Letters to Luthien

Letters to My Future Bride

If That Were Us

DancingDear Darling,

May I have this dance?

I told you I don’t do a lot of things for my own sheer pleasure, but this outdoor jazz concert series is one of them. They’re playing All of Me, and Stardust and In the Mood…the sounds of our grandparents’ generation. This is classic and classy; art with a melody breathed into it. Musical history come alive. Music let us say the things with song that we might not say with words, and in these tunes are many of the things I’d like to say, or have already written you.

It’s a quaint amphitheater, not as much amph to it as the name suggests, but the saxophones and trumpets are in full force in the light of a setting sun, and there are several couples and a handful of children dancing by the stage.

There’s maybe a hundred here, but it’s mostly older couples, with some younger couples who bring children. So far as I can see in scanning the crowd, I’m the only one flying solo. Some of the parents are younger than me, but look older, as though having children made them grow into parents.

If that were us, we’d have brought camping chairs because you know my long legs don’t fold up well under me when sitting on the ground. We’d have stopped somewhere to eat before coming, or we would have brought dinner here.

If this were us, we’d have a steady appointment with frozen yogurt after the music ends. That Golden Retriever over there? That could be ours. Our children would be the ones running around the grounds, dancing in a circle down by the stage.

If that were us, I’d invite you to join me in faking our way through a dance or two.

If that were us, I might be playing catch with our son like that dad is. Our child might be the mischievous one whose father grabs him just before he sneaks backstage. You might be the woman leaning on one arm and looking with affection at her man laying beside her, like that woman is doing.

We might be like that older couple that just got up to dance. His hair looks like it came from the 70’s but he knows his moves and clearly enjoys them. I creep down front and snapped the picture of them as the sun set. That’s them that you see above. I approached them afterward to compliment them and send them the picture.

I wish I could describe it better to you. The vendors. The rhythms. The faces of people enjoying the simple pleasures rather than plugging in to the television. But you have to be there.

It could be us. It will be us. Some day.

I think I found our first dance song by the way, if you’re in agreement. Etta James’ At Last

It started to rain as I headed out to walk tonight. As the skies emptied, my heart felt just a little more full, and I couldn’t hide the broad smile, soaked though I was. You know I love a good storm, and walking in it made me realize that along with things rare and old that please me, it’s often the simple things that suffice. Some simple jazz songs and a rainstorm are enough to rest my heart in the belief that our days are coming, and may be closer than either one of us dares hope.

Yours,
Beren

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June 4, 2014 Posted by | Nights Like These, Our Timeline, Our Wedding | , , , , | Leave a comment

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

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

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

In Anticipation of…Rings

Dear Darling,

I’ve never worn much jewelry. Men are into that sort of thing nowadays, aren’t they. It’s the “metrosexual” thing. A silver bracelet, or a cross necklace, maybe a bead or charm band or a ring of some sort?

I’ve never done any of that. You know me well enough by now to know there’s more retro than metro to my sexual.

That’s why wearing a ring is just another facet of this alien experience called love. I know one of these days you’re going to pick out a golden band to put on my finger, something that I’ll wear forever. It will become part of my life, my DNA. It will clink against water glasses I sip from, channel the winter’s chill, reflect an afternoon sunset. It will be just a small taste of you I carry forever bound around my finger.

I hope I don’t wind up fidgeting with it, at least not in such a way that I remove it or dishonor it. I’ll have that little gold circlet as an emblem of your love until I die. And beyond. I may not be able to take it to heaven with me, but they can bury me in it. Unless you remain and wish to keep it, in which case you may by all means do so.

And I’ll buy you a ring. Here’s something you may not yet know about me Darling, but I used to work at a jewelry counter. Oh yes, with precious, valuable and fine diamonds, pearls and rings of every kind! I held up rings to a loupe to examine the sparkle, cut and clarity, though I was by no means an estimator of value. Many of the rings were overpriced, and many were set at a decent price and still beyond my means. But one of these days, I’ll pick out one of those priceless (and yet, all too-priced) rings for you — though gladly — as a symbol of our unity.

Will you like the traditional gold and diamond? Would you prefer something different and unique? I hope you have some in mind Darling, because how will I ever pick among the choices offered? I suspect you will be happy to give me hints as the doubt gives way to clarity. I’ll do my best to honor you with my choice, and I’m sure you’ll pretend to love it even if you don’t. Maybe you’ll like it just because of what it represents. Anyway, it won’t be a cheap ring, and it won’t be anything to make you ashamed to show your family and friends. I’m sure it will hear its fair share of cooing and squealing.

