scattered tidbits, thoughts, dreams, etc
I remember the nights that bled into early mornings, quiet moments in the living room where I’d stubbornly refuse to leave the table to relieve my bladder, refill my cup, or reveal my sleepiness to you out of fear that in my moment of absence or silence, you would call it a night, end the conversation and leave. I miss you very much; something tells me you do not feel the same and I have grown to the point where it no longer hurts me. You were more special to me than I was to you; I get it and accept it (with a small ache in my heart) and I’m thankful for your friendship, the parts of your soul you chose to bare to me, the moments you decided to spend with me. It makes me strangely happy to be able to say, “I loved and I lost; I loved and I hurt.” It makes me wonderfully hopeful that even after so, I desire to keep loving.
I think had it not been for Jesus, my heart would have turned to stone a long time ago; no one could have broken through without breaking me. (But, you did, yes you did and I did not break)
[Thank you, Lord, for the breaking of my heart and the mending of my soul; I think through it all, You have made me stronger]
I dream of [Luna]; I have done some sort of thing that has incited him to invite me into a prolonged conversation discussing my various actions. In my usual huff and irritated manner, I delay talking to him for as long as I can, making my rounds around a huge mansion, forcing him to look for me and wait for me. When he finally finds me (corners me; I feel the sharp panic in my dream), I refuse to come out from where I am hiding. When I finally make my way out and decide I do want to talk to him, he is gone.
I frantically search for him; in the end, I cannot tell if it was I who found him or him who found me (for I think in the end, he was still looking for me) It makes me a bit sad, a bit happy; it reminds me of the Gospel story.
I suppose the dream is not so different from real life.
Momma puts her arm around my waist, her hand resting on the small of my back. When I shift as we walk, she changes her position to loop her arm around mine and without a second thought (like clockwork, as if it were habit) I reach for her hand and intertwine our fingers. We hold hands for twenty, maybe thirty second as we cross the street; I glance at her quickly to look for a reaction; there is none. There is no lump in my throat, no stone in my chest as I hold her hand for the first time since I can remember. She lets go first; my breathing resumes and I wonder if such an occurrence will happen again.
On the car ride back home, Dan is asleep and it is just me in the passenger seat and my ma driving. She tells me to sleep, “aren’t you exhausted?” and I give a muted yes-no half response. I want to ask her what her favorite color is but I never muster up the courage. I realize that I don’t know my mother at all.
But, the Spirit stubbornly prods me to talk to her (and oh, how painful and embarrassing it is to actually attempt a real conversation with my ma in person; I am grateful for the dark of the night as I pitch questions at her) and haltingly, questioningly, softly, she responds to my questions.
“How long did you and Dad date before you got married?” [why] “I’m just curious.” [I don’t remember] “Dad said it was around a year.” [yeah, probably then] “Did you want to marry him that early?” [/scoff/ no] “Why not?” [it was too fast] “Then why did you?” [I had no choice] “What do you mean?” [it was the only way both of us could come to America] “Oh.”
My parents married and immediately after, my dad left for America. They were apart for two years until my mother’s Visa application was finally accepted. Around a year later, I came along.
There was a long period of time in my life where I looked at my parents’ relationship and told myself, “If that is love, I do not want it.” There was also a time where I thought, “If there is a god who will remain silent as my family crumbles, then I do not want him.”
The fault in my line of thinking was that I did not know love and I did not know God, therefore I chose to disown them. I felt the effects of a love absent of Christ (phileo, eros, storge) and believed in a god absent of love. But, now that I do know both and felt the presence of both, God gives me no more room for excuses.
1 John 4:7-10
Love them unconditionally, He tells me, with a love that has no bounds and knows no fear.
[That is the love I have for you]