The Threads of a Blanket

Beneath this blanket of love that we wove together are the threads of our intertwined life.  With each word of endearment you whispered, a knot was tied.  Your tender caresses added to the pattern of beauty.  As the years passed, the threads multiplied, the knots strengthened and beauty became a display of wonder.  Our oneness seemed irrevocable. 

The Lover certainly outdid Himself when He brought us together. 

Beneath this blanket of love that we wove together are the threads of our intertwined life.  As the years passed, the threads have become worn, the knots have grown into hardened spurs and the beauty has become soiled.  With each word of endearment you’ve whispered, it was with practiced ease and convincibility.  She is tied to you by them as well.  Your tender caresses added to the pattern of your infidelity, bringing her to a point of surrender and addiction.  Just like me.  The beauty displayed is that of duplicity.  Your selfishness seems irrevocable. 

The blanket that we wove together lies in the lap of the Lover.  I’ve asked Him to untie the knots of deceit and unravel the threads of addiction.  Beauty will be redeemed and will be a display of purity, of respect and of love.  His mercy and grace are irrevocable. 

The Lover is always true to Himself.

to see (via bluedecemberful)

Even in the midst of the shadows of Love, we often choose the void of darkness and reject the touch of Light.

there once lived a blind girl. she had everything in the world, but the beauty of sight. though she was loved and cared for by many people, she could never truly see their love. that was why she never had any close friends, and why she never trusted anyone. that was until she found a boyfriend, who was everything anyone could really hope for – beautiful, kind-hearted and loving. she finally felt accepted by the world, as if after all the problems … Read More

via bluedecemberful

Numbed by Withholding, Faint by Apathy

Numbed by withholding, I watch the world go by.  Faint by apathy, I see yet I do not respond.  The need to be heard has been beaten down with the pelting of angry stones.  The driving passion to be recognized and valued has given way to a tidal wave of control.  The hope of love rests upon a shooting star, a force from a distant galaxy.

The mall walkers stride briskly on, stepping quickly around the slow-moving shoppers.  Mothers pushing prams and holding tightly to the diminutive hands of toddlers amble from window to window.  Employees greet guests with civil resignation.  Retired gentlemen, once of great influence, sit quietly in the corner reading the daily paper.  They are regular patrons.  The barista anticipates their order and serves it promptly.  Silent sentries of honor from the past, they are thrust in the present, passing the time in anonymity.   They watch the world go by and the world does not see the disheveled clothes, the unkempt hair, the dull glaze of their eyes. 

He saunters in, dressed as though he still punches a time clock.  His leather portfolio reveals years of faithful use.  His eyes are bright; his step is quick.  He chooses his table and arranges the chairs.  Waiting at the counter for his liquid nourishment, he chats comfortably with the baristers, calling each by name.  Personable and polite, ever so eloquent, he inquires of their well-being and their families.  Quietly and respectfully, he visits with the regulars, briefly sharing a moment of recognition and acknowledgement.  With cup in hand, he returns to his table.  The lines on his face, the posture of his body hints at a life of strife and difficulty.  His accent gives hint to the possibility of a different homeland. 

My coffee grows cold and the magazine in my hands goes unnoticed.  This gentleman of advanced years has vibrancy and purpose.  All who enter the shop are greeted by him.  There is strength in his voice.  There is acceptance yet not resignation in his demeanor.  His advanced years do not show final years but years of experience and wisdom.  He remains engaged in life if not in career.  After watching him on my weekly visits, he approaches my table as though approaching royalty.  We quietly chat, sharing surprising details in response to probing questions. 

He grew up in Egypt amidst the pain of a dysfunctional family and an abusive father.  He ran away before he was a teen in desperation to save his life.  He learned to survive and to push on using his intellect and natural abilities.  He learned to not respond to his emotions.  As the years passed, he found himself in America to pursue college degrees.  Two or three of his siblings are dotted across our land as well.  All have positions and doctorates held by the extremely intelligent.  Having retired from a similar position, he now volunteers in the local community as a mediator between opposing cultures and clashing sects.  He is aware of the prejudices and fears of the local community, some of which are often directed at him as well.  He introduces himself with an americanized name for ease of pronunciation but again, his accent, his mannerisms and his skin color reveal the reality of a different homeland.   He was taken aback when I was able to guess a bit about his background just from his name and his way of relating to others.  He was shocked at my questions based on curiosity without a trace of condemnation or judgment.  He was surprised that I read between the lines and picked up on details without him directly verbalizing them.  As we chatted, notable city officials passed through the shop.  Again as though he was sitting with royalty, he presented me to each one. 

A few weeks passed and more chats pursued.  His eagerness and pleasure of sharing time at my table was obvious.  As it happens, he asked for my phone number.  The numbness by withholding and the apathy were beginning to slowly wear away yet in suspicion and in great unease, I evaded the question.  The neediness of a lonely soul seems so overwhelming and bit daunting to entertain.  I see, yet I do not respond.

The Lover waits in the shadows of life, almost unseen,  waiting to write another chapter in His story of love.

Related posts within Shadows: Thorns, Shadows and Light, Where Seeds of Love Fall, With a Plexiglass Smile, The Waves of Love, and Where He Could Be Alone.

I Love You and I …

I love you and I …

want to spend time with you.

will call you back in just a minute few weeks.

will spend time with you when I need something from you.

designed a sanctuary just to meet with you.

will spend my mobile minutes on you while driving to work.

will text you a picture of the grandkids.

listened to your heart and met all your needs.

will give you clothes, food, a house, trinkets, toys, electronics, cars.

will listen to you when I get back from hanging with the boys.

 

enjoyed our quiet walks together in the cool of the evening.

will help you with homework after I’ve read my paper, had my gin and my nap.

will come for Sunday dinner and visit next week when I’m off work, I promise.

 

mourned the loss of you when you rejected Me.

am angry at all men because “he” did that to me.

refuse to let another person get close to me again!

dedicated all of history in pursuit of you.

will take that love somewhere else if you do that one more time, do you hear me?

I gave you the best years of my life to you, for this?

gave up heaven for you.

really don’t think you should think all this is yours; I paid for all this!

don’t feel comfortable with being totally open to you.

died for you.

have no intentions of descending that ladder I’ve climbed just to make you feel secure.

think you should put aside your puny dreams and get with the program.

went away to prepare a place for you to join Me.

cleaned out the back side of this closet and two drawers in the other room for when you move in.

don’t see why you need to change things; it was good enough for my ex.

am offering to you all that I AM and all that I have.

have been thinking it’s best if we have separate checking accounts.

would rather keep my name after we are married.

Will you love Me in return?

Will you love me in return?

In the Wake of You

there is a hush of heaven.

Celebration of Light

becomes the stillness of earth.

Drenched with the downpour

Your wonder lies in puddles. 

In the movement of You

the earth trembles. 

Our strength is bowed low

as brittle branches of ancient trees.

Terrifying is Your power

as You reign across the universe.

 

 

quote: Debbieism No. 9

Having little power and limited knowledge, I realize that whatever and whomever I have  experienced may indeed be ‘the best thing that has ever happened to me’, until now; with limited wisdom, I realize that ‘the best thing that has ever happened to me’ may not be the best thing, from this point forward.  Life is a journey.  It doesn’t stop simply because we’ve reached an earthly destination.”