A night on the moor

I slept, but my heart was awake.

A sound! My beloved is knocking.

“Open to me, my sister, my love,

my dove, my perfect one,

for my head is wet with dew,

my locks with the drops of the night.”

I had put off my garment;

how could I put it on?

I had bathed my feet;

how could I soil them?

My beloved put his hand to the latch,

and my heart was thrilled within me.

I arose to open to my beloved,

and my hands dripped with myrrh,

my fingers with liquid myrrh,

on the handles of the bolt.

I opened to my beloved,

but my beloved had turned and gone.

My soul failed me when he spoke.

I sought him, but found him not;

I called him, but he gave no answer.

The watchmen found me
as they went about in the city;
they beat me, they bruised me,
they took away my veil,
those watchmen of the walls.

I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem,
if you find my beloved,
that you tell him
I am sick with love.



S.O.S. 5

Cuddle Weather

Under your arms, sir.

That's where I find my rest.  Be it the breaking of day, after your long and unending battle against fire, illness, and lack of sleep.
Or after we are through with the gym, both sweaty and quite a mess.
Maybe in the winter, in the snow, in far-off places and open Northern skies and low Fahrenheit so foreign to our Texas-born love.
Or in Summer, when it's too hot to hold hands in the back of your truck at the drive-in.

My place, my point of being, my life -
When I can finally breathe again, and forget the rest of the world's noise
And calm my own breath to the steady beat of your heart,
Astounded by the simplest things.  Coffee in the morning, shelves full of unread books, little kitty paw-pads outside my bedroom door, mass on Sundays, and your arms...

Always returning there.  Your arms, sir.
My arms.

Golden Flicker

I am at peace tonight.

My room is candle-lit, with a few twinkle lights behind my four poster bed.  It drips with romance, with hope, with the songs the new year is just learning to sing.

I am in love.

Deeply, passionately in love.
This love drives me onward to betterment, with eyes towards heaven.
This love comforts me.  It dries my tears.  It is a tea and books in the rainy afternoon sort of love.  It fits me.  It suits me.

Jesus has opened His heart and shown me Christopher.
He's opened His arms and given me Christopher to hold me.
He's held out His hand as Christopher has walked with me, hand-in-hand, through these days and into His Church.  Just like I prayed for years ago.

What a beautiful, grand, messy life I have.  What a friend I have in Jesus.
What a kind, gentle, cheeky lover I have.
Well met, sir.

The reasons we aren't married at 35 - Part 2

Idle Tears by Edward Robert Hughes (English, 1851–1914)

At the same time, blessing of blessings, He also gave me a man.  Oh, such a man.  A man I would never be worthy of in a million years.  A man full of intellect, and wit, and kindness, and sweetness, and gentleness.  And so handsome and pleasant to look at, and strong times a million.  But a sinner like me...we are so much alike!  We have both light and darkness and are aware.

And now these same things bite at my heels.  From years of changing, years of fear and wanting, longing and sins.  Years of war in my heart.  I am laid waste in many ways, while Jesus builds me up.  I wish I had more to offer him than a 35 year old heart which has been torn to shreds in every direction.  I am angry.  I felt like I had so much to give at the tender ages...18, 19, 20...before anger set in.  Before my parents divorced.  Before I was taken up by so many things.

But Jesus said I am His girl.

Do I trust Jesus with my soul but not my heart?
Can Jesus pull me out of Utah and folly and depression, but not pull me into Chris' arms?  My struggles to come to Jesus and my struggle to come relax into love are so similar.

I feel fully confident in my new-ish relationship.  I absolutely feel that it is meet and right.  It is blessed.  Even heaven-favored, but that's a separate story.  The story of me becoming a Catholic is intricately woven of late into the life of this wonderful man.  Jesus is speaking to me through him, my Christ-Bearer, sanctifying me and giving me hard won graces from His own heart.  He is changing me.

Fairy tales always seem like tragedies if you stop in the middle of the story.
Think about that for a minute.

Being in this amazing love story sometimes feels like being taken to the gym.  It's an awesome place with amenities: a pool and and sauna and free towels.  But you are there to work.  And the work makes you look awesome and feel amazing and be your very best you.  But some days you just wanna sit on the couch and eat Doritos and watch X-Files.

But we are better than that.  Jesus is better than that.  My relationship is better than that.

If I didn't have years of utter baggage behind me, maybe I'd be married by now.
If I had not been so terribly hurt by church, maybe I'd be Catholic by now. (Or Orthodox, or Lutheran, or Southern Baptist, or Presbyterian).
If I had only had a good relationship with a dad, maybe I'd have kids by now.
All of these things make the years seem so empty; such a painful waste.

But we can't live our lives in maybe, just like we can't live our lives in someday.
This is our time. It really is.  It's what we've been given, and what we have.  It's our gift from God.  It's our gift to God.  I'm getting a little better at it, very slowly, about trusting my Jesus with all those somedays and maybes.  I just want Him.

And I want him.  The best him I've known.  I'm a huge fan.  I'm so excited for my life with him.  I'm so excited about where Jesus is taking us, and how we will figure out the details.  It's so good.  Now to just get to that gym every day and not skip #legday.

