Words & Phrases
"I never would have imagined..."
Over the last two years this phrase keeps falling out of my mouth. I find myself almost growing tired of it. I'm sure others do too, but I can't get tired of it because...well, because it keeps me reminded to not lose sight of the miracle God gave me in my husband and the life we have together. Every time I type or utter these words, I'm reminded of these words which I didn't even know if I had the heart to believe, though I sang it, prayed it,and hoped (with great reservation)...
"I wouldn't have believed you or God..."
Another phrase that just rises and reminds me that my faith was so so small. I was caught up in a friendlationship (not a relationship but not just friends either) that was causing me so much pain. The guy had kept me a secret from his family, from his friends, dated other girls but would keep me on the line, knowing how I cared for him, that I would and did do things for him that were things I should never have done. I was used for scholastic benefit, for emotional crutches, for so many things that I allowed.
I remember walking down this road in Poland not believing God would or could do more for me. That I wasn't worth the time, energy or love of a man in this world. Nothing but draining boys, hurtful boys who wanted to use me up and ditch me on the side for a more "perfect" version that fit the image or vision of people in that boy's life. So I kept on trying to fit, and kept failing and breaking myself down every instant. It was lonely, it was hopeless and dreary. In my deep brokenness, I was destroying myself in this weird thing...and it killed my faith that God could do more...Until God DID more.
"I could not have dreamed him up"
Then I met him. I had discovered my happy, I was shedding the ugly things that were holding me captive. I was learning how to shine light on the people I encountered and learning how to make lattes too. But there he sat, week after week. Drinking his coffee, quietly healing himself while I was discovering my sparkle again. We observed each other in a sphere of safety. I didn't know he was watching, wondering what the beautiful girl with the dark eyes and hair was like, what was behind those eyes and obnoxiously sparkly accessories. He didn't know I was watching him, wondering what heart laid behind the nerdy t-shirts (I loved them), observing the character of a grown man who never once oogled the scantily clad, cleavage showing young ladies that frequently passed his table. I never once saw him leer or crudely joke with the baristas I worked with. Nothing but gentleman like, quiet strength, and piercing blue eyes did I ever see. How we managed to cross from the girl who stopped by to say hi when he was watching his motorcycle races to married, I'll never know. It was fast enough to give me whiplash though.
I know, on my end it was a straight up miracle. Because even the day of our very first date, I had the boy - the user and abuser of my heart - clamoring suddenly to declare his love, to marry me. I was weeping at the thought of being a "just don't want to lose your benefit to me" and turned around and saw Darrick there. Nothing demonstrative. I didn't even know if he did or would ever love me. I just knew there was something more in him than what I had in the past...I just knew it was different.
"Two years ago...."
I made a choice in a split second as Darrick sat across from me and offered me a future away from the painful past. What I didn't know is that he brought his own painful past and his own user and abuser. What I never saw until a few weeks later was our hearts had been hurt in the same ways, the same painful brokenness that was healing. And we were on a journey to do it together. Life, love, healing, all of it - we knew after one long day date in Charlottesville. We didn't know all that life would look like, the struggle it would be, but we knew it would be together. Together, and laughing the whole way.
It hasn't been a wholly easy two years, adjusting to our challenging circumstances. But at the end of the day, we are together. We love each other, we joy in the gift of our love after years of pain and struggle and fight. We found something that I know from experience people search their whole lives for. The adventure has just begun.
"My handsome man..."
He is a man. Not a boy who can shave. He holds doors, he buys me flowers, he does the things a man does for a woman. And no I'm not talking gender roles here, I'm talking how he takes care of my heart and soul. He doesn't use flowery words - he's not the words kind of guy. He doesn't even do so great with gifts (flowers, wine and fun treats, yes....actual gifts of the thoughtful kind, not so much). He does serving. He does sacrifice. I can't give you the number of times he gives himself for the people he loves, or the people I love so he can show his care. He's something to behold in his sacrificial serving self. I wish I could tell you with words, but this words girl finds that words and phrases fail me to show you. He doesn't say fancy words to say he loves me or anyone. But if you need him to do, be or show something, he will do it to demonstrate his love for you. "If that's what you need, I'll do it" - that's what he is. He's a do-er. It's why he wakes at the crack of dawn to work hard to provide for his son and myself. It's why he wakes early and drives two hours to serve at a church that God put on our hearts collectively. It's why he worked his 50 hour work week, and in the evenings would go completely refinish and paint a family member's kitchen. It's why he would get off after a 9 hour day and go wash my family's car, or do any number of things. Sometimes people forget how the man gives and gives and gives and wears himself out giving of his doing. He's handsome to look at, sure. But his heart, oh his sacrificial, beautiful serving heart....For that, I'll never stop being thankful.
I'm crazy in love with my "James Dean" rebel. Yeah, he's trouble with a capital T, but he's got a heart of gold and loves me in ways I could never have dreamed of. He's my partner, my handsome man, and my greatest gift in this life.
I'm sorry if I weary you with these words and phrases, but I hope, this helps you understand a wee bit...why I can't stop saying them. I can't stop being thankful for the miracle that is my life.
