Letters to Luthien

Letters to My Future Bride

Your Time Is Coming

GleamingBrideDear Darling,

We all have our time in the light.

I’m not talking about fifteen minutes of fame. I’m talking about the moments where the sun shines fair and the light catches us just right to magnify all of our best and favorite features. We look our best, and feel our best, we feel grand and capable and hopeful, and everyone is looking at us while it happens, wishing us happiness and joy.

You’ve had a taste of that here and there, I know. Times you won, times you were proud of yourself, never happier to be you, times when everything came together at just the right time, or you were paid a compliment that somehow fell through your defenses, or you caught your reflection smiling back and approving your favorite outfit.

One day, someday soon, that day is coming round, bigger and better than it ever has been. It’ll be the sum of all those parts put together. Your friends will come to honor you, our families will celebrate and give gifts. The bells will ring, the organ play and down the aisle will come the only person that matters among the whole crowd in the entire church. Every eye will turn to you, radiant and glorious in white.

You will get to fret over wedding cards and decorations and venues just like you’ve wanted to, only this time you won’t be worried about bridesmaids’ outfits which fit or compliment you, but your friends. You’ll shine brightly in our engagement and wedding photos, and of these I attach the greatest premium. I don’t see us lacking for photographers with as many friends as I know in the industry, and these are the captured moments that can outlast a wedding gown or bouquet. We won’t let our friends and family be snapping away with their phones, but invite them to be present in the moment itself.

You will go from joy to joy as we seal our vows with a kiss, celebrate our union with a dance, and then depart at last.

But it’s not just a day, sweet heart. Days can disappoint, fail, be sabotaged. Winds can mar, rain can soak, tempers can flare. We can’t hinge all these golden hopes on the one day, but each one after. We can rest in each new morning, in the simple and intricate confidence of knowing we rise together to face life’s challenges.

You can rise knowing you’ve found something equal, something new. Something that turns your head because it touches your mind or heart in a way no one ever does, that you thought no one could. Something surprising and unexpected. Someone who asks questions, appreciates rawness, can get you to talk more, invite themselves to listen more. Someone who gives you an outlet, a ray of hope, a new perspective…or who will at least try.

Oh my dear, you’ve lived in the shadow often enough, unappreciated, unrecognized. You’re a crown of beauty, and one day the curtain will draw back and you’ll be properly brought into the light.

And oh, how you’ll gleam.

Until then.

Love,
Beren

March 20, 2014 Posted by | Anticipation, Our Timeline, Our Wedding | , , , , | Leave a comment

Finally

Dear Darling,

Hunger is the best seasoning. Too rare are the moments when both the word “finally!” and its significance can be breathed together. Life is a struggle, and things seldom go just the way we want. More often than we admit, that’s best for us.

Yet there do come moments whose sweetness is almost beyond savoring, moments where the burden of cares and of life itself is lightened, sometimes forever.

It may be the job we’ve always wanted, introducing us to achievement, respect and a new income bracket.

It may mean the luxury of new living arrangements, easing the constriction of a troubled mind.

It may be finally conquering a lifelong worry, finally understanding that we’re greater than the sum of our fears.

It may be succeeding where we thought we would fail — or the sigh of relief when the speech is done, the song is sung or the concerto played.

It may be triumphing over an exam or a class, when after anxious seconds the score is known and the knots of your gut finally loosen.

It may be a truth finally learned, a mystery solved under whose darkness you’ve labored for years.

It may be the slow and gradual awakening to the fact that we are capable and strong, the envy not of our peers but of our former selves; to realize you’ve become the self you aspired to be.

And then, it may be the peace and joy of finally, finally finding that long-sought special someone for whom we’ve pined.

None of these things solve life’s problems. They simply ease them. They don’t cure the affliction…but they do manage the symptoms. After all, it isn’t until you escape the surly bonds of earth that you recognize what a burden it is being a slave to gravity. Accustomed as we are to earth’s weight and pull, the lifelong struggle merely to stand erect, we don’t know what such relief is like until it happens. And then it does. And all the rest of life pales by comparison.

The irritations of life are diminished and its joys enhanced. Life’s problems loom less, its pleasures more. The world itself seems changed. Food is better, touch is kinder, patience keener, sun brighter. Sheet are softer, sleep is sweeter — and we are none the worse for waking. We wring meaning from life instead of life wringing meaning from us.

Perhaps this sentiment won’t feel as it seems, or else how could couples restrain themselves within the joy they’ve found?

I’m at the stage of life where most of these are still just a promise to strive toward. Which can be difficult since my peer group tends toward people who are already unwrapping those moments for themselves.

My dear, in this earthly life, marriage should be the single greatest and most important thing. School and work should be secondary; they will always be there with their opportunities, the bills will always come, the sick will always need of treatment. And maybe I do wrong by having to prioritize those things to keep the lights on and to keep progressing on the track towards which I can be your provider.

Age, though it asks only a day at a time of our lives, will continue grinding away at our hopes and our destinations. God knows what He’s doing…but we have our own “finally!” to find. Several of them, in fact. The ones we first say silently to ourselves as each learns more about the other. The finally of a relationship in which we both feel secure. The finally at the altar, or the honeymoon suite. The finally of a first house and a firstborn child, and all the other finally’s I wrote above. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get them started. One can be driven mad with the changing promises of those moments and their arrival. All we can do is keep pressing on. So Darling, I’ll see you there, and until then, I will see you in my prayers and dreams.

