I sigh a deep sigh unsure what to say. This mind wills it's fingers to write, but nothing comes, for days, weeks and even months. Surface thoughts are all these stiff fingers can punch out. The American smile is showing through I'm sure. The American smile? The cursed smile that hides the heart and soul. When writing it's all I can manage. Where is my heart? Things are moving, changing even. I'm being stretched and grown; reshaped really. God is good, He is always good. Still the American smile? With the smile plastered on what is the point?
I tell him maybe it's time for that season to be over.
It troubles me that you stopped writing, he says.
He's troubled? I run over our entire marriage to find a context. No he's never told me he's troubled before, not in these words, not with this tone. He wants me to write more. He doesn't want me to stop? So much confidence in such a broken women. Really, doesn't he know me? Doesn't he know his wife struggles? I know he does, better then most. What if I say something that will effect his reputation? What if I hurt those I love?
He holds me tight our toes still touching. I can feel his heart beating. My heart is in his safety as he tells me again, keep writing. I love it as it is. Nobody can reach perfection. I love you as you are. Keep writing.
Search me, O God, and know my heart; try me and know my anxious thoughts; and see if there be any hurtful way in me, and lead me in the everlasting way.
~ Psalms 139:23-24
- A husband who to hold me.
- A husband to push me past my insecurities.
- A husband to be my anchor.
- A husband to help me filter.