When we first met, I was a little worse for wear,

I had little to no confidence and an air that said I didn’t care.

But I did.

So much.

I wanted to know you, fall for you, feel the warmth of your embrace.

I wanted to talk to you, but I couldn’t even look you in the face.

My heart was wretched,

My solo record was entitled, ‘The girl who wanted to be noticed’.

Little did I know…

You couldn’t keep your eyes off me,

But every time you tried to speak, before you even finished a sentence, I had walked away.

Apparently, I didn’t want to hear what you had to say.

But patiently and consistently, you whispered me reminders,

That you would sacrifice ANYTHING

To have me take off these shackled blinders.

 ‘Let me pursue you.’

And then… that day.

How could I forget?

I was crying and that was the first time that I met,

You in that place,

One hand on my heart you cradled my tear filled face.

‘We’ll make it through this.’

I was overwhelmed,

I had been waiting so long just to hear someone tell,

Me something like that,

To love me.

That was all I asked.

Wanted,

Needed.

We were the perfect match.

And behold: there the seed was planted.

That sprouted into joy,

Grew into peace,

And blossomed into love.

So now… here we are,

Eight years of ups and downs,

Of me running,

Of you pursuing,

But you have always been constant.

Every part of you spilling love over my life,

Like your blood that flowed from body to ground as people stood around,

Saying, ‘Surely this man is the Son of God.’

Surely.

This love that is more than I can hold within my heart,

Every part of you sacrificed until all I can do is start,

To sit here in wonderment at how vast your arms reach,

to my amazement…  

I learn, as you teach,

Me every day,

In moments as they run into minutes, hours,

And all you ask is that I sit here and say,

‘Thy will be done.’

I need to stop.

Trying to back seat drive this life that I neither know how to navigate or survive.

You whisper,

‘I am enough.’

Enough to fill this lonely heart that beats to a rhythm you set to start,

At the beginning of time.

Awaiting the day when its accompaniment partner joins in on this symphonic rhyme,

Of beauty you direct.

But as movements