Letters to Luthien

Letters to My Future Bride

Forever Yours

“Fare thee well, little broken heart
Downcast eyes; lifetime loneliness
Whatever walks in my heart will walk alone

Constant longing for the perfect soul
Unwashed scenery forever gone
Whatever walks in my heart will walk alone

No love left in me no eyes to see the heaven beside me
My time is yet to come so I’ll be forever yours

Whatever walks in my heart will walk alone

No love left in me no eyes to see the heaven beside me
My time is yet to come so I’ll be forever yours

No love left in me no eyes to see the heaven beside me
My time is yet to come so I’ll be forever yours

Whatever walks in my heart will walk alone
Whatever walks in my heart…”


August 14, 2012 Posted by | Loneliness, Songs | Leave a comment

Strange and Sundry Thoughts, Pt. 3

Dear Darling,

Did you ever start a sentence and not know how you were going to end it? I’m starting tonight not knowing where I want to go, or what I want to say, or how to say it, but I feel like talking, and there’s no one really to talk to. I want a normal conversation, but those aren’t something you plan. You pick up the phone and call someone and ask them how they’re doing, and you go from there.

It’s funny. I’ve got a few dozen drafts of letters on here waiting for me to finish them, and another dozen ideas and thoughts bouncing around as vague ideas in my head. In fact, I’ve got a lot of writing I need or want to do. Grand promises and warm thoughts and gentle remembrances, and somehow all I want to do is sit down and have a normal talk with you. Not the beautiful prose and poetry I imagine or portray on a medieval scale between Luthien the Unknown Bride and her Knight, but the simple dialogue of two best friends who love each other.

People tell me I am risking building you up in my mind, until no woman can possibly live up to the ideal. Actually, aside from a few critical elements, there’s a lot of strange, normal, objectionable and weird I’d be willing to put up with. I’m good with some drama and baggage, as long as you didn’t really intentionally create it.

It would be easy to lower my standards though. Demand always goes up when a price is reduced, and let’s face it, I’ve faced a decent amount of demand already in my life. Is it so much to ask a girl to share my faith, be of equal intelligence, share my vision and aspirations in life, be physically appealing, and not torture me with mental images of having sex with another man?

I find that even among virtuous women, they have regrets. They got a little carried away with a boyfriend, they’ve done some kissing, maybe went a a little too far. They all have regrets, and I don’t. I’ve never had a girlfriend. The timing has never been right, the person has never come along that I felt comfortable pursing, or was really worth it. In reality, having no regrets is my regret. I have no mechanism by which to relate to the people around me. I’m viewed as somehow less than a man.

Maybe I’ve even done you a disservice. Perhaps, in holding such a standard, and hoping to find the same in you, I hold you to too high a standard. Maybe I should have just lived a little. Maybe I should have thrown a few kisses out there, had some fun, snuggled a girl or two. Maybe touched her, or let her touch me. Right? That way I’d have some regrets. I’d fit in with 99% of the rest of my peers. That way, you wouldn’t look at me as an oddity. You’d appreciate that I had some experience, since most girls somehow seem to value that over the restraint and strength of will it takes to restrain one’s self to give whole and pure and completely when the time comes.

That way I couldn’t hold you to the same ridiculous standard. After all, as I’ve said before, if you’re the type of gal I think you are, as wonderful as I hope for, how could you escape the jackals and cads, and maybe even the smoother and classier gents that put moves over on you? In some sort of blind irony, it seems most women can’t wait to build that trust, to find that security, to give, to know, to be known. And I’m not going to lie, Darling. It bugs me. It’s an irritating little burr under my saddle to think you might have snuggled, cuddled, canoodled, whispered, kissed, stroked or touched foreheads with some other guy.

Because see, now it’s a big deal. I’ve held out on that kiss so long that it’s special. It’s got a high price on it. I can’t just give it away to the first bidder. But people want to add that chemistry and electricity into the mix so soon. They want to release that hormonal, euphoric cocktail of pheromones and oxytocins and endorphins because it’s fun, and they miss the long-term consequences of bonding yourself like that before you’re ready.