Over the last two years this phrase keeps falling out of my mouth. I find myself almost growing tired of it. I'm sure others do too, but I can't get tired of it because...well, because it keeps me reminded to not lose sight of the miracle God gave me in my husband and the life we have together. Every time I type or utter these words, I'm reminded of these words which I didn't even know if I had the heart to believe, though I sang it, prayed it,and hoped (with great reservation)...
Yet, abundantly more than I could even believe and not just think....did God grace me with. He poured out in ways I couldn't have fathomed, known to ask for or even think of.
Another phrase that just rises and reminds me that my faith was so so small. I was caught up in a friendlationship (not a relationship but not just friends either) that was causing me so much pain. The guy had kept me a secret from his family, from his friends, dated other girls but would keep me on the line, knowing how I cared for him, that I would and did do things for him that were things I should never have done. I was used for scholastic benefit, for emotional crutches, for so many things that I allowed.
I remember walking down this road in Poland not believing God would or could do more for me. That I wasn't worth the time, energy or love of a man in this world. Nothing but draining boys, hurtful boys who wanted to use me up and ditch me on the side for a more "perfect" version that fit the image or vision of people in that boy's life. So I kept on trying to fit, and kept failing and breaking myself down every instant. It was lonely, it was hopeless and dreary. In my deep brokenness, I was destroying myself in this weird thing...and it killed my faith that God could do more...Until God DID more.
"I could not have dreamed him up"
Then I met him. I had discovered my happy, I was shedding the ugly things that were holding me captive. I was learning how to shine light on the people I encountered and learning how to make lattes too. But there he sat, week after week. Drinking his coffee, quietly healing himself while I was discovering my sparkle again. We observed each other in a sphere of safety. I didn't know he was watching, wondering what the beautiful girl with the dark eyes and hair was like, what was behind those eyes and obnoxiously sparkly accessories. He didn't know I was watching him, wondering what heart laid behind the nerdy t-shirts (I loved them), observing the character of a grown man who never once oogled the scantily clad, cleavage showing young ladies that frequently passed his table. I never once saw him leer or crudely joke with the baristas I worked with. Nothing but gentleman like, quiet strength, and piercing blue eyes did I ever see. How we managed to cross from the girl who stopped by to say hi when he was watching his motorcycle races to married, I'll never know. It was fast enough to give me whiplash though.
I know, on my end it was a straight up miracle. Because even the day of our very first date, I had the boy - the user and abuser of my heart - clamoring suddenly to declare his love, to marry me. I was weeping at the thought of being a "just don't want to lose your benefit to me" and turned around and saw Darrick there. Nothing demonstrative. I didn't even know if he did or would ever love me. I just knew there was something more in him than what I had in the past...I just knew it was different.
"Two years ago...."
I made a choice in a split second as Darrick sat across from me and offered me a future away from the painful past. What I didn't know is that he brought his own painful past and his own user and abuser. What I never saw until a few weeks later was our hearts had been hurt in the same ways, the same painful brokenness that was healing. And we were on a journey to do it together. Life, love, healing, all of it - we knew after one long day date in Charlottesville. We didn't know all that life would look like, the struggle it would be, but we knew it would be together. Together, and laughing the whole way.
It hasn't been a wholly easy two years, adjusting to our challenging circumstances. But at the end of the day, we are together. We love each other, we joy in the gift of our love after years of pain and struggle and fight. We found something that I know from experience people search their whole lives for. The adventure has just begun.
"My handsome man..."
He is a man. Not a boy who can shave. He holds doors, he buys me flowers, he does the things a man does for a woman. And no I'm not talking gender roles here, I'm talking how he takes care of my heart and soul. He doesn't use flowery words - he's not the words kind of guy. He doesn't even do so great with gifts (flowers, wine and fun treats, yes....actual gifts of the thoughtful kind, not so much). He does serving. He does sacrifice. I can't give you the number of times he gives himself for the people he loves, or the people I love so he can show his care. He's something to behold in his sacrificial serving self. I wish I could tell you with words, but this words girl finds that words and phrases fail me to show you. He doesn't say fancy words to say he loves me or anyone. But if you need him to do, be or show something, he will do it to demonstrate his love for you. "If that's what you need, I'll do it" - that's what he is. He's a do-er. It's why he wakes at the crack of dawn to work hard to provide for his son and myself. It's why he wakes early and drives two hours to serve at a church that God put on our hearts collectively. It's why he worked his 50 hour work week, and in the evenings would go completely refinish and paint a family member's kitchen. It's why he would get off after a 9 hour day and go wash my family's car, or do any number of things. Sometimes people forget how the man gives and gives and gives and wears himself out giving of his doing. He's handsome to look at, sure. But his heart, oh his sacrificial, beautiful serving heart....For that, I'll never stop being thankful.
I'm crazy in love with my "James Dean" rebel. Yeah, he's trouble with a capital T, but he's got a heart of gold and loves me in ways I could never have dreamed of. He's my partner, my handsome man, and my greatest gift in this life.
I'm sorry if I weary you with these words and phrases, but I hope, this helps you understand a wee bit...why I can't stop saying them. I can't stop being thankful for the miracle that is my life.
Comments
Post a Comment