Love ever,
Beren

February 16, 2014 Posted by | Anticipation, Loneliness, Nights Like These | , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Meetings and Partings

Dear Darling,

Is it just me, or are older single people sometimes made to feel ashamed, somehow a failure for not being in a relationship? Surely you’ve sighed and wondered what’s wrong with you, not to have met someone that’s felt like the real thing, the torch that finally stays lit? Ah, but maybe that’s just me. Maybe I’ve got a few years on you yet, years that haven’t stretched on for you as much as me. But yeah, sometimes I feel that way. Like I’ve said, I watch these people all file in on Sunday mornings, attractive couples, all bedecked with smiles and fine clothes, younger than me, many of them. And you just start to wonder, what have those people have that I don’t? We can’t look at it like that, but I know the temptation is there.

I’ve lost count of the people there who desire my better acquaintance. Probably a half-dozen. Nice young ladies, of course, but it’s hard to explain exactly what kind of person will fit the bill, or why — through no fault of their own — they don’t. I suppose I don’t entirely know myself.

It’s the unknowing that gets you. Not knowing when, or where, or how. Not even knowing how you feel sometimes. With classes starting, changing apartments, church services changing, the family upheaval, there’s a lot of change on the wind, and sometimes it takes longer to process.

If you asked me right now what I’m feeling, I could honestly say I don’t know. Sometimes like I’m in God’s purpose, but yet there’s still something missing. Feeling behind, ahead and right on schedule. Like everything is up in the air and changing, and yet, I want something new. Like I’m living the most amazing, blessed and enviable life, and yet, an unfortunate one at the same time.

That’s part of the reason why I won’t always tell you what I need. Not always, anyway, not unless you ask. Sometimes I just won’t know. It’s not fair to you, and I don’t intend to leave you guessing. But unless with you, I’m not usually the sort to sigh and say “you know what, I think I just need a hug.” It may be true more often than not, but I don’t ask. I don’t feel entitled to put myself first.

Alegfast asked tonight if I’d like to join them in the hot tub. It’s a small tub, and barely room enough for him and his friend — the woman he spends all his time with but won’t date. I think he knew I would decline. Why wouldn’t I? I don’t fault them, or anyone at all, for hot tubs or massages as some of them do. But I don’t think that way. I don’t think of ways to treat myself, or to relax myself. I don’t live for myself, not normally. I live for others. That’s why I feel stale when I’m not working, even after working long hours. I think that’s also why I write, even when I have little to say. If I’m not serving a purpose, I don’t feel worth much. I don’t think it’s always a good thing.

On the subject of being purposeless, I’m still having internal conflicts with the family. I’m standing up for what I know is right, and it’s not setting well at all. I sought counsel on the matter, and among other things, was asked what my father and mother, but especially my mother, have to live for if not their children. What would they do when they all left? The question nearly stunned me. My mother has spent every ounce of her energy fostering family, education and household. I’m not sure that she has much after that. I’m actually disturbed to realize my parents may have spent so much time orbiting around their children that they forgot how to be a husband and wife, or that they could find new identity as “just” a couple. At least until the grandchildren come along. (That’s up to us you know, at least for now.) I’m told strife is still rampant and the discord runs deep. (Pray.)

I have been of a fairly strong conviction that a wife’s optimal role was that of Proverbs 31, to manage a household. I have never been of the persuasion that “a woman’s place is in the home” or that women cannot work. Rather, I have held the conviction that children are not to be birthed only to be bequeathed first to childcare and then to the state to educate and safeguard. These roles are given by God to us as parents, and that a mother and wife is most often best suited to care and manage and instruct, supporting her husband as he supports her, while the father is to bear the curse pronounced in Genesis 3, by the sweat of the brow will we earn our daily bread.

This concept, that of robbing a mother of purpose or identity outside of her children, suddenly became clear to me when I saw my mother — and how she might see herself — and all of her labors imperiled if she thought her children had not become as she believed they ought. Maybe my parents haven’t been diligent to pursue an identity and a life of their own beyond the household, but it was the first time a compelling argument has entered my mind against mothers primarily as caregivers.

We shall have to discuss that one more in person.

There are some houses about which still have their Christmas lights up. I’m always grateful for these people. The world needs the cheer of Christmas kept burning into the cold January nights.

Some friends and I played some games into the night, and it turned into men versus women. In a bid to distract the men (and in vengeance for the lads’ own ploy) the women began discussing hygiene, cycles and cramps. It resulted in a victory for the women, and turnabout was fair play for the men that started it. But I rather think, at least in public settings, some things are best left unsaid, don’t you?

Ah my dear, I’m sorry again that I’m not there for you. Life is long and love is hard, and I know your hardships are harder to bear in my absence. Missing me is just another part of loving me. My prolonged absence is what will make the payoff all worthwhile. Every day I’m not with you whets our appetites for our union and lives together.

And one day, it will happen. One fine day you’re going to turn around and out of the blue, I’ll be there. Unexpected but right on schedule. Someday not too distant, I’ll take you by surprise, and, if I can, I’ll leave you speechless with a very forward but casual invitation to see you again. If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll have a race between the butterflies in your stomach and the ones in mine.

God bless and keep you my darling, and may he guard you in his care until such time as he delegates the task to your one and only Beren.

Love,
Me

January 13, 2014 Posted by | Anticipation, Loneliness | , , , , | Leave a comment

If I Met You

14. Lynch, Brent - Twilight RomanceIf I met you, it would be like an unexpected wave of happiness washing over me and leaving an irresistible smile in its wake. It would be like God sweeping back the curtain as only He can, saying “Here she is!”

