a wedding dress

you and i danced once

creating our own music as the stars bore witness to our sadness

momentarily forgetting the pile of expectations we made for each other

a paper mache house 

destined to collapse

I slipped on my wedding gown and danced with you barefoot across the linoleum

i tried every excuse to stay with you

you were the only real thing i knew

but I received a calling that made me choose

and no amount of adhesive could turn this tissue into brick

so we danced together that last night

both pretending the ending would never come

it’s been two years and i still can’t step into our old restaurant

or walk past the bench where you first admitted you loved me

i tried relationships on like band-aids, but now as i begin this process of exchanging dreams, it’s as if I’m saying good-bye to you for the first time

as i trade our wedding dress for an eternal promise, i have faith we’ll dance again someday

Emily

Lately, I have been wondering if I am too independent.  I like being alone many times, but then there are times when I really do just want to be with someone who knows my heart like God does, and who knows the words to speak to cast out the demons that occasionally invade my thoughts. Last year, I grew close to an exchange student from England named Emily… Emily and I clicked quickly.  I’m still not sure why exactly… God put kindred spirits in us, I suppose.  Both of us hungered for independence (our love language was not quality time), but we both still needed to feel the love of Christ through words and actions.

Every week we met and read through the book of John together.. and we would study (independently in the same place..) on weekends.  We even would just drive in silence from time to time.  From laughter to silence to tears, our hearts were open and authentic.

Today, I’m really missing her.  It’s a day of feeling not-quite-so-independent as normal.

clumsy wings

clumsy butterfly

wet new wings wrestle the air

it’s hard to feign strength against the tempest

i find myself missing something that i never had

but too scared to consider the commitments I never made

or worse, the ones I abandoned with the green leaves

the world I knew, but it never knew me

a few spider webs plucked at my heart strings

but these clumsy wings only know freedom

shhh

Love tiptoes in while you’re asleep

simply to sweep the wayward tears from your pillow

and sit by your bedside

all day it has been separated by the glass barricade you have constructed

beveled glass

you think you are seeing her but it’s only a manipulation of the truth

the bride still hidden beneath her veil

you imitate her beauty in vain attempts for freedom

but you have boxed yourself in lies

She can blow them down with a gentle breath of truth

if you let her

or you can stain your pillow with unattainable illusions

red balloons

Once upon a time there was a little girl holding hundreds of red balloons… she grasped so many balloons that they fought against the forces of gravity and lifted her small body.  She dangled delicately above the earth, a splash of red against the blue tapestry of the sky.  Her heart delighted in the world beneath her, a collage of vibrant colors, a sea of life-  greens fading into blues and purples- hues of light beyond appellation.  A divine symphony of life radiated from the ground.  Her heart strings danced to the rhythm of the earth’s melody, mingling with the hundreds of balloon ribbons. 

Sometimes I visit her up in the heavens, cradled by her faith in the red balloons, humbled by the world’s beauty- the radiance which is forgotten with proximity. 

Tonight, as I sit in my car on Monument Avenue, I feel as if I am waiting for something that is never going to come.  A nostalgic anticipation for a feeling I once knew; however the red balloons which represented the vehicle to this sensation have been deflated by fears and doubts- thousands of little pinholes in the latex skin of misplaced faith.

I feel close to God, yet far away from where I should be.  Discontent and restless, I am absorbed into the viscous river of my thoughts, as I utter emotional words to my celestial husband.  A wayward thought heeds the passersby and traffic to my left, but I am reminded that I am only a guest in a strange land- thus I am not bound to the fetters of their transitory fashions and acceptable conducts.

The clock reads 12:34am, but my heart reads eternity.

My soul is aching.  I find myself striving, binding myself to the familiar shackles of worry and mundane appeasement- a vanity which reaches deeper than the external; it sinks its fishing hook into the heart, rotting flesh from the inside out.

You died for my freedom; You died to be my red balloons… so what am I doing here, tying my shoelaces to the ground?

of petunias and corner street bins

Too frequently, I permit my thoughts about my future husband to wander around my mind unharnessed, and many times my mood becomes tainted by loneliness and doubt.  A single thought tiptoes from the subconscious to the conscious, and soon the eloquent melodies of my heart’s strings are transposed to a minor key. 

Tonight, after dropping off Titanna, Ernisha, and Diana back in Church Hill, a wayward thought shoved its way to the forefront of my mind as I was worshiping along with Tenth Avenue North on the radio. 

As a Disclaimer:

I am so thankful to Christ for the ways He has romanced me over the past two years; He has slowly given me more gratitude for the gift of singleness, and even excitement for His future plans for me which benefit from my exclusive fidelity to Him.  He has slowly dampened my passion for a companion, and kindled in its place passions towards injustice issues which break His heart (and now mine as well).

Yet, regardless, my desire for a husband whispers somewhere inside, and the Adversary loves to dangle this yet-to-be-satisfied desire before my mind as a justification for fear, doubt and insecurity.  Tonight, I allowed my mind to wrestle with these fears, instead of allowing Christ to captivate my attention.  I began to feel discouraged.  I started driving aimlessly around Church Hill feeling sorry for myself and coveting other relationships… other plans that Christ had tailored for other hearts.

Finally, I determined that I just needed to return to my apartment on Grace and fall asleep…  That’s how Satan attempts to prolong my negative mood over a period of days- instead of allowing Christ to speak truth over the lies through prayer and a study of His love note to me, I shut down in a sea of negativity.

Tonight, Christ took up His cross once more for me.

As I waited impatiently at a red light on Broad, something on the left hand side of the road caught my attention..  Springing up between cobblestones on the sidewalk, nearly thirty petunias added a splash of color around a garbage bin.  There were a few other petunias that had clearly delighted upon the same idea, and fought their way through the cracked bricks only to be trampled by pedestrians.  Yet this group of thirty or so flowers had found sanctuary in the shade of this garbage pale.

I looked at the flowers for a moment, and I could hear Christ saying to my heart, “These are for you, my love.”  Jesus knew the thoughts that were poisoning my joy, and He longed to restore me once more.  I pulled off the road, got out of my car, and started picking flowers.  With each flower, He spoke a new promise concerning His unfailing love for me, and His desire for my company in eternity.

This is for every young woman who has grappled with seasons of loneliness— Jesus desires to give you bouquets, and romance you as only He can.

Jeremiah 31:3

Isaiah 54:5

Song of Songs 4:7

you are desperately desired