I feel like I’m a luxury model; a Hope Diamond of men, too elegant for most people to desire, too expensive for most to afford. Arrogance, you might think? Ah, but who is sitting behind wall, surrounded by security, walled off from humanity, only to be looked at and adored from a distance? My fate is thus no greater than the common rock that lies by the wayside. No one wants to afford a rock; no one can afford a diamond.

Regretful of a clean record. What would the Savior say?

One of those dear, charming old ladies spoke to me today in church. She introduced me to her daughter, who spoke of her daughter, being my age and in the same profession. Wheels in the woman’s head were clearly turning as she mentally compared us and hoped I might be a willing son-in-law. Then she quickly snuck in the information she knew it was only fair to say; that her girl was a single mom. (And the explanation was nothing as innocent as a military mother left widowed by a war.) Another lady I encountered once eagerly set me up to have lunch with her own daughter. Now that I look back on it, I’m surprised I went, but I did, and it was a waste of time.

I think about all the people I should be praying for, Darling. So many souls I know, in pain, facing circumstances far worse than my own, who confide in me and who I feel obligated to check in on. (These are those friends who never text unless texted to.) I should pray for family, and job and school and economy and government and politics and missionaries and pastors and starving populations in forsaken countries.

All I want to do is pray about you. I want to ask God to bless you, nudge Him about how badly I want to meet you.

I suppose I’m a little bit worried I won’t find you, that all this waiting will have been in vain and I’ll have wasted the best years. I never gave much thought to that whole idea of a biological clock until recently. Suddenly life felt (feels) very short. I still wonder if I haven’t done something wrong. It’s good to know, in the midst of this, that God knows what He’s doing. Even if I don’t.

It’s hard to have faith through doubt, my love. But if you think about it, without doubt to push aside, there can be no faith.

Love always,

August 13, 2012 Posted by | Loneliness, Sundry Thoughts | 1 Comment

Why Is It Always the Good Ones?

Dear Darling,

Change is one mortal certainty in our lives. We know that things come and go, like feelings, like seasons, like tastes and thoughts and melodies. And friends. Our friendships evolve in our lives, and oftentimes they simply drift away. As people, we change, we grow, and we drift apart from people we were once bonded to. Sometimes it’s a slow gravitation with a sudden merging, like to droplets of water springing together in an instant of contact.

Other times it’s so quickly, though trouble or shared experiences where you reach out for one another simply because you need a friend and you have no one else. You share deep thoughts about yourself, things you don’t tell anyone else but don’t mind telling someone who is a friend, yet so newly friended that they’re still a stranger. You mull and muse and ponder things, and sometimes they reflect those thoughts, picking them up and turning them around with a new perspective.

And then they leave.

Isn’t it strange how those powerful links can be forged? Stranger still, how fast those links can be broken.

Maybe it’s just a function of human will, or human need. I was thinking about this the other day. Don’t ask me why, just morbid and morose meanderings of the mind, but I was thinking about how, out of all the friends I know, how come it’s always the good friends that drift away?

Take Mary for example. (No, of course it’s not her real name.) She fascinated me with her good looks, her work ethic, her thoughtfulness, her philosophies, and her seeming openness. It’s not often someone draws me with their apparent character and intellect and beauty. It wasn’t long I asked her if she’d like to have lunch with me. She politely and deftly “friend-zoned” me on the spot. Months later, I inquired as to the nature of this friend-zone, and if one is eternally sentenced here. She went to elaborate lengths to explain she was working through some issues of her own. This boiled down to “I’m seeing someone”, but she made it clear she had no interest in anything beyond friendship. I have enough friends, but it disheartened me to be treated thus by her.

