this great Mystery...

I, at moments, can sit in my little work chair typing away - when my love for Ricky overwhelms my heart and my eyes well up and my heart awakens. Love is a subject overdone by greater writers than myself. Yet, love is this beautiful thing that I can't run away from.




And I think that's the beauty of it all. I can hide my face from the Lord, whose Love is the sun and my dear husband is merely a moon - reflecting His rays into my heart in the midnight hour… but in those dark moments, the Sun feels so absent, but the moon guides me home. Even in the brightest shining day he can be found. He's the physical constant - the great reminder - the Lord's shining love is always there.



And he's not perfect. And his lack of perfection has nothing to do with my love. All a strange concept in itself. What makes my heart erupt in gratitude, more than anything, is His nearness. Maybe it's oneness - something which seems so undefinable. But even this oneness, this great gift, makes his imperfection even more intrusive. Yet my love grows.



Because there he is. And the more HE IS, the more I love. The more memories that he's interwoven in, the more I love. The more tears that he went through, even without full understanding, the more I love. The more I can say - we were there, and now we are here - the more I love.



And this thing, this oneness, this fuel to a flame, isn't always comfortable. But even its discomfort I love. It reminds me I'm alive, I'm in need, I'm wretched, poor, naked, and blind. It reminds me how ugly I am, how ugly WE are, yet how much the Sun continues to illuminate our sky.



I curl up under the blanket, hide my face, and cry because I miss the Sun. The night is cold. Yet my silly heart should merely turn to my side, and feel He who is love, speaking through this man who won't leave - no matter how loud I yell, or how many dishes I leave undone. And I couldn't leave him unless I choose wickedness, unless I turned my back on all things good and beautiful.



And this holy, invisible force that keeps us together - in this oneness - is evidence there is a God. A beautiful, loving God who wrote this whole drama to point to a Godman who chose a wife for Himself. His love and his story is stamped even in the most mundane of life. The arising in the morning, the brushing of the teeth, and the long drives to Sunday evening dinners.



Ricky is my moon. And I love him because he's always in my sky.



Even more it's the Light that I love. I love the Light. And one day the moon, and my dark lifeless soul - so dead without the heat of day, and even the survival of the night - will embrace the Sun with a nearness we've never known.



Amen.