Journal Entry October 25th, 2011

Disclaimer:  You might not understand this post.  I'm not asking you to.  :) 


"Talk to me," he says.

The words don't come.

But the tears do.

My heart and my bathtub are full.  There are words I wish to say.  And yet, I can't.

He takes my hand.  And the tears come again, for a new reason.  This man, this husband of mine is infinitely patient and kind.  In the words of another, "he is more patient with me than I am with myself."

I retreat again into my journal and my books and my Bible.  He stays near, but gives me the space to simply be.  I look over.  He sits at the kitchen table with his Bible open, seemingly unaware that I'm watching him.  My eyes go back to my papers.  Out of the corner of my eye, I see him glance up to check on me.  We sit silently.  Each of us half-engaged in our books; each pretending that we don't realize the other one watching.  It's a delusional game.

The gulf between us seems oh-so-wide.  It's not anger or frustration.  We didn't get into a fight.  We're just learning what it means to co-exist.  And learning that God is working on that other person so we need to step back and let Him work.  That's hard.

I bridge our emotional-Grand-Canyon by taking the few steps from the couch to the kitchen table.  He looks up with bright eyes, hoping that I'll have words to explain.

I don't.

As he wraps his arms around me, the tears come again.

I cry because I hurt.  I cry because I am loved and yet so undeserving of it.  I cry because I'm aware of my shortcomings and how un-Jesus-like I am.  I cry because this-thing-called-'marriage' is smoothing out all my rough edges and I know that I still have so much further to go.  I cry because this world is not my home.  And I am so very ready for the world that is my home.

He loves me.  Of this am sure.

And I'm pretty crazy about him too.  ;)