Seriously though, y'all.  So in love.  We are babies in love, but oh...sweetness!  Kindness and hope are chasing me round.  Hold tight to me, my good sir.

The reasons we aren't married at 35 - Part 1

Nikiphoros Lytras

The Waiting

c.1895

This post is gonna be really honest.  Soul-baring, perhaps.  Maybe I won't post it.  Maybe I'll delete it later.  Who knows.

This past week I turned 35.  I can barely bring myself to type that number.  Part of living in our youth-obsessed culture is shame at being a relatively young "old" age.  Youth is the goal, and pretending to be young is the way we do it.  Memes about forever being cat ladies, eating pizza under a blanket on a Friday night, or dressing up like 19 year olds in mini-skirts and going to clubs at age 40.  Things like that.

We find molds and try our hardest to stuff ourselves into them.
"I'm a poor college student."
"I'm a tired mom."
"I'm a gamer."
"I'm a church girl."

Or, for me, "I'm an actress."

Or more accurately - "I'm an actress, I don't have commitments.  I am young and free.  I won't commit to anything because it makes me freer. So my life is a blank canvas.  I kinda want to belong to a church but am not sure which one so I just visit and float around between them.  I can argue various theological positions and I go with what feels right at the time.  Whatever guy I'm dating at the time is my world.  And when he breaks up with me, or I get sick of him, I recreate my entire world.  I am really nothing except whatever chameleon shade I morph into."

But who am I, really?  Who was I?  Who am I being to become?

I recently left one life for another.
I had morphed into someone that I didn't like.  I was chasing good dreams, but in the wrong way.  I was so depressed and trapped in my own pain and fear that I didn't know how to get away from it.  I drowned myself in my own tears for trying to swim out.  Then, a hand through the pitch black, Jesus himself pulled me out and we started over.  But this time, it was different.

He basically told me that I was His girl, and no more dating.  It was now or never.  We marry...or I was free to not marry Him.  But He told me I'd be so happy with Him and He'd take good care of me and always feed and protect and comfort me.  And LOVE me.  Love me fruitfully.  He never loves anyone without fruit.

So we got engaged.  I started letting Him court me.  Kicking and screaming and full of young loves' tears at times, I let Him love me.  I'd cry when I saw other married couples sharing physical communion, because I had to wait.  And I still wait.  And I still long.  It's so hard seeing people who aren't aware or appreciative of their marriages being able to share each other...while I wait for the okay to share in my Jesus.  But I'm waiting.  And someday soon I'll have my first Confession, Confirmation and First Holy Communion.  My wedding, so to speak.  To Him...I'm already His but I'm waiting.  It seems like forever.

I'm His girl.

He remade me into yet another version of myself, but without a silly man at the center.  HE is at the center.  He is my world, my King, my Love.  I get really really mad at Him sometimes for making me wait and for some of the deputy decisions made by his earthly court.  But I'm HIS, y'all.  Forever.  I don't get to remake myself anymore.  He reminded me that the core parts of me won't change because He put them there.  The virtues He has given me are who I am.  I just have to practice them.

So this is who I am.  I'm so glad to know it, and it won't change.  My church is solid and ready to welcome me.  I'm just waiting like a patient bride.

Future Husbands, Pray for Us!

I just finished reading a silly, fairy tale children's book, and it made me long for him.
Him...whoever he is, if he exists. And if I'm not over romanticizing him. (Which I very well may be, but I'm so jaded in every other aspect of romance that I feel I can allow myself a few silly minutes to dream about his good qualities).

To my future husband:
I freaking miss you. I'm lonely for you. There is nothing more I want right now than to cuddle up into your arms and make you so glad you married me. (I am talking about marriage here...so you can interject any naughty images that brings up, if you want. No shame in it.)
I don't feel like this a lot, and I know it's not unique to just me to feel this way. But right now, I am praying for you. I hope you are praying for me. I could sure use it!

Please pray that I'm strong, that I don't lose hope, that I keep myself pure for you.
Pray that I see a broad picture of the future and don't only focus on myself.
Pray that I will be patient.
Pray that I'll do you good now, even before I know who you are.
Pray for our marriage...that we will be prepared for a wild, difficult ride that will ultimately glorify God.
Pray that I won't be too depressed and let myself become more negative and cynical.
Pray that I'll glorify God now, and not just dream about tomorrow.


I am not always the best future wife, but right now I really want to be.



April 25th, 2009

Lustre

By a crisp December morning
We'll harvest these seeds of love - sown in May
With prayers and tears, and hours on knees
And darkness unfled, nothing unspilled.

You've poured your love on me
Only mixed with breath - Untempered by touch
In prayers collected by a Spring wind
In the mirror of the thoughts of God.

Come with me, love-drunk on a dream!
Run aground this airy flight
And talk of every nothing we can spin
Unrepentant future, unspent.

The night buds have burst
Their scent drowning time like wine
Bashful darkness hides her head in shame
We will shine on till morning.


Oct. 11, 2009