If I met you, I would be worried I’d forget your name, partly because my memory blanks in happiness, and partly because it takes time to commit to memory.

If I met you, it wouldn’t matter what your name is. It would be above my likes and dislikes; it would describe you, and that is all I need know.

If I’d met you, your face wouldn’t burn itself into my mind yet, but your soul would have. That means I would get to see you anew each time we meet. I would better know and remember your character; I would know you better from the inside out.

If I met you, it would be natural, so natural as to arouse both fear and suspicion. I would continually worry someone got it wrong, had messed up the paperwork, that someday Santa would come back all apologies and say there’s been a dreadful mistake, this happiness was meant for someone else.

I’d be worried it isn’t real.

There wouldn’t be a lot of drama, or angst, or fear. For the first time, there wouldn’t be any roadblocks except what I put up to make sure to take it slow. It would be fearful and freeing; a green light and an open road for the first time.

If I met you I would finally realize why it never clicked with anyone else, the people with whom I always felt some kind of roadblock; a lack of peace, a lack of clearance, a lack of something. I’d realize that I wasn’t supposed to be with any of those people, because they weren’t you.

With you, there wouldn’t be those hangups. Just peace, clearance and a divine “go get ’em.”

If I met you, I would kneel to pray at nights and God would beat me to the punchline: “Ain’t she something?”

If I met you, we’d spend so much time together in that first week that it would feel rushed. You’d be surprised my questions were so deep and direct, but you’d answer openly and truthfully.

If I met you, conversation would be easy, open, and pleasant; it would be worthwhile for its own sake. We’d mull over the deep questions, a steady flame rising in each of us as we realized our expectations, hopes and dreams were met (complemented, fed, fueled) by the other. We’d each be the hope that neither of us dares trust.

If I met you, I’d have to hold myself back. I’d be loving what I’m seeing, dying to know more. I’d want to share with you every keepsake, souvenir and heirloom accrued during the journey here. I’d have to remind myself to hold back and go slow. Someone who gives me such peace to pursue deserves to be pursued slowly and intentionally, savoring each moment along the way, and not diving in too quickly, for principle’s sake if nothing else.

Your faith would be real, your strength and boldness would be evident. You would take me off guard with how winsome you are. You’d be encouraging and attentive, just the right combination of confidence and vulnerability. There’d be lots of little “perks” about you, an alignment of the quirks and eccentricities that just fuel the feeling we were made for each other.

If I met you, my mind would immediately set about marveling at the few twisted ends of my timeline it can comprehend, which seemed at the time to be in such shambles, but in truth have conspired seamlessly towards our introduction. I’d trace all the paths that led me to you, recognizing that each and every one fulfilled a purpose, and if even one of them had gone wrong, we wouldn’t have met.

If I met you, we’d go to the movies. You’d smuggle frozen yogurt in your purse, and we’d bend in to whisper comments or jokes about the movie or its plot holes. It would be an excuse to touch heads, for you as much as me. Whispering in your ear would inexplicably feel like home, and like resisting a magnet to pull away.

I’d be worried such joyful potential wouldn’t last. That it isn’t as “meant to be” as it feels, or that I’m going too fast.

If I’d met you, then time away would renew my mind’s questioning it was real. I’d question your looks, your personality, your attraction. Then you’d surprise me from behind, and as I turn to look, the sum of all my fears and doubts melts into a herd of butterflies which migrate into my stomach.

If I met you, it would make me just a little light-headed. It would be exactly as I imagined, and yet nothing could have prepared me for it. I would question how on earth I could know to expect an experience and follow a script I’d done nothing but imagine.

If I met you, I would want to tell people, random people: “Hey! I think I’ve found her!” But they won’t care. They’re too casual in their own pursuits to appreciate the beginning of something amazing — the end of the loneliness. They fall too easily, too quickly. A love left until the due time to cure in its own isolation, a time so long that when it’s brought forth, it’s the most pure and refined of droughts can’t be imagined by those who fall so easily.

If we met, it would be the first time I’ve encountered living proof that the girl of such character and quality exists.

If I met you, I would mention it casually to a friend or two, knowing there’s nothing casual about it. I’d write e-mails to my mother about you, trying to convince her you’re the real deal. They wouldn’t believe me. wouldn’t believe me.

I’d look at you, furtively and fervantly. “Luthien?” I’d ask hopefully. And even though you didn’t know who she was…you’d suddenly find yourself hoping you were.

And above all, if I met you…all this would be real, but I couldn’t tell it to you yet. Instead…instead I would retreat here, to my sacred and transparent refuge, where I would chart all these experiences, and hold my breath for the next step.

July 11, 2013 Posted by | Anticipation, Our Timeline | Leave a comment

Coming Home

09. Vettriano, Jack - Back Where You Belong

Dear Darling,

What if you had been waiting for me when I returned?

Oh I know it’s a far-fetched idea. We don’t know each other. No matter what arcane notions I have about knowing you when I see you, the truth is we have an elaborate, possibly complicated, maybe even messy path ahead of us in getting to know each other. It’s the uncertainty that makes things so scary — and so exciting.

But I allow the idea to enter my head for fantasy’s sake, or for the sake of the different way these events will repeat themselves in the future.

I am a traveler, my dear. I’m not a gypsy or a rolling stone, but desire and need both drive me to travel. I like to travel. There are some who use it as an opportunity to look down on those who don’t. I hope I don’t do that, but there’s no doubt in my mind, travel lends a unique perspective on the world. It does open up your horizons a little, helps you see both how small and how significant we really are.