Then there’s Alicia. She dwelt on the other side of the globe from me, yet drew me in with her breathtaking writing and letters to her future husband. She was seeing someone, so merely as friends we exchanged the most thoughtful and pleasant of e-mails, and I felt somehow compelled to become a better writer in my responses. Then suddenly, she stopped. I sent a few e-mails as the months went by, and finally caught up with her on Facebook, whereby she related an odd excuse, a half-apology and a blunt departure.

Then there’s Amber. Already married, we met professionally and corresponded primarily through Facebook. We had spiritual discussions of great depth, and were even able to discuss topics like purity candidly. She enjoyed my company online, and I hers, and she enjoyed talking about the daughter, her great pride and joy. And slowly, she simply stops talking to me.

Then there’s Emily. Drawn by our common grip to virtue and purity, we had lunch many times. I attempted one date and quickly backpedaled, yet we both agreed friendship was still quite doable. She’s the one that pulled that stunt about being engaged. I was worried about her erratic foolish behavior and immediately requested lunch with her, to which she agreed. She failed to show up, and made imploring apologies, saying the engagement was off and never serious to begin with, and she appreciated that I cared about our friendship so much. I’ll be honest, I have little to say to her now. I am tired of being mistreated by these sorts.

Then there’s Rose. Not going to lie, Darling. Rose was darn good-looking. One date, more than four thousand texts and several late night/early morning conversations, and I was excited about the possibility of pursuing a relationship. But something was amiss. She never quite could find the time for that second date. She even broke a few dates last-minute. I was understanding and accommodating — you know how I can be…! — but eventually reached the point of frustration to the point I confronted her about it. A family member offered severe criticisms at the same time (which I made the mistake of relating to her) and she decided she had too many marks against her to continue, so she ended our discussions.

Even Shiela, a good friend who I would be romantically attracted to if she’d Waited and shared my faith, has stopped talking to me. And of course, Danae, the girl I knew could never work out but who I still always felt drawn and attracted to.

And that doesn’t even begin to describe all the friends who I feel betrayed by because they turned their back on God and gave their front to someone they weren’t married to. Somehow, I can never look at them the same.

I wonder if it’s me? If I was such poor company, I wonder why these girls would continue talking to me and then abruptly end things? Did some of them find themselves falling for me when they know they couldn’t? Am I a drag to be around?

And why does it have to be the ones I enjoyed talking with the most? Why would Roberta, the first serious prospect to come along in ages, give up so soon? I liked that girl. I had hopes for her. But one date is hardly sufficient grounds to throw yourself on their mercy and plead for more chances. I suppose it’s scary how close I was to doing even that.

Ah, Darling. Why is it always the good ones that leave?

People say I’m lucky to have had this many friends, this many chances, this many options. These were merely the doors that they (or fate) slammed in my face. They were the bright riches sullied by darkness, the comforting presences that slowly slip away for their own ends.

People also say I’m too picky. Heh, too picky about the rest of my life, the love of my life, the other half of my heart. “Too picky” indeed.

Well. You know I’ll never leave. The trouble is, I have to find you before that promise comes true in any way. The old song asks, “How can I miss you if you won’t go away?” In my case, how can I do anything but miss you if you never come along?


August 9, 2012 Posted by | Loneliness, Sundry Thoughts | Leave a comment

In Anticipation of…Meeting

“So I’ll be waiting for the real thing
I’ll know it by the feeling
The moment when we’re meeting
Will play out like a scene straight off the silver screen
So I’ll be holdin’ my own breath
Right up to the end
Until that moment when
I find the one that I’ll spend forever with.”

– Nickleback, “Gotta Be Somebody”

Dear Darling,

God promises us that he can do more than we can ask or imagine. Way more. That should excite me since, in my opinion, I have a good imagination. Is it possible you could be better than I imagine? You’ve read of my discouragement and despondency over the trends of society. You know that when I seek for “perfect” I don’t truly mean perfection. But sometimes it seems impossible to imagine that I could ever find someone who fits that definition of perfect for me.

