Only precious things
Unexpectedly, she came back into my life. There she was, at my door, and I welcomed her in. We talked. My heart throbbed with excitement. There she is, Joshua, the one you love! Right in front of you!
Being with her felt natural, like she'd always been there, like she would always be there. Like a part of me was returned or made whole. She just made sense. My favorite memories with her were simple ones: walking, talking, sometimes with Brutus (the cheagle) and my son. There was the walk we took one summer day at a recreation area outside town. It felt like the rightest thing in the world to be with her.
It may sound strange, what I'm about to say, but it's true. I love the arrangement of her features. Her face and all its parts. Her body and how it's put together. I can't see inside, but I saw the outworking of its parts, and she is as beautiful inside as out. Her heart is my favorite feature.
The heart of that woman is precious. She displays a humility before the Lord, a desire to do what's right, a great love for all those around her, a selflessness and strength and grace that's rare in this world. What motivates her makes her special to me.
She's rare. Not just her green eyes. All of her. A rare and precious woman. Others may not see what I see, and that's their loss. She's made of only precious things.
Her voice is as I always remembered. It's so familiar it puts me instantly at ease. Indeed, we grew up together. A woman's voice should be a favorite feature, too, because, if you spend your life with her, you're going to hear it a lot. It should be something you adore, just as her smile is something you hope to see the rest of your days. If you love a woman's smile, you'll do anything to see it.
I said so much about her, it's almost embarrassing. My love for her knew no bounds. I would have gone to the end of the world for her. Captured the moon and laid it at her feet. Endured any pain. Broken every barrier. Carried her with me if I had to, right into the future. I know my love wasn't enough, and that's okay. I loved anyway, and with abandon. A man should respect the woman he loves, and I did. She was always special to me.
What makes a man tick? Something has to drive him. Attaining her drove me through many barren years. She made me happy, just knowing she was out there. It made sense she should be mine. After all, who better for her to be with than the man who loved her so much? Now I see that level of affection scared her, as she thought she had to somehow match it, which I never asked nor expected. I just wanted to love her the rest of my life, if she'd let me. It seemed like such a simple request, but a woman's heart is a complicated thing. I wanted to be good enough for a woman like her. Wanted her to simply be happy. She's the best, and I wanted to be the best for her. I loved the best way, which is completely, unconditionally, and without reserve. Maybe her heart moved on years ago. Maybe she still has feelings. Maybe we're done, or maybe we're yet to come. All I know is I loved her and we tried to move forward. And now it's all in God's hands.
I don't know how long I will keep loving her. Maybe as long as I exist. Perhaps feelings will attenuate, as I am human and finite, after all. It's been many years, and she's still the only one I want. (If there was a song that described how I felt all those years, it was this.) Only reluctantly and with sorrow can I contemplate any other outcome. I understand having a woman is different from chasing her. Chasing is exciting. Having is boring, by comparison. I wanted the having. The day in and day out. The ordinary. In sickness and in health. Richer or poorer. Whatever life brings.
I fell in love with her years ago, and after our very brief friendship ended. Why then, you ask? Because we had small conversations until we stopped talking. In those conversations, I saw her heart. She had no reason to impress me or anything else. It was just her — real and raw and beautiful. I fell in love with her when she wasn't even looking, didn't care, and didn't want me. I wished for a woman like her, then realized there was no other like her, so wished for her. I got to be her friend many years later, which reminded me why I fell in love. She is that person I depicted on these many embarrassing pages where I spread my heart out for the world to see. I loved her fiercely. I loved her through the lack of her. I loved her through wishing and wondering and waiting. And I regret nothing — because she is made of only precious things.
Thank you for reading. And God bless.
Christian blog: a-better-hope.blogspot.com
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