This trip, unlike any other, helped me relax, unwind and be comfortable around friends. Perhaps for the first time, accepted as a peer among peers. It allowed me more freedom than my previous trips have. And it gave me a portrait of what recreational travel might be like when we’re together all the time. A shadow of your future memory accompanied me to every restaurant, every airport and every beachfront. It’s like I previewed our trips before we’ve taken them. And yes, mentally I’m taking notes.

Not all our travel will be fun. And heaven knows, not all of it will necessarily be mine. Maybe it will be me out there in that cell phone lot, waiting for your plane to arrive, standing just behind the airport column with a bouquet of flowers to surprise you. Maybe for once, we’ll be that couple embracing with the kind of affectionate reunion that reminds me of heaven. One of us descends the stairs and descries the other among the crowd of expectant faces. The rest of the crowd, and then the entire airport, fade into the periphery as we rush into each other’s arms. We’ll spend a few minutes in our own little cocoon of bliss, I’ll give you your flowers and you’ll give me a kiss. I always try to bring back souvenirs, so you can look forward to that too. (This trip, it was chocolate.) Or upon your return, I’ll grab your bags and we’ll go out to the car. I’ll pack the bags in, then get your door for you. I’ll climb into the driver side and in the silence of the car, we’ll lean over the console and lose ourselves in another kiss before I put it in gear and immediately begin the inquiries about the trip.

Or maybe this will be some of the early defining moments before we’re married, when the pangs of absence first begin to promote the furtherance of our affections and you call on me to pick you up.

Today, of course, I descended the stairs alone. I watched the happy reunions around me, alone. I retrieved my luggage alone and walked into the rain, where my father took me home.

I think there is much travel in store for both of us darling, for both business and pleasure. If I should prove so unfortunate as to be without you on our travel, then I hope I can anticipate finding you there to meet me when I come home. I hope I can check in with you every night, talking in hushed tones while laying across the hotel bed with my blazer beside me, my collar and tie loosened and my sleeves unbuttoned. I hope when I come home at the end of the day, I might at least sometimes find you waiting behind the door to ambush me with a kiss, or maybe more.

I hope…I just hope that one day, I’ll come home and you’ll be waiting for me.

Love ever,
Beren

June 9, 2013 Posted by | Anticipation | Leave a comment

Valentine’s Day Special: Imagine the Fire

Flaming Passion

“And on nights like this, when my blood runs riot
With the fever of youth and its mad desires,
When my brain in vain bids my heart be quiet,
When my breast seems the centre of lava-fires,
Oh, then is the time when most I miss you,
And I swear by the stars and my soul and say
That I will have you and hold you and kiss you,
Though the whole world stands in the way.”

Dear Darling,

Happy Valentine’s Day.

No really. I know it may not be happy now, when you’re a party of one on a day meant for two. (I hope you’re not spending it with someone else!) I’m sure it gets harder for both of us with each passing year. But I wish for it to be happy nevertheless.

This year, rather than wallow in the musings of self-pity, I thought I would give you a gift. The gift of imagination. I want to use the power of these letters to offer you a glimpse of my vision for the future, for how awesome it’s going to be one day. I’ve been working on this letter for three months, so I hope you like it.

First, tell me something: How much imagination do you think is okay? Before we meet or marry, is it okay to fantasize about our married life? Is it okay to reminisce about the future today, and relish the treasures yet to come? How often do we dare let ourselves broach the topic, how much banter is permissible….how much fire can your mind play with before a line is crossed?

I have a good imagination. I’ve had thoughts (and dreams) that might make you blush. I know that one day we’ll seal ourselves in covenant, forever freeing us to dance in the flames, and until then, it’s hard. Thinking about it (sometimes) makes it easier. I think any race is easier when you know there’s a finish line.

It’s okay to look forward to that…even to get excited about it.

I think it’s the freedom I’m looking forward to the most. The ultimate license, the absolute liberty to release every inhibition, caution, reservation and warning we’ve ever had…inhibitions about time and touch and love and romance and intimacy and propriety and sex.

Oh darling! Can either of us even begin to conceive of the freedom of kissing, touching, hugging, caressing, making love whenever we want? It will be like nothing else. No strings attached! Guiltless, fearless! It will be an experience to cherish. There’ll be no shame. We’ll be proud of each other. You’ll be able to take pride in being worth waiting for, and pride in your man for waiting! You won’t be competing with any other experiences or memories, and neither will I. We can enjoy each other just for being ourselves. One partner, no worries. It will be a celebration. Our whole wedding day will be, and as flustered and surreal as that will be, underneath will be the fires of passion and anticipation, a quivering, eager expectancy.

If you look at me, you might see steam. If I looked at you, I’d probably see stars.

Oh, and Darling, I want it to be the best! I want hundreds of tea lights, chocolates and rose petals. I want soft music, dim lights and silk sheets. And yes, I intend to have spent more than a few weeks at the gym. (Nothing but the best for my bride.)

I think I know how it will start. Of course we’ll both be nervous. Maybe even shaking. Each step beyond the borders of the formerly taboo will be furtive, but I daresay hunger will compel us. I’m sure there will be plenty of kissing. You might run your hands through my hair. But at some point, if you’re willing, you’ll have to let me take over, take you by the hand as we cross that threshold, to take our place in the book of love. It will be time to awaken your senses and excite them. I’ll kiss not just your mouth, but your eyelids, your forehead, your ears and the soft skin at the base of your throat. Our eyelashes will tickle each other to meet. We’ll feel chills and pulses as our foreheads meet, and you’ll thrill and shudder as I kiss your bare shoulders. I’ll take a rose and trace the lightest touch over every inch of your body, with lips to follow. Such rapturous vulnerability…it will terrify and thrill.

