes other people jealous. The cruel part of me wants them to pine and yearn for that which they foreclosed on — and I don’t just mean cars. For years I drove that humiliating car and was made fun of for waiting. I guess it’s wrong to want vengeful vindication.

I’m just angry enough to want to return their mockery by twisting their regrets in their guts for not waiting, because at least our wedding night will be momentous. I’m just patient enough to want them to see that it was worth it, and how they’ll never know or see, or have what we’ll have.

I’m thinking about how love is a verb — and a choice.

I’m thinking of how I simply can’t wait to find the peace and excitement of knowing you, and to finally feel like it will all be worth it when you read these letters and your heart brims over with joy over the love I’ve been saving up for you.

I’m thinking about how I truly, madly, earnestly, deeply and passionately I miss you and love you.


June 7, 2012 - Posted by | Loneliness, Nights Like These, Our Wedding, Purity

1 Comment »

  1. […] good with words, Darling. It’s a gift God has given me. I used them to help buy that car I told you about. I can use them to uplift people, and though I try to restrain myself, I have used […]

    Pingback by #22: We’re Going To Make It « Letters to Luthien | August 5, 2012 | Reply

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