Me: A voice for the voiceless.
Your turn…
If you know the last line of that jingle consider yourself one of my favorite people. Yes, our relationship just hit a new level that quickly. If not, that’s okay. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Some people just walk in the light.
Anyhow, let’s get back to business. Love and marriage.
I feel like the subject has found its way into about 85% of my conversations in just the past year and a half or so. And I blame myself (in part) and every one else (equally in part). But with that said, I’d like to just nail a few things in the ground and call it day. I love love. Especially the love between a man and woman. Hope to experience the real thing one day. And marriage, against all odds and in spite all attempts to demolish my every desire, whim, and inkling to enter into such a commitment, I actually believe can be a truly holy matrimony and everything that the human heart hopes it to be. AND (believe it or not) I can quite possibly see myself stepping into that kind of a covenant relationship…eventually.
So now that the cat’s out of the bag…
Let us love—not because it’s expected of us to pair off and make miniature versions of ourselves. Or because we’re scared to be alone (those tend to be the hidden hype behind some unions). Rather let’s gather up our baggage—our daddy issues, fear of commitment, and everything in between—and strip it of all its power to define us. And with that, love and let love. Breathe in. Breathe out. And simply say “come what may…what a beautiful life given me and what great adventure surrounds and awaits”.
So I got pretty sick this week (yep Christmas week), probably near as bad as my duel with swine flu my sophomore year of college, and you know what? It taught me something. Sometimes when you just keep going, knowing full well that you should probably settle down, if you’re not careful you’ll get metaphorically punched in the face by something unexpected and you’ll HAVE to stop…at least for a day or so and lick your wounds. So, that said, I got a figurative shiner and had to befriend my bed sheets for a few days. It was far from how I would have chosen to spend my post Christmas holiday, but it gave me some good time to just be, to let people take care of me, and to remind myself of the beauty found in weakness—the blessing of pure dependency.
P.S. If I was a jerk some of the time, I’m sorry. I was processing and fighting the independent woman in me…and a virus that found its way into my cellular proliferation. :)
Never thought I’d grow to love these city lights…the fast paced life—structure and chaos at its finest. But I do.
Don’t get me wrong. I often pray I can steal away to some carefree riverbed or a weekend surrounded by mountain peaks with some other longing soul. And maybe one day I will call that place home too, but for now these city lights will do. Here it’s easy to get lost…to walk into a coffee shop and have no one know your name. And I guess I don’t quite mind. It makes being found all the more surprising…all the more meaningful. In the city, strangers become friends, and friends become family. Well, that’s been my experience I suppose.
Sometimes I wish my dad had a son—someone he could carry the weight of leading a family with…someone he could teach the ways of a man. Of course this son wouldn’t come out of the womb ready to conquer, but he’d learn. He’d learn to carry the same mantel my dad does. He’d learn to provide and protect, and he’d do it well because he’d have a good teacher—a really good teacher. My dad’s not perfect, but there are certain things he definitely does right. I’m lucky to have him.