They say most don’t get it right the first time. I plan on trying. Lack of experience doesn’t mean lack of knowledge; I know to go slow. But ultimately, I suspect we’ll want each other so badly that neither of us will be disappointed. Still, I want to put you first. I want you to have a secret that you can’t tell anyone, or maybe you’ll tell a close friend or two — that you suspect no one ever loved a woman like your man. I want your eyes to roll back, your neck to arch, your toes to curl and the hairs on your neck to stand on end. I want to make you forget about time and life and fear and yourself and even us. I want to transcend the physical and unleash a blissful torrent of ecstasy straight to your brain, a seismic reverberation taking you places you’ve never been before, a flaming rush of senses that feel so good you wonder if it’s even right. I want you to lose yourself in the moment, your brain to go blank, not even knowing you’re making the noises you are. I want you to come back to yourself drained, grateful and amazed. All of this and more I wish to do for my darling, my beloved Luthien, simply because she deserves it.

Nothing in our public life, our dreary waking existence could ever prepare us for such euphoria.

Hours later, we can spend the rest of the night, talking for hours, giggling gently, touching each other’s noses and asking all the questions we’ve wondered, about what it’s like to be a man or a woman, learning about each other and exploring, fervently laying bare whatever secrets are yet unlearned. The burden of being forbidden will lift, and we can bare not just our bodies but our souls before each other. Finally, exhausted and tranquil, we can drift off to dream in each other’s arms.

Imagine the morning after. Things will be peaceful and still, just as they are after any fire. Imagine your consciousness rising to the surface, when you first become aware but before your eyes even open, when the thought explodes inside your brain: “I’m married! I’m his wife! I belong to him, and he belongs to me!” Those are the moments that make every pain in life worthwhile…waking and finding only love and hunger, renewed and washing over us, heedless of care and worry. Moments when you want to jump up and run around, uncontrollable joy bubbling up as we dance and laugh and embrace, because our waking world is finally better than our dreams. Maybe I’ll wake up before you. If I do, I’ll wake you up with a kiss. You pick where.

Breakfast and some encore performances will be in order, don’t you think?

And that’s just the first night! You might recall, I’d like to honeymoon on a private island. Imagine yourself there now. The doors are open and a warm tropical breeze wafts through the house to rustle the curtains and caress our bodies. It’s day three of our island vacation. Maybe later we can take the boat out for a spin around the island, or take a dip in the ocean. We’ve come back and showered off (nudge nudge, wink wink) and in the process of satisfying one appetite, we’ve worked up an appetite for dinner. So we head to the kitchen for dinner — grilled seafood. (If you like seafood?) If you like, I’ll feed you the whole meal.

Then the sun goes down, and we keep the lights off. Maybe there’s a veranda, and I can light some torches, to give us the primal luminescence of firelight. We can cuddle in a reclining chair built for two and tenderly read each other poetry, or our letters. We can dreamily share more stories of our lives as our fingers trace little patterns on each other. We can take a walk on the beach, sit on a knoll and watch the moonlight. (Remind me we need to go when there’s a full moon.)

Darling, we’ll be making up for for 25-30 years of virginity, and while I see no reason not to try that first night, we’ll have the rest of our lives to satisfy and reward each other. Take the first year for example. Aha, that first year…! I think people are going to be whispering behind our backs about that one. We’ll be late to work, and sleep-deprived. We’ll develop code words to whisper at parties, which will find us both leaving early. Did I say words? Who needs words? One of us will just give a glance and suddenly the air around us is sizzling and we’ll have to make our goodnights. I probably wanted you the moment you walked out in that dress.

Things are going to be hazy and dreamy and wonderful. The ultimate intimacy, the communion of souls. Oneness.

There will be things we’ll both be excited to try. We can be discreet, but daring. We can make overnight trips for the weekend, or go camping and spend late-night romps in a tent or around a campfire. We can wake each other up in the most delightful ways. We can be risque, and inappropriate. So many people seek to be “good in bed.” I don’t want to be good in bed…I want us to be good in bed. By listening, and putting you first, I hope to be all you could ever hope for in a man.

The problem is, I want you right now. I want to make out with you. Like, seriously. I just want to forget everything and let go, both of us caught up in a kiss that ignites fireworks in our brains, that sets our hearts racing, our heads spinning, our blood pumping, our neurons firing wildly. There’s going to be that animal magnetism  primeval and raw. The shackles aren’t loosed yet! For a while, we’ll fear to be alone because we can’t trust ourselves. We’ll have to guard each others hearts if we ever want to arrive at that night without being ashamed.

There will come a day we’ll have to meet to talk about this…after we’ve promised to marry, we’ll meet — in public — to discuss your expectations and mine. What we each should wear, how we’ve always imagined it, what our expectations will be. Would you like to remove your wedding dress and tuck it away? Or would you like me take care of that for you? Will you wear something daring — either black or red — for me?

Luthien, my love, you’re the only thing that keeps me waiting. Come to me soon. We have some dreams to get started on.

Until then, happy Valentine’s Day my fiery darling. I mean that with all of my heart.

With love and fire,
Beren

February 14, 2013 Posted by | Anticipation, Holidays, Our Wedding, Promises, Purity | , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Back to a Reason

“Got to get back to a reason 
Got to get back to a reason I once knew;
And this late in the seasons 
One by one distractions fade from view 
The only reason I have left is you.”

