She’s pretty far away right now. That shouldn’t matter. I’m used to someone I love being in a different country. Sometimes it feels like that’s the only way I know how to love someone. Maybe I don’t know. Maybe I’m scared that things are best kept at a distance so that they can fall apart slowly and painlessly rather than exploding right in your face. That’s fear talk, though. Aren’t I man enough to get right up to a thing and touch it without fear? Men do that. Men walk up to what fears them and they look it in the eye no matter how much they’re afraid of it. Maybe the more afraid of it we are the closer we get to it. And all that just to say we are not afraid of it. Well, maybe it’s to say even though we are afraid of it we can walk right up to it. Yes, fear exists in us. No, that doesn’t keep us from looking our fear right in the eyes from the same distance you’d prime yourself to kiss a woman from. But she’s in Spain. She’s someone else, but she’s still in Spain. Madrid no less. It’s borderline twisted how this worked out. Maybe I got myself into this mess though. But even the word mess sounds like a lie now that I say it. A mess is undesirable. Messes are meant to be cleaned up, not lived in. This is desirable. This is what I want. This is growing me and expanding me and causing me to see more than I saw before. To know more. This is me being in love with someone I cannot have. This is me being patient, this is me enduring. This is the only me I know anymore. This is my whole life from the moment I was told to wait for the Lord. I exist in this. I am never separate from this. She’s in Spain and He’s in heaven. And I am in neither, and I wait. But sometimes you get the feeling that she could care less about the nearly greatest care in your mind. The Us that lies between me and her. The delicate Us. If she cared she’d tell me, not so much in the direct words that I can’t decide if I even want in the first place. But with her actions she’d tell me. She does though. And that’s the most frustrating part of myself I have to deal with. That loss of confidence in any Us. I’m tired of the pendulum swinging between a faith in it and doubt. I’m tired of the change from one to the other on an every other day basis. I’m done with it now because I say so. I can choose to be done with it. So I’m going to choose one over the other, and since I choose faith with God I likewise will choose faith with Liz. Ok, as stupid as I want to tell myself that that sounds, I am going to choose it. I am going to choose FAITH IN A RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN US. I am going to act as if there is one. I am going to cultivate it at every turn. I am going to be this way because it is in my power to do so. I am decisive enough for this I think. Plus I could be missing out on the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me if I don’t. But even if Liz and I don’t work out, God and I will. Which is comforting enough, even if I try to convince myself later on down the road that it isn’t.
Ok. Doubt never stays long in my heart’s hometown.