I have a confession to make: I have a persistent, entrenched desire for everything in my life to make a good story.

I want you and I to have a good story, right down to our first meeting. I want a story we can tell to our grandchildren: “Let me tell you about the time I met your grandmother. I still remember every detail…”

There have been times I’ve met someone that I began thinking about (innocent thoughts, you understand, the way of your man as he’s just beginning to wondering if such a girl could be you) and thought “Yeah, but the way we met was absolutely rubbish.”

Alternatively, there have been one or two meetings where I found myself just the right combination of witty and funny and polite, and thinking “Aw yeah, that’d be one for the family history book.”

It’s a silly way of looking at life, I know. Odds are we won’t be in some romantic setting, and neither of us will be on our game.

But oh, what if? What if it’s awesome?

I like the idea of chance meetings, for example. A person I’d always seen but never met or thought about. A friend I’ve known for ages and completely overlooked until one day a bolt of lightning hits me and I suddenly get butterflies in my stomach as I ask her out. Or just someone I bump into, strike up a casual conversation, and suddenly my soul rises to attention because I’m hearing what this girl is saying and finding out we have so much in common. Maybe we have a fender bender. Maybe we both respond to an emergency, and then in the aftermath we exchange contact information and laugh about it.

I’m not shy. I’ll chat you up. I’ll ask questions. They may seem casual, but maybe you’ll see through the fact that I’m surgically probing your mind to see who you are. If I like what I hear, I’ll ask for an e-mail, a Facebook, a phone number. I’ll find a way to stay in touch. I’m not bad with impromptu like that, although, I have to know something about you before asking you out. That’s how the world does it, isn’t it? “Hey, you’re cute, let’s go have dinner and find out if we have anything in common.” Dates have always been a bigger deal to me than that. I need to know something about you first before I’ll sit you down in a chair and (let’s just be honest) interview you.

You know some say I’m arrogant, but I also  have a confidence fed by a mildly steady stream of comments, compliments and girls who like what they see and hope I’ll like them. As a result of all that, I don’t harbor too many fears that you won’t like the man I’ve made myself to be…because I’ve been trying to make myself into the someone I thought you’d want to find. (To be honest, I hope you’ll be better than that, and that you’ll be someone I still have to work to impress, charm and win over.)

Maybe it won’t be anything that significant. Maybe it won’t be the makings of a good story. Maybe we’ll be fraught with miscommunication and misunderstandings. Maybe I’ll make a supreme idiot of myself and only through talking with you will you find out I’m not. Maybe you’ll be too afraid I’m like the other guys and shut down too soon. Maybe we’ll both be bumbling klutzes out of fear we’re going to botch something.

But is it possible that when we meet — dare we hope? — the sparks will fly immediately? What if, just what if, we meet and go out and things just go swimmingly? What if it will be so drama-free and peaceful, what if things clip along so smoothly and free of pain or drama that we’ll both be perplexed that we ever put up with anything less? What if we start shining together like two prisms aligned, and we just sit there dumbfounded — “Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow” — basking in this light neither one of us knew existed? Maybe we’ll have that feeling that it’s hard to believe we ever weren’t acquainted, like the people who say they’ve just met, but they feel like they’ve known each other a long time.

Maybe we’ll come away from that first meeting with a warm heart, a lightened soul, a smile or grin we just can’t erase. (Imagine the thought of an irresistible happiness?) If you’re anything like me, you might be grinning like an idiot, like a boy (“I think she likes me!”) and only daring to hope maybe there’s something there worth pursuing. Then that first date, and we’re both just blurting out things about ourselves and gleeful to hear the other say “Really? Me too!!” We’ll find pleasure just looking at each other, being with each other.

That’s going to be the fun part, Darling. It will be like a bank account that slowly increases, a smile slowly spreading across the face, a growing warmth in a cold room. That gradual hunch that turns into a thought, which turns into a hope that turns into a happiness which becomes surety and confidence — the swelling finality of our stories, merging into the joy and delight which I know we so desperately crave.