Trans-Siberian Orchestra

Dear Darling,

Why is it that I always want to start by talking about the weather? Is it because after all these years of writing to you, I still don’t know you well enough to know how to begin? Maybe it’s because I want to set the scene for you, to help you imagine yourself here. No matter. What’s to be said about it? Disappointingly warm, not a hint of snow.

The madness of study is at its end. For now. I’ve crossed the finish line, or at least the first checkpoint. Four more to go, but the next leg of the race doesn’t begin for another month.

There’s a kind of shock about the whole thing; a breathless, stunned, surreal haze of triumph and success. Sometimes when you’re pressing on towards something, when the going gets rough and you tuck your head and plow through, you forget there’s a finish line. Mired in the struggle, pressing like mad with one objective you forget there’s reward, that it will pay off and that there’s more to life than just struggle and hardship.

When you finally get there, you feel a sudden and almost unfamiliar relief from the strain and stress. You feel lost and found all at once. You’re relieved, but so accustomed to the routine that you are conditioned to it.

I’ve got to keep my eye on that finish line.

If you lose sight of that, you lose sight of the whole objective. I’ve got to remember hard work pays off. There’s a reason for what I’m doing, and that reward will be worth the struggle to win it.

I’m doing more than overdramatizing a few final examinations, dear. Much of life is a test, and so far I’m still in the running.

And it is good to be done with finals for a month.

Meanwhile, life goes on. I’m visiting a friend tomorrow. I have to, she’s in the hospital. One of my rules is to visit a friend if they’re in the hospital. It doesn’t change anything that I feel towards her (anger, betrayal, desertion, etc.) but it is in obedience to my Lord. I hope it is pleasing to Him for me to obey Him even when I don’t want to.

Many children died today. It was on the news. I’m not a parent, so it doesn’t strike so near a chord in my heart, but as I see others traumatized by the event and responding with visceral emotion, I am reminded again that my shoulders are broad to contend with events like this, and to be strong in tragedy to better support you, or others who are weak.

And tonight as I lay down my head in peace, free of the worry about tomorrow’s demands, my thoughts turn again to you and the things we’ll do together. Last night there was a meteor shower. That, and music and midnight movie premieres and ice skating in the park are all things I want to do with you. Oh, and gift-giving. I’m helping my parents shop for my siblings. I’m rather proud I came up with some grand gift ideas this year. I’d have a gift for you too if you were here. I actually am invited to two whole parties this year. (I’m starting to wonder if they’ve got the right Beren!) It would be such fun to bring you along…

But most of all, after the day is done, after showers and dinner (and desert) I can’t wait to lay on our backs in the dark, forgetting about the world and just talking together.

Love always,
Beren

~”I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.” Romans 8;18~

December 15, 2012 Posted by | Anticipation, Loneliness | 2 Comments

5 Movies We’ll Watch

RomanticMovieDear Darling,

When we finally meet and are together, not only will we finally have someone to go to the movies with, but we’ll get to stay at home and watch our own movies. I’ve missed out on plenty of good movies I wanted to see just because there was no one to go with, and I’ve sat down to find many a good movie on TV to watch, wishing you were there to join me.

Here’s a list of five movies I want to watch with you:

1) The Princess Bride
Romantic and fanciful classic. You lose points if you’ve never seen it or can’t quote it as much as I!

2) Lord of the Rings
Yes, technically that’s three films, going on six, but the series is dramatic and powerful and as you can tell by the nomenclature of these letters, Tolkien’s worlds are quite meaningful to me.

3) Casablanca
One of my favorite movies, ever. Every line is perfect.

4) The Notebook/A Walk to Remember
They’re both chick flicks, and I’ve never seen either one all the way through. To preserve my man-card, I’ll have to have you watching them with me.

5) Groundhog Day
I don’t like the sex portrayed in it, but I like the concept and final lessons.

I love movies on TV, by the way. They censor out most of the objectionable stuff. I have pretty high standards about movies. I don’t like excessive swearing or violence, and sex/nudity is a major problem for me. I don’t think it’s healthy to let that pervade your mind when our Lord commanded us to think on what is lovely and pure. Even when we’re married and those thoughts are far more permissible than they are now (targeted as they’ll be on someone whom I may love guiltlessly), and maybe I’ll feel more license to let such content roll off my mind, I still don’t think it’s going to be healthy to consume those materials often. Unfortunately, our entertainment industry is fixed on putting it into every film in some form, but it is ours to obey God, not man.

There’ll be lots of new movies to see, and old black and white movies to catch up on.

Which ones do you want to watch with me? Start making your lists now.

Love always,
Beren

December 8, 2012 Posted by | Anticipation | Leave a comment

Various and Sundry Thoughts Pt. 6

Dear Darling,

How many are my thoughts for you, Darling. How many! It should probably concern both of us how often you cross my mind, but it isn’t that hard to understand. We have a lifetime to spend together. There will be times we’ll be apart, but the little moments and the big ones will add up quickly. Right now, you come to my mind quite often when it is not otherwise occupied (and even when it is) and I hasten to scribble those thoughts down before they’re lost. I’ve written them on note cards, post-it notes, on the back of old envelopes and receipts, in my notebook and on my cell phone.

It’s the height of autumn. The trees are in full display, and every morning I drive past a dozen landscapes meant to be painted and photographed and quietly absorbed with reflection as the sun rises. Of course, I scurry past them on my way to work and school. Activity is making these days fly past. I considered today a relative loss until I recounted all of its events and realized it was actually quite busy…and then I realized I have worked myself into an frenetic threshold of activity not to take a day and do nothing.

