Letters to Luthien

Letters to My Future Bride

Strange and Sundry Thoughts, Pt. 2

Dear Darling,

I process things through talking or writing or thinking about them. (That about covers the gambit, don’t you agree?) Thus tonight, as I think through the raw thoughts of my mind and happenings of the day, I feed them through my brain and fingers, and try to separate them to cool and cure for your consideration.

1) “What are you doing tonight?” a co-worker casually asked me. We sit and talk all the time while we’re on duty and waiting for calls. I told him I had no plans. He told me I should call one of the interested young ladies I’d mentioned before and go out with them. I told him they weren’t the kind I wanted to marry. He shrugged and said I didn’t have to marry them.

Mind you, this is also the fellow who was calculating the hours required to wait until after midnight, so that I wouldn’t be “fooling around” on the Lord’s Day. When I told him about taking a nap, he asked if it was with anyone. He’s a respectable chap, and I like working with him. But his mind is most certainly not on the things of the kingdom.

2) Why is it people open up to me so much? I guess sooner or later I put things about myself out there, and they feel comfortable doing the same when I do. Maybe people like a person with almost nothing to hide. I remind them of what they once were, or aspired to.

3) I’m thinking about the things I need. The person I need you to be. I’m thinking about healing. Two people, when they fall in love, heal each other. That’s one of the many things fostered by the coming together of two worlds. This is my career choice right now. It takes must study and learning, because in order to heal, you must first know and understand the malady. God has put me in a unique position to where people tell me how they’ve been positively influenced by me even just in encounters or conversations with me. I suppose (or dare to hope) they see Christ in me. They’re uplifted. They’re comforted. They’re healed. The point is, in a psychological and emotional sense, I’ve seen that I can help heal people, and even been flatly told so. It’s going to take a special person to do the same for me. Maybe the rarest of women. I need someone who can meet me where I am, knows what I’m going through, and accepts it. Someone who can accept the challenge of lifting up my bulky soul from time to time — maybe often — and strengthening me.

It’s a strange and lonely craving to need someone who can heal you, yet seeing so many people in the world in need of healing. Showing me where it hurts is somehow a powerful attractant because of this latent urge to make things better. It’s as if I’m a broad-spectrum cure to many ills, yet in need of a very expensive and targeted cure.

Some people can’t meet you where you are and never can. Some people won’t. Most won’t even try. Some people need what you can give, but can’t give what you need. A lot of people, actually. Those are the hardest ones. That moment when you realize there is no path you cannot take which will not harbor regret. Regret that you chose them, or regret because you’ll always wonder if you should have.

I was thinking about this today and had a mild revelation. (And Darling, forgive me for touching on this subject once again, but you would have me write you nothing less than the purest, rawest and most direct stream of thoughts from my consciousness.) I think historically, traditionally, and to a lesser extent even in our contemporary society, women are validated through childbirth. The barren woman feels cursed and isolated, and she feels blessed and confirmed in her identity as a woman. Men? Oh, manly feats of strength and accomplishment are validations of sorts, but I think one of today’s rites of passage is sex. You’re assumed to be a failure if you haven’t “gotten some” by a certain age. So in my quest to help others understand an apparently unfathomable sentiment, I wonder if it would be helpful to frame it for a woman this way: Suppose that a man had already had a child without them. Suppose that most powerfully attractive and validating feature of being married, of womanhood, happened without them? Oh sure, there will be OTHER children, but that firstborn (historically of great significance, and still somewhat to this day) was already been and gone. Someone else had that baby.

I rediscovered Faith Hill’s song “Cry” the other day. It’d been a while since I heard it, and like so many songs, if given enough time, life will help the song’s meaning dawn on you and feel like you suddenly understood the lyrics. Suddenly it hit home:

“I don’t want pity
I just want what is mine
Could you cry a little? Lie just a little?
Pretend that you’re feeling a little more pain?
I gave now I’m wanting something in return
So cry just a little for me.”

Especially that line about just wanting what’s mine. I went and downloaded the song almost immediately.

4) As someone recently reminded me, this sprint has become a marathon. Remember I said when I first started considering relationships, I wondered if I could stomach the idea of a woman who had kissed another man. (Pity the poor little naive Beren! Everyone else does!) Now it’s funny to be watching all these happy couples file in, a duty of my second job. The ones who cheat, the ones whose romance won’t last. Somehow (ignorance is bliss?) they’re able to harvest just enough happiness to live off of. Odds are, they are being unfaithful to their future spouses and odds are it won’t last. But for now, they’re happy.

I don’t know if I should envy that or not. They say the secret to being happy is living completely in the present, being conscious neither of the past and its mistakes, nor the future and its forebodings. I don’t know how to do that, nor do I understand why you would. Would you close your eyes while driving down the highway, just for the thrill of the risk, even as you might crash? The point is, I have to sit there concealing the sorrow in my eyes and weight in my heart as these beautiful girls file in by the hundreds, most on the arms of unattractive-but-grinning boys. I wonder if I missed something. I wonder if I’m the only one who chose not to pursue mindless relationships, and if I won or lost in so doing. Either way, it doesn’t stop the thought that I’m watching all these people made happy through foolishness, and that it’s hard to be unmoved by such observations.

