Letters to Luthien

Letters to My Future Bride

Consecrating the New Year

The Vigil exhibited 1884 by John Pettie 1839-1893Dearest,

What do the Bible, a pistol, a match, a pen, a stethoscope, a phone and a handful of salt have in common? Each of these seven items represents what my life has been, what it will be, and what I hope it will be. And as I knelt by the bed, a candlelit prayer to consecrate this year to the Almighty, I spread each of these out to remind me.

The Bible: that the word and will of God would be ever before me in all that I do. I have been less than diligent as a warrior in the service of the King to read and apply it to my life. This new year must be different.

A pistol: that I may always be prepared to defend that which is holy, pure and precious, a modern day knight’s sword with which to protect and defend, and that I may never need draw or use it, and if I did that God would be with each involved.

A match: that I may be light and heat to all that are brought across my path. A match burns for but a short time before being extinguished. Our lives are the same, although we realize too late how fleeting is our time on earth. In that span, we may spread that flame to others, or for a moment brighten an entire room. I would that my life would burn, be consumed if necessary, to furnish sufficient light to illumine the Cross. I pray that I may bring someone to the kingdom this year, and maybe many someones.

A pen: that my words may continue to be used to spread truth, and that God may bless them with love and mercy, qualities which I admit are often lacking in my determination to stand for truth. God has given me a gift of eloquence at times, and the opportunity to be compensated.

A stethoscope: that God would continue to bless my career in medicine, to grow in knowledge and skill to be a safe and proficient healer, and to listen to the voices and hearts of others when they turn to me for help.

A phone: that I may be a friend and brother to all who need me, to seek knowledge…and to stop using it so much when it’s unnecessary.

Salt: to be a flavor and a savor in my conversation; to season it with wisdom from above, and to preserve.

My dear, and all who come hereafter to read these words, take courage and hope for this new year. All things are in the Father’s hands, and even that which seems ill can redound to carry out His greater plan. I greatly encourage you to think of the things which characterize your life, past, present and what you hope it to be. Remember them. Lay them out before God and thank Him for His blessings in those areas, ask His blessing and guidance in those areas in times yet to come.

My darling, I wish you a brave, joyous and prosperous new year. May this year be the year all your wishes come true, and may you and I, whether apart or together, strive to better ourselves to serve the Lord, each other and others.

Love always,
Beren

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January 1, 2014 Posted by | Holidays | , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Patiently Pacing

Dear Darling,

I believe everyone processes and reacts to events and emotions on different levels. There is a primary response, ┬áthat which is reflexive and impulsive, emotionally autonomic if you will. (Don’t be offended my dear, but in my experience, it is on this level that the female of the human race typically dwells.) There is a secondary level of response, that of analysis and reasoning, a more complex process of thinking and feeling and responding. However, it occurred to me today that my level of response seems to take place at a tertiary level, a blend of observing and reacting, but to the secondary level of response, and its peculiarities. In other words, “I seem to be feeling upset. How queer.” An analysis of the analysis.

So for example, after having worked a shift today as a favor to a friend, I get some take-home Mexican food (it’s not often I eat out, much less drive thru or order pizza) and make some notes for a radio appearance tomorrow. Ultimately, tonight I found myself pacing back and forth, feeling squirrely and restless; incomplete. It’s as if I had cabin fever, which of course isn’t the case. I like having the house to myself, but I do tend to go a bit nonlinear without human company.

This built-up of kinetic sentiment comes from frustrated analysis of how a day’s events impact me. It’s from missing the companionship I enjoyed over the summer. It’s from reading that another friend, with whom I once shared the same trajectory of life, is now expecting a baby. It’s from missing you. It’s from wishing things were different. In short, it’s from all the reasons that play into my everyday life. Engagements and pregnancies are commonplace these days, and while I’ll never get used to missing you, the sensation isn’t foreign.

So it seems in this tertiary process of observing the observation of the response, sometimes it takes a while, and sometimes it builds up. Being fairly adaptable to circumstances doesn’t help. (Heaven forbid either of my parents to be called home to be with the Lord, I know I would be too consumed with the responsibilities necessary to grieve.)

Just one more piece in the puzzle that we’re both trying to solve.

Yes, I’ll be on the radio again tomorrow. Of course, I can’t tell you where. It’s a local station, only for an hour. The host and I have formed a distant, amicable acquaintanceship. I didn’t expect the invitation, but it’s an excellent way to close out the old year.

God keeps creating opportunities for us to trust Him, and He’s creating another one for me now. In less than a fortnight, your Beren will be homeless. I’ve not yet found new living arrangements. (Rather than rooming off of a cottage, I’d be charmed to find a castle in need of a guard or two.) I suppose I should be worried about it. But I’m not. Our Lord has always looked after me; He won’t stop now.

And yes, I miss you still tonight, Darling. That old familiar desire came back, the desire to pick up the phone and call anyone who wanted to catch up. To scroll through a list of thoughts and interests strewn across a Facebook profile. (I use mine too much, and will try to scale back in this coming year.) I know it’s not your fault you aren’t here for me. But the end result is the same, so it’s hard. I don’t have any sensational New Years plans. If you were here, I would find us both a dance to attend, something formal and special and wonderful to ring in the new year…with kisses withheld until midnight, the strike of which would be rung in with plentiful kissing and embracing — in token of the hope we both share for the new year.

Hold on tight, my dear. I have a good feeling about this year.

Until then, you might just find me patiently pacing across the hands of a clock as it counts down the hours…the waning of the year, of my time in this house, and the time remaining until our meeting.

I will be patient forever if necessary.

Love,
Beren

December 31, 2013 Posted by | About Me, Holidays, Loneliness | , , , , , , | Leave a comment