As I so often do, I wrapped a coat around me and stepped out into the night air. Here my thoughts and feelings and prayers flow and mingle, silently and aloud. It’s a true autumn night. The wind and rain have died down, with leaves and evergreen needles strewn across the grass and pavement. There’s a loneliness on the wind, along with hints of woodsmoke and snowflakes, and the brackish, musky odor of wet leaves and night air.

As ever, there’s a silent sadness out here. Maybe I brought that with me.

I’m thinking about the last four years and how difficult they’ve been relative to the rest of life. I wonder if that has anything to do with our country’s leadership, and am reminded that unrighteous leaders often lead to a nation being judged and lacking in prosperity and blessing. I wonder if that’s going to change in a few weeks.

I’m thinking about an old flame, or the closest thing I have to an old flame, and how she has been reaching out a little more recently. She’s going out with another guy, mere months after her last long-term fling dumped her. She once made me feel special. I daresay she has that ability for every guy she meets. I feel for her and pity her, as I can see the pitfalls she continually sets herself up for. Isn’t that always the burden of wisdom? I think sadly how if she had been a servant of Christ and had waited, we might have been married by now. As it is, she’s gone through three or more boyfriends since our fellowship was broken. Now doesn’t that make me feel special.

I’m thinking about who I want you to be.

Who do I want you to be? So many things. I want you to be a girl who updates Facebook and quotes Princess Bride, who takes photos but not the kind with pouty lips, who isn’t afraid of trying new things, who cooks and sings and stays active. Someone who can laugh and punch me in the arm, who can be kind and soft and warm-hearted, yet firm, solemn and sincere. A good comforter, who can be confident even in admitting uncertainty, hurt and confusion. Who can take initiative and lead, but also can follow gently and contentedly. Someone who is humble, yet knows she deserves to be treated like a princess — without taking her prince for granted. I hope to find you pure and proper, prepared for me.

I have to remember to take you as you are…flaws and all. We both have to understand there will be things we don’t like in each other that we must accept, adjust to and embrace. You’re not perfect. I’m not either. We both have to be good forgivers, Darling. We both have to be aware of our own minefields and frustrations in life and our triggers.

I thinking and wondering to myself, what if I don’t know happiness when I see it? I keep waiting for this new, one-upped level of happiness, something extrinsic to my existence that I expect to feel when I finally have someone with whom to share life and be intimate. What if it’s not there? What if I’ve already been as happy as I’m going to get, and am just too dull to notice? What if I’m waiting for some grand fireworks finale and it already passed? To be sure, there are happy times in life. Indeed, many would say my life is the envy of many. We all hope our better days are ahead of us, but what if I peaked early?

I’m thinking about the idea of ownership within marriage. I’m thinking of the novelty of calling you “mine” and you calling me yours, belonging to each other. I won’t just be my own self, you won’t be yours. Won’t that be a fun idea to wake up to? Looking at you lying by my side, realizing you’re mine, and I’m yours? I always loved Celine Dion’s Power of Love, singing “I’m your lady and you are my man.”

I’m thinking about the times when you’ll do things that lovingly, that no human being would normally do for another, and your only excuse will be “Because he’s my husband.” That kind of loyalty and love , even if only imagined, fills me to the brim with joyful anticipation and value.

I’m thinking about all those silly little things you’ll do that will make me fall in love with you all over again. Flattening your lips to apply chap stick. Laughing. All the organic foods you might introduce to my diet, all the candles and shampoos you’ll use. The times when you’ll fix your hair, or laughingly lick that piece of food off the corner of your mouth that I pointed out to you.

Maybe I’m trying to figure you out too much. Maybe I need to let you retain that beautiful feminine mystique.

What else can I do when you aren’t here?

I give you all my fondest thoughts, warmest regards and gentle smiles tonight, my dear…wrapped up in my unending love.

Yours,
Beren

October 20, 2012 Posted by | Anticipation, Loneliness, Nights Like These, Sundry Thoughts, Who I Need You To Be | Leave a comment

Let’s Talk About the Honeymoon

“What raging fire shall flood the soul!
What rich desire unlocks its door;
What sweet seduction lies before us!
When will the blood begin to race 
The sleeping bud burst into bloom 
When will the flames at last consume us?”

-Andrew Lloyd Webber

Dear Darling,

What comes to your mind when you think about your honeymoon? Where do you want to go, what images fill your head?

I had a friend tell me once, don’t go anywhere exciting and fun! You might wind up not even leaving the hotel room.

Tell me…are you the sort of woman that yearns for the day of consummation, when you will take your husband into your arms and make him your own? Are you desperately aching to retire the shackles of restraint and self-discipline and begin soaring? Do you ever have times when you cannot wait to make love, early, often and with great vigor?

My fiery darling, if that describes you, then…I’m your man.

I don’t think I’ve ever been as aware of sexuality as I am now. Of how it pervades society…of how it motivates and drives people. Of how it drives me. It’s the engine that keeps on revving in the motor car that must stay parked. It’s that sacred fire, sequestered deep inside, radiating endless heat to every pore of my body. It’s the unbidden urges, the ravenous craving for a warm body to embrace. It’s a beast, a raging, voraciously hungry animal. I have to crack a whip to bring it into line. That’s good for you, if making love early and often is something you relish. But it’s not good for me. Not now. I love that beast. It’s part of me. It IS me. But it can’t make the rules. I must be the master, force him back into the cage, because he doesn’t belong outside of it until the due time.