The glow of a beautiful sunrise increases, spreading its rays across the horizon, turning black to gold, turning night to day. Oh Darling, I sigh tonight as I imagine the happiness of our love unfolding. I can see it all from here, can’t you?

I don’t know, but I think we’ll have to make sure we each take it slow. Don’t ask me how, because it will be like waiting for heaven. “All we could ask or imagine,” remember? If we are engineered for each other and no one else, and we’re so enamored with each other, with the person who seems so impossibly perfect for us, better than we imagined, perfectly complementing us. It ain’t going to be easy.

But I have faith.

Ah Darling, how much I anticipate our meeting, and the ones to follow as we grow deeper together in our fellowship and love.

I love you. I always have, and I always will.


August 7, 2012 Posted by | Anticipation, Our Timeline | | 1 Comment

Pride and Despair (Lost in Paradise)

“I’ve been believing in something so distant…as if I was human!
And I’ve been denying this feeling of hopelessness
In me, in me.
I have nothing left
And all I feel is this cruel wanting
We’ve been falling for all this time
And now I’m lost in paradise.”

Evanescence, “Lost in Paradise

Dear Darling,

It’s windy and cloudy outside. It’s one of those moonless nights where the stars are veiled and everything seems darker than usual. The days are getting a little less humid and hot. Even if the calendars weren’t telling me autumn isn’t far off, I can feel it in the air. I go for a walk tonight and struggle to find the words to tell God how I feel. I think He already knows. I probably need Him to tell me how I feel, because I’ve got different emotions all bunching up together so that they get stuck and don’t come out. They all seem to boil down, down to nothing but emptiness and hunger and the ache of missing you.

Sometimes, on nights like these, I feel like crying. Only, I can’t. I can’t cry anymore, except sometimes at movies. So instead, I laugh. It’s a laugh devoid of genuine merriment; it’s more the bitter mirth of the utter and absolute deftness with which life deals the mocking blows of irony. It’s like a cry rerouted because the tear ducts are out of order.

A friend of mine got engaged today. Oh sure, she’s a little nuts, maybe even a lot nuts, but we shared common struggles over lunches and pleasant conversations. She made me laugh a few times. There was a side of me she understood that no one else did, and she was willing to talk to me, and listen. She has sworn off her faith; a fall worse than surrendering her virtue. Yet I still can’t shake the feeling I’m losing a friend…and a friendship.

People accuse me of pride. Sometimes they are kind about it. Yet how can I keep from it? People think knowledge and confidence are pride, but I know my own inclinations as well. It’s difficult to know how much weight to put on critics, especially when God has given me so many different opportunities, so much to learn from. “Be yourself” they say. How do you balance using the advice and opinions of others as a self-check, a sounding board to know how you’re coming off, while still being yourself and not letting others influence you the wrong way? God made me exceptional. He’s taken me through exceptional training grounds. To even speak of these lessons, these sights, these accomplishments is to boast. Thus, even among friends I must remain silent about an entire destiny. It’s like my greatest stories are something to be sheltered and hidden. Oh, don’t mistake me, Darling. I’m sure those moments don’t amount to very much in the grand scheme of things. Maybe you wouldn’t even be impressed. Those who know about them don’t seem to be impressed any longer. Maybe I’ve just set the bar so high that clearing it now is unimpressive. I set out to be the kind of guy that I would be impressed with. Maybe I’m just too easily impressed with my own self.

Sometimes it seems like nothing is real anymore…nothing lives up to its promise to change or excite or please. Do you know, as part of my double life, that I could have been hired on with one of the largest and well-known entities in the nation, if not the world? I could be drawing a very comfortable salary, wearing a tie and working alongside some very wealthy and influential men — building my own wealth and influence in the process. But it’s not real. It’s fake, false, hollow. As I’ve told you, I think work of this kind is in my future, but I think God let me glimpse that work so He could teach me why He is leading me down the path I’m on now. That’s why I chose medicine. It’s real. There are hurting lives every day, living out their worst nightmares in hospital rooms every day, that I can help make a difference with. I already am. It will take more than two years of schooling, but it will put me in a place where I can be real.

