He Tells Me about His Night and I Count the Colours in His Eyes

Of course I would be awake now at 12:33AM, as opposed to during the seven hours of school time today when awareness and normal brain cognition would have been helpful. My body may be exhausted but my brain is wide awake. I am thoughtful and introspective. I am on my island.

I used to think my parents were old when they got married, but I realized yesterday that they were 24. The youngest I could possibly be is 23. I don't feel old, but I know I am getting there. I wanted to have a husband, a house and two kids by now. Yet the more life I live, the more it becomes glaringly obvious that my years on this earth will not be what I always wanted or expected. I don't know if I will ever live in a house long enough to be worth painting the walls, let alone have time to set up a swing-set or plant a garden in time to reap the benefits. I don't know if I will ever find a man whose dreams line up with mine in such a way that we could build a life together; maybe I am meant to do this with only one Man by my side. And with that...I don't know if children are part of the picture, and that hurts most of all.

If you've ever dated someone for a long enough period of time that you have begun to seriously discuss the future, you'll know what I mean when I say that breaking up with him isn't just losing him; you mourn a death, the death of the self you've planned to become. All the dreams, the kind of street you'd live on, how your schedules would mesh, the way you'd sign your name once it ended in his, vacations you'll never get to go on, the children with his hair and your eyes who you'll never meet...they are each a blow that needs to be faced, felt and healed. I have had a few of these "funerals" over the last few years and they never get easier, I just get better at pretending no one died. Last night in Freedom Session I cut soul ties...and I feel so much freer. I finally got the open-casket-closure I've been longing for with each person, and now I can move on with my life. It's funny, though. I never saw until now that I haven't ever taken the time to mourn the life I thought I would have, regardless of the man.

At 16, I really did have it all figured out. I would get married the summer I turned 20, live in the same house my entire married life, and start having kids within the first two years. He would work, I would do whatever my heart wanted to at any given time. Some time between then and now I decided we would be a ministry couple together. And I always thought marriage was just around the corner, whether I was taken or not. ...But that isn't the life for me. Jesus has broken me, wrecked me for anything but the incredible plans He has in store. I am going to be so much more than the stay-at-home mom I always wanted to be, or the wife who bakes and cleans and dreams all day; I am going to be a tycoon. I will do what He asks, and whatever comes with that I will take, even when it tears my heart out. And then I will die, and the real journey will begin.

My anxious heart wants to be loved by someone in the here and now, for who I am at my best and who I am without those wonderful qualities I will never possess; the real me, however, is so satisfied. I am in love. He's incredible. Every day, with every new thing we experience together, I am more myself than I am with anyone else. He's captured my heart, and there is no one else right now who can make my heart race this way. The best part? Even when I go away to be alone, to my room or my island, He's there, holding my hand and my heart and my world in the palm of His hand. He says He will never forget me, even when everyone else does, because it is on the palm of His hand I am inscribed.

One day I may meet a man who will sweep me off my feet, but it will never compare. I have a Lover of my soul with whom I am truly myself and He will always be what holds the rest of my world together. No husband could ever replace this love, get in the way, or satisfy my deepest longings. I want this journey to include someone, but I'm learning to let go of the need. With or without, I will survive.

I take it back, I'm glad I can't sleep. This smile was worth it.