To be honest, sometimes it’s hard to remember that due time will ever come. It’s hard to have faith that one day I’ll go running down to that cage, smash the lock and fling open the door. He’ll be set free at last. I’ll be free. We’ll be free. And then everything forbidden and taboo will become not just permissible but mandatory! We’ll be free, free to burn in the white-hot inferno of love, to dance in the blaze of our primal, pure pent-up passion for each other. I’m zealous that we should share this only with each other; you know this. I desperately hope you will be speechlessly proud of me for saying no when my body demanded otherwise, and make me speechlessly proud of you for waiting. And yet, I hope that you will expect no lesser standard.

And what will that look like, Darling? Can you imagine? Can either of us even begin to envision the strain and cravings building up to the days before our wedding? (By the way, should we have a long engagement or a short one?) Two weeks to go? One week? What about that last night, each of us going to bed alone, sending some last goodnight texts and thinking “last night alone, forever”? I don’t know if I’ll even sleep. Not one wink. But that’s okay…because I doubt either of us will the night which follows.

When morning arrives, I have a hunch I’ll absolutely fly out of bed. I might flit around the room before hovering downstairs for breakfast. Maybe you’ll have beat me to awakening and will have sent me a good-morning text. (But no, the old tradition is not to see the bride before the wedding. I think we must agree not even to communicate!)

Imagine it: thoughts and butterflies and nerves all whirling and flashing about in dizzying haste, life slowing down and speeding up at the same time, heart racing as the ceremony commences. As you walk down the aisle all in white. Faces will be looking, music will be playing. I’m sure somewhere in the back of my mind, angels will be singing. We’ll say our I-do’s. There’ll be a kiss. We’ll greet the guests, eat the food, dance the dances. The sun will set. The hour to depart will draw nigh. We’ll hop into our JUST MARRIED car and take off.

But where?

Well Darling, of course you’ll have a say in that. But I’ve got Plans. Ohhhh yes, do I have plans!

I don’t think either of us will want to travel a great distance that night. As much as I’d love to take you through an airport security checkpoint with your gown on, show you off, let the entire airplane applaud us, I don’t think either of us will have that energy. So let’s stop at a hotel for the night and save the travel for the next day.

Can you imagine checking in at the front desk, the clerk giving us a wry smile with our room keys, and we two trying to keep poker faces as we head up in the elevator, stealing kisses the whole way? Hmm. I think I just decided we should get a private lodge or house somewhere rather than a hotel room. Yep. Definitely. One of those chalets in Gatlinburg, I should think. First thing inside the door, I’d say it would be time for some record-breaking kisses.

Will we want food? I think my stomach will just grin, give me the thumbs-up and say “to heck with dinner.”

Knowing me, I think I’ll be terrified it’s a dream and I might wake up. I might need pinching. (Maybe you’ll oblige me.) I think I’ll have that feeling of my gut dropping out, the gasping, gaping “this is finally for real.”

I suppose we’ll both need to shower?

We’ll both be nervous as anything. But I want you to know something right now. I may be a virgin’s virgin, but I’m not uninformed. I’ve done a little homework. I know the first time is often painful for women, and that men have a reputation for giving reign to instinct, turning into hormone-fused time-bombs that ignite too early and leave their partner disappointed. I want to be among the first men who prioritized their wives before themselves…one of the few guys who anticipated the problem and averted it. I want to go slow and let us both savor the moment.

“At the door of every bridal bedchamber, an angel stands, smiling, with a finger to his lips.”

Ah, and the morning after! If we even sleep at all, to wake up in each other’s arms, as the sun spills on the sheets and the birds sing, and we both arise, forever changed.

But what about that travel I mentioned? Darling, how does a private island sound?

How about an abandoned beach house, miles of uninhabited beachline and open ocean sound? We can dance like no one is looking, explore our temporary tropical paradise (and each other) together, and make love on the beach as the sun sets. We can go swimming in the ocean as the moonlight dances off the water, build fires on the beach, kiss each other madly as the tropic rains thunder down, watch the sun rise, go boating in the open ocean.

We will give each other wholly and completely to ourselves. We can share our secrets far from civilization where no one can hear. We’ll share our innermost thoughts. I’ll haul out the chest of letters that I’ve been saving for you, years of them, for us to go through.

It will be a honeymoon of great renown. We’ll remember it for years. You’ll be breathless to tell about it, your friends will be amazed.

I hope this indicates the kind of life I hope to build with you. I hope we’ll have the best relationship we can’t ever talk about. I hope you’re as hungry and eager as I am. I hope we’ll turn each other on effortlessly…that you’ll read the smolder in my eyes, and dare me with come-hither looks, even years later.

Let’s never allow the spark to die.

Now of course, all these plans may unravel. They say never to expect the perfect wedding day because nothing is ever perfect. The cake could be ruined, it might rain, the candles might set the drapes on fire, the dog could wet on your dress. The world could be tumultuous, the flight may be delayed, there might be war. One of us could be sick, or we could both wind up a little awkward, annoyed and unfulfilled on our wedding night. We won’t let the possibility of failure prevent us from striving for success.

And to think! These red-lettered days may only lie nestled among the next year or two of our lives!

I could go further. I think my meager gift of words might just be enough to arouse your desire and your passion for your husband like never before. But a knight and gentleman would not broadcast such things publicly. To do so would be unwise, imprudent and unkind. Discretion bids us close the lid on this box of wonders and speak no more of it until the due time. Love must not be awakened prematurely.

But oh darling….what a lovely way to burn.

-Beren

October 14, 2012 Posted by | Anticipation, Our Timeline, Our Wedding, Purity, Things Other Guys Won't Do | 5 Comments