October 1, 2012 § 1 Comment
Note: This is part 1 of a 2-part post. The follow-up comes tomorrow morning. Just like new mercies.
Gentlemen who give credence to the title, thank you.
Your actions and hearts inspire us of the fairer sex and help heal the wounds created by men who are not so gentle. You realize the weight your actions carry. You do the right thing when it stinks. You are the ones who get up with the babies and surprise your wives and know how to say you are sorry. If you have not heard it today, thank you.
With my words on this page, I have always said I would not sling mud. My words on a screen should not be used to knowingly speak down to others or on others. But, when someone else gets in to the room right by the eat-in kitchen (or even into the eat-in kitchen) and then trashes the place, unintentional or not, I am not sure how to vocalize everything I want and need to say. I almost didn’t say anything. But, hiding all of my mess under the rug is not my MO.
Thing is, when you love people, how do you give them room and space to come in to the house that is your heart, but not get wounded in the process? I’m not really sure it’s possible.
And, whew, I certainly got hurt.
You see, for a few months now, some of you know, I’ve invested a lot of time in a guy. You don’t need to know his name. Most of us call him the Texican.
The current version of myself does not easily understand how to interact with a guy I think is a gentleman. At the end of my last major relationship, I wailed at the walls for months. You can read about it anywhere you’d like on this blog. There’s a search bar on here somewhere. Then, a favorite came along and God used us both for healing and, well, he’s getting married now (I am THRILLED for them). 🙂 I wailed at the walls with him, too, but really, it was just an aftershock of what came before. In the midst of aftershocks, the idea of romantic love got muted. It was like someone just turned my switch to “Off”.
For almost a year, I could not even wrap my mind around what it would be like to be in a relationship with someone. It made my job of capturing love quite difficult. Sweet moments where you could see his adoration for her written all over his face were concepts I could not grasp. Late night kisses and holding hands evoked no emotion. As my heart ached for a teammate, I could not even dream of my wedding day. The whole thing got sent into oblivion.
On the day I pulled in to Raleigh from the crazy pants that was Prague, the investment kicked off. Google chats and late night phone calls and texts ’til my thumbs were sore flooded my life from the Texican and slowly, someone began to turn the volume back up. Thinking about someone in that capacity was a concept I had to relearn. God, in all His goodness, has been patient with me. He had been patient with me. To find out, months later, that I had trusted too easily again was hard. The shock hurt. I had let someone else in to the home that is my heart and he didn’t drag trash in or anything. He just neglected the place. It is disappointing.
For I had unfairly allowed him to hold heartstrings. He claimed to choose Love. I had prayed and hoped and thought that he would be careful with what he held. And he wasn’t. I suffered as a result. The aftershocks have hit only a few times, but that doesn’t make them any more fun. And, please, before you jump on him, recognize that him not meeting expectations that I unfairly held over him does not make him a jerk. His behavior was not the kindest. It was quite selfish. All of this not-so-fun makes him a human; broken and messed up and in need of saving just like you and just like me.
It’s not an excuse, as my Momma says.
It’s an explanation.
My soul grows tired of getting heartstrings wrapped up in the hands of men not worthy. It is…exhausting. (<—grunt a little when you say that) And I was so (expletive deleted) MAD. How many times will I be used to bring healing into the lives of men who then want nothing to do with me when the process has finished?! My chest is sore from the weight and hurt and it is hard to remember my identity after the mess. But, thankfully, I am immersed in a community that knows me, embraces me, and pours out love on me even with my blackness. They remind me of who I am.
I am not perfect.
I fall down regularly.
But, I am every aspect of the meaning of my name.
I am God’s promised gift to some very amazing people.
I have been Loved.
In spite of it all, I am confident that I will get a turn. One day, slow dancing will happen in my kitchen and laughter and arguing will rock the same walls. With any luck, he’ll handle all the laughter and I will handle all the hospitality. He can be the strong one and I can be the creative one. My teammate and I will have a magnificent time. Bourbon will reside on top of the fridge and you will always be welcome.
Times like the one I am in, it’s so easy to choose bitterness. But, choosing the easy path makes both rivers and men crooked. And, thank God, finding a teammate and getting married isn’t the epitome of my life. Culture and the rest of the world screams that from the rafters. Sorry ’bout your luck, rest of the world! The end all of my life is to seek Love and show it to others as it has been shown to me. If a teammate happens to come along for the ride of this beautiful life, well that would be freaking fantastic.
When the next one comes, and he will (fingers crossed), let me just say there had better be clear intentions. If there aren’t defined terms, I give you all full permission to come tackle me in our giant foyer and slap some sense into me. Drag me to the beach in the back of your car. Get the dog involved. Spray me down with a power washer. Whatever you have to do.
In the end, I was used to bring healing. This one moved on to a new someone, too, and I hope things work out for him. I got my dreaming back and my roots in Carolina grew a foot deeper in response to all of it. My close friend became less so and it is okay to be sad. My heart is thankful for our casita, distractions, your beautiful faces, and the overwhelming Love you bring into my life. I hope you know how much I sing your praises.
Thank God that the Texican got tired of chasing me down. As I run for the fame of Love, I hope I will eventually look over and see someone running at the same pace as me. That is the gentleman I want to stand beside for the rest of my days.
All things work together for good to those that believe in Him.
It just might not be the good that you were hoping for.
”We should not, therefore, be too taken aback when unexpected and upsetting and discouraging things happen to us now. What do they mean? Simply that God in his wisdom means to make something of us which we have not attained yet, and he is dealing with us accordingly.” – JI Packer “Knowing God”