So pride, that’s one. Second, despair. Surely you can tell from these letters, love. Surely you can tell the road grows long, the sun grows hot, the burden grows heavy. I want so badly to give you joy and love and warmth. But the truth is, I’m just not feeling it right now. I feel left behind by everyone. It was my decision, and now I feel like I’m fighting this sinking feeling that following God’s will was the wrong decision. It is only a feeling. I know in my heart that following God can never be wrong. But it doesn’t stop me from feeling that way sometimes.

Christians are supposed to face hardships, but good choices are supposed to carry with them rewards. At least, the rewards of God’s will. And how can it be His will to feel this way?

I’m stuck in this horrible balance of fighting my needs and wanting to give into them. There are people I find attractive in some ways. They have most of what I look for in a wife. Yet somewhere in the back of my mind, this voice speaks with this exasperating clarity, saying “That’s not her.” How could you know, I argue. They may not be everything I could hope for, but maybe all my hopes are built up too high.

Yet deep down I know I could never marry someone with that voice whispering “You could have done better.” That would be an eternal injustice to a woman, let alone myself. But my current record isn’t exactly satisfactory on the matter.

The world has left me behind, and tantalizes me with romancing couples, the cries of babies, the carnal lasciviousness of worldly passions gone awry, and the songs and stories of love. Most friends inhabit their own lives, not understanding my thoughts, my goals, my dreams. Even my brothers and sisters in Christ cannot identify with the lonely road I walk to follow Christ, because they took other roads more pleasing to the eye and body.

I wonder sometimes what would happen if I stopped texting the people I know, checking in on them, asking them how they’re doing. (Am I the only one who checks in on so many people so often? Wouldn’t we all give much to have friends who text us every few days or couple of weeks just to make sure we’re doing well?) They only ask me how I’m doing to return the favor. And what do I tell them? My problems are the envy of those who have made worse choices.

I try to set aside my own cares and ask God’s blessing for them at night, but I do wonder if there are (m)any out there that speak my name before the throne.

That’s my problem. I care too much. No, truly! I care too much. That’s why, when friends make stupid decisions, it bothers me more than it should. When they choose to fall, I find it hard to forgive them or view them the same way. But let’s face it, most of these people can’t identify with me, because there’s no one out there like me. (Nay, it’s a lament not a boast!) I think that’s what hell is. Hell is being alone. Hell is isolation. But even if they can’t identify, they could at least try. Truthfully, it is the unbelievers who reach out more than the believers.

I just need a friend. I just need someone to listen and to understand. I’m dying to be that friend to someone. I’m bone-grindingly lonely. I just want someone to talk to. I want someone with whom I can be comfortable, let down the guard, be at peace. I want to be me, thoroughly and completely myself. I feel like I never can be me, the one God created me to be, until I find you.

I want to share your pain, and I want you to share my pain. Every human heart feels pain, my dear. Only in drawing close enough to share that pain can we be close enough to receive love.

Somehow, I can’t help but feel that if I can just find you, it’s all going to be okay. I can’t have found you yet, because God would have told me. So it has to be God’s will.

But it’s hard.

I love you, Darling. I hope somewhere out there, you’re loving me too. Maybe that might make nights like these a little easier.

Love always,

“As much as I’d like the past not to exist, it still does
And as much as I’d like to feel like I belong here
I’m just as scared as you
I have nothing left
And all I feel is this cruel wanting
We’ve been falling for all this time
And now I’m lost in paradise
Oh, run away, run away!
One day we won’t feel this pain anymore
Take it all away!
Shadows of you
Cause they won’t let me go
Until I have nothing left
And all I feel is this cruel wanting
We’ve been falling for all this time
And now I’m lost in paradise.
Alone…and lost in paradise.”

