All That I Have Written Is Straw. . .

Meanderings of a Catholic Devout

A pathetic love letter to my husband on the occasion of our wedding.

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To my love, I—:

Before I met you, I would frequent an adoration chapel and pray (sometimes, er…often, cry) before the Eucharist. The Christ and I would have a conversation. I’d do the talking, he did the listening. And occasionally I might shut up enough to actually discern what He had to say. I prayed often for Him to help me find my vocation in life. I thought I was suited for a married life. But after a failed go at it the first time around, I felt puzzled and confused and mostly really naïve. But I fought through this pain and confusion by diving into service for others. I can’t logically explain why, as you know I can’t logically explain why for many things in life, but I trusted I’d find my vocation there. In this service to others, mentoring, teaching, or leading prayers, etc., I did find an answer: I found what I was lacking in myself—a selfless giving of myself, without holding back, without regard to past hurts no matter the cause. So when we serendipitously “met,” I didn’t really speculate too much on the odds of our becoming re-acquainted since our general and vague reconnaissance since high school. I trusted God.  And though I hesitated for relatively brief period of time (I cannot say I’m not without flaws), I trusted His guidance once more and threw myself in.

I have been so enamoured and happy. Yet, my life has been a constant and hellish cycle of choosing between you and the Lord. You don’t share the same faith and you are without blame in this. By my own choice to be with you, to live with you, I have sorrowfully had to abstain from the Eucharist. Or, when I set myself aright with the Lord, albeit briefly, then you were the one to suffer from neglect. You saw my anguish and sympathized with my plight. I prayed thousands of times for forgiveness from my God for putting Him in second place. I could only trust that our relationship, which seemed to be His response to my sad prayers, was somehow providential. My legalistic mind cannot fathom how, but I could trust in why. Now, finally, joyfully and unequivocally, this hell is over! I cannot emphasize enough how my heart swells with joy!

I know that you do not believe in Christ the same way that I do, but I cannot articulate how much He reveals himself through you. And what bliss I must feel if I am to become one flesh with you! Our union unites my two deepest loves: my God and you. My suffering has made the balm on my wounds as sweet as icing on the cake. If I am lucky enough, maybe He will reveal Himself through me to you. That will remain forever my hope throughout our marriage.

The most intimate part of a relationship, it has been speculated, is watching your other half grow emotionally, spiritually. If I am but a seedling now, with your support of my stem, I can only hope to provide shade to others by the vastness of my reach. You make me strong so that I can be stronger.

You also provide me with the gift of becoming a step-parent to your son. While I know he isn’t my own, I love him as my own charge and support the unique relationship he has with both of his parents.  My heart joyfully simmers in the possibility that we should have our own children, but even if we shouldn’t, I cannot wait to brave the task of parenthood with you through E— and any others that come into our lives.

My words weakly express gratitude to you for just loving me, as I am. For understanding who I am. For being vulnerable enough for me to love you and strong enough for me to make my home in your heart.

You are the prayer I hold within.

Yours forever and faithfully,

e.

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Written by Written Straw

July 13, 2013 at 12:54 pm

Posted in Catholic, Faith, Life

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