5) I also find myself wondering tonight, why don’t more people TRY more? Why don’t the shy little sheltered Christian girls get out there and live life? Why don’t the quirky, committed ones try to normalize? Why don’t the ones who miss the virtue they lost try harder to get back on the right path? People don’t need to be told what’s right — they need to be reminded. (I guess that’s part of what I wind up doing, by choice or by proxy.) There are a fair amount of virtuous young Christians, but they are, if I am being honest, homely, shy, unambitious, unspirited. They have no spark, no adventure. Remember Darling, I have a secret identity. I could get a call tomorrow and be on a plane to New York the day after. I did a web seminar presentation by phone the other day. I’m still waiting on some fat paychecks from some articles I published. I was recently quoted by an international news publication. I engage the world. I don’t just talk about it, I get out there and do something. I see no companionship and no future in someone who isn’t willing to join me in those endeavors, or support me in them.

Likewise, I have a bucket list. I have some adventure in me. I want to get out and travel and explore my world, not simply take it for what it is, or wait for it to come to me. Granted, there are plenty of times I’d like to do “nothing”, but not in the way of playing video games all day, or all night. The “church girls” that people often use in objection to my lament of no virtuous ladies are shy and sheltered; they lack that spark of spunk and gaiety. I want someone to supplement that desire in me, not drag me down by forcing me to drag them along, or worse, leave them behind. I want to come home and you be all on fire with your latest idea for what we can do or where we can go — and hopefully, how we can make it happen.

6) Sighs matter. I’ve been doing a lot of that lately.

7) Wisdom is a burden, knowledge is a curse. Solomon knew this. He wrote in Ecclesiastes, “I applied my mind to study and to explore by wisdom all that is done under the heavens. What a heavy burden God has laid on mankind! I have seen all the things that are done under the sun; all of them are meaningless, a chasing after the wind. … For with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the more grief.”

I feel like I can see the solutions to peoples’ problems, but they won’t try. I was re-contacted by the first women I ever truly liked; I can see the mistakes she’s making, the patterns she’s setting for herself. They are self-destructive and practically textbook, but she will not listen and I can’t help. I just have to offer friendly-but-cautiously-distant sympathy, perhaps in tribute to what once was, or what never can be. It’s funny how the heart and the mind have varying levels of response, attraction and maturity on these things.

8) For all these woes, it is helpful to remember that they are all secondary to my life, my liberty and the many blessings our Father does grant me.

Love always,

July 30, 2012 - Posted by | Sundry Thoughts


  1. About #5.

    I met a guy once that my friends wanted me to meet. We hung out in a group for an evening. When they asked me what I thought I could only answer that I wasn’t sure and that I’d be interested in spending more time with him to see more what he was like. When they asked him he said he wasn’t interested because there was no spark. Now, it might have been that he simply did not find me attractive, and I’d be fine with that. But if his real reason for tossing the possibility out the window was that there was no “spark”, I do have a problem.

    In my opinion, he didn’t give me a chance.

    I am a pretty, caring, talented, imaginative, funny, and strong woman who loves God. I long for adventures and passion. I love stories and music and nature. But I don’t love parties full of strangers. I’m not inept, but it’s not my best environment. I’m a small group or one-on-one kind of person. I also get better with time.

    Basically, I’m not immediately this gleaming shiny attractive thing. I’m not charming at first glance. But if someone would really look at what’s there they would find a wealth of love and inspiration and beauty. That guy didn’t even try to really get to know me. He thought that somehow our eyes would meet and he’d just know. He wasn’t looking hard enough.

    All I’m saying is that the boring “church girls” you describe may not be that. They might be exactly where God has them for the time and no matter how much they want to go travel and have adventures and change the world on some epic scale, they are going to obey Him and serve right where they are because that is what He’s asked them to do. And they might be a little shy at first but that doesn’t mean they are homely or unambitious or unspirited. They might just be a hidden treasure.

    I realize that this was written to your future wife and that you are simply voicing your frustrations (funny enough I’ve done the same thing in my own letters to my future husband), and I do want you to know that your blog has given me hope that there really are men who are truly waiting for their wives. Your writing reminds me of Jim Eliot’s letters to Elisabeth (only with the added bonus of Tolkien awesomeness thrown in 🙂 . I hope that you are finding joy in your singleness. I empathize with so much of what you say.

    – Ace

    Comment by hornychristiansinglegirl | October 12, 2012 | Reply

  2. Greetings HCG, thanks for your feedback.

    Your comment gets tricky, partly because I was in a very similar situation and was the male counterpart. I immensely dislike dealing out any form of rejection because I know what it feels like. But I also know I can’t accept something I know I’m not comfortable with in pursuing the rest of my life with someone. I went out in a group setting with the girl, but remember very little of our interaction. I remember a few different interactions before and after as well, and I even made an opportunity or two for interaction with the young lady in question, whom some told me I might get along with quite well. In the end, it wasn’t just the lack of a spark…..it was simply a failure to connect. And I suppose in my case, I didn’t find her altogether attractive.

    Anyway, I hope you don’t blame the fellow too badly. It’s tough to peg down what’s just hesitancy, what’s jitters, what’s overthinking and what’s just a total lack of that elusive “chemistry” which seems to critical yet so abstract.

    Thank you for your kind words. Comments of any type are welcome here, and I hope you will enjoy reading further.


    Comment by BerenEstel | October 13, 2012 | Reply

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