August 6, 2012 Posted by | Loneliness, Nights Like These, Sundry Thoughts | 1 Comment

When I Cross

(Via PostSecrets)


August 6, 2012 Posted by | Loneliness | 1 Comment

TOGWD: Breakfast in Bed

How about it, Darling?

Do you think I can slip out of bed and cook you breakfast without waking you or ruining the kitchen?

August 5, 2012 Posted by | Things Other Guys Won't Do | Leave a comment

#22: We’re Going To Make It

“Didn’t they always say we were the lucky ones?
I guess that we were once, babe, we were once
But luck will leave you ’cause it is a faithless friend
And in the end when life has got you down
You’ve got someone here you can wrap your arms around

So hold on to me tight, hold on to me tonight
We are stronger here together than we could ever be alone
So hold on to me, don’t you ever let me go.”

– Michael Buble, “Hold On

Dear Darling,

Do you remember in the Disney cartoon movie Dumbo, when the big-eared pachyderm tot is snuck in to see his imprisoned mother? I think everyone teared up when she snuggled him in close, and he clung wordlessly to her trunk because he’d missed her and needed her so badly.

It may not be the manliest of expressions, Darling, but sometimes that’s how I feel. Like I’m just down to my last straw, like I just need you to call when I get off work, or to pull you close when you need the same. It’s not some “lost mother” sentiment either, I get along fine with mine. I just get that image in my head sometimes when I think about how I need you.

Some days it’s nice to have a job I can completely bury myself in, to stay busy and thinking and on my feet and juggling different tasks so that I don’t have time to think about me…or you. But nevertheless, I still have these thoughts about you all throughout the day. Last night, for example, I thought “If only I knew who she was, I would take her some chocolate. Right now.”

But I didn’t. And I don’t. So I simply drove home.

I hope things aren’t as hard for you right now as they are for me. Everything else in life is slowly starting to line up, except that which the world and my own heart deem most important. It’s hard not to feel left out, even as I excel in so many other avenues of life.

But we already know times are going to be hard, don’t we? It’s hard to believe in that finish line, and it’s hard to run the race alone.

We’re going to make it. I promise you my dearest love, my darling future bride, we’re going to make it. You and me, with the Lord’s help. We’re going to grit our teeth, buckle down, suck it up, shake it off, and fight through it. I wish I could see you now, wish I could know if you’re as spent as I am, maybe kneeling by the roadside to catch your breath, wondering if you’ll make it. I wish I could walk up to you, lift your chin, cup your face in my hands, put my forehead to yours and give you strength. I wish you could hear my imploring cheers, that you could see me running by your side and shouting, begging, ordering you not to give up. And I don’t just mean on Waiting, Darling. I mean everything. I mean life. I mean love. I mean being a servant, I mean staying cheerful and happy.

I want to do this for you, because Christ told us to do unto others as we’d have done to us. I think we’ve all received at least one or two words of encouragement in our lives, and can remember a time when we were so tremendously downtrodden that those simple words put us right back on our feet.

I’m 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 them to berate them as well. Balm or blow, I weave them well. It’s a gift, and a curse. I want to use them to wound those who hurt me. I try, perhaps not successfully, to restrain them.

My point in all this is, I look forward to using those words to build you up. To take you into my arms and remind you how much you mean to me and how much you are worth.

We’re going to make it, Darling. We’re going to make it to each other. We’re going to make it to our wedding. We’re going to make it back from our honeymoon. We’re going to make it through sleepless nights with crying infants and sick children, we’re going to make it through school years and hectic holidays.

Through the rain and drought, snow and sun, good times and bad, famine and harvest. we are going to make it. You and me, together.

I promise.

Love always,


August 5, 2012 Posted by | Promises | Leave a comment