Oh, but there’s two rings, aren’t there? The engagement ring is the fancy one, and the wedding ring is of plainer gold? And this carried gingerly on a pillow by a flower girl down the aisle.

“With this ring, I thee wed.”

Does it sound archaic to you? I’m quite fond of archaic, you know. “The old that is strong does not whither, deep roots are not reached by the frost.”

What powerful symbolism and imagery these rings are…adornments of significance, almost as if we brand one another and claim each other as our own.

I don’t mind wearing your brand in the least, and I rather prefer to be called your own, if I in turn may call you mine.

Until then, I remain

Forever yours,
Beren

June 13, 2012 Posted by | Anticipation, Our Wedding | Leave a comment

Strange and Sundry Thoughts

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

Dear Darling,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Always,
Beren

June 7, 2012 Posted by | Loneliness, Nights Like These, Our Wedding, Purity | 1 Comment

In Anticipation of…Walking With You

Dear Darling,

So the other night I wrote about my long walks in the dark, and my anticipation of one day sharing them with you. Then I got to thinking about all the different walks we’re going to take.

We’ve got lots of them ahead of us…we’re going to go everywhere together.

It’s going to start with one walk in particular. You’re going to be wearing a beautiful white gown. I’ll be in a tuxedo hearing that glorious music heralding your arrival. I might be grinning like an idiot, or crying like a fool, but either way, I wouldn’t assume I’ll be big on composure.

It’s going to be your last walk alone. You’ll finally reach the end, and put your arm in mine….never to part.

We’ll turn and face our family and friends as they announce our new names and life together, and we’ll walk down the aisle as husband and wife. We’ll walk — run, really — from the rice being thrown at us (why do they do that anyway? Doesn’t matter, I still like the idea) and head off into our sunset.

Why, we might even find time to walk together on our honeymoon! But even afterwards, as the road of life we’re on rises up to meet us, we’ll have a lot of walking to do.

We’re going to hike mountain trails on vacations far and near. We’re going to go strolling down neighborhood sidewalks or rural driveways together.

We’ll drive down moonlit country roads and find a stream to walk beside. We’ll hike back into the woods, in and among tall cedar forests at dusk. Maybe we’ll find a secluded lake or pool and go skinny dipping. (I dare you!)

Let’s do the long walk on the beach too. Let’s curl up together and watch the moon come up glimmering over the water.

We’ll go walking on silent snowy nights. We’ll walk arm and arm through the grocery and the mall together. I’ll have my arm around you and pulling you close as we leave the movies, and I’ll hate to let go of you even when it makes our steps awkward and uneven.

We’ll walk through the valley of the shadow of death.

We’ll walk side by side through the days, weeks, months and years to come, on our way to growing old together.

Right now it feels more like a marathon, and I the exhausted runner. The finish line here is invisible. Hope flickers and fades at times, and it’s difficult to see the wounds of others and to know they are not mine to bind up.

But I’ll keep walking. Or running. Or crawling. Over broken glass if I have to. I know you’re there at the finish line, and wherever that is, no prize could be greater.

Love always,
-Beren

May 22, 2012 Posted by | Anticipation, Our Wedding | Leave a comment

In Anticipation of…Our First Dance

I stumbled across this link last night. It’s a website full of song suggestions for first dances at weddings.

Awesome.

I’ve always been attracted to dancing — ballroom/couples — but mostly as an activity (like so many others) for which to wait on you. What’s the point of dancing with anyone else…even an instructor? I’d rather learn with you, even if I’m not the world’s greatest dancer.

By now you may have figured out that I really like making everything picturesque and iconic. Guilty. I think it’s a gift for everyone. And to be honest, I’m used to people looking at me to set an example. So, I like to set a really good one. But I really hope we do get a chance to just get lost in the moment, wrapped up in each other’s arms, savoring the words, the sights, the sounds, the feelings…poised on that golden step of the archway to forever together.

I see a lot of songs in there I know. I can close my eyes and see us slowly sashaying around the floor, doing the slow-dance to some of them. I think the cool part will be our parents. Assuming both our mothers and fathers will still be alive at our wedding, how long do you think it’s been since they’ve danced with each other? Maybe we’ll help them relive their wedding.

And for our siblings and friends? Maybe we’ll get a chance to give them their first dance. Maybe we’ll even help one or two of them find a dancing partner for life. Our wedding will be a chance to bless a ton of people!

Anyway, look through that song list when you get a chance, dear. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to pick and plan, but it’s fun to contemplate.

February 21, 2012 Posted by | Anticipation, Our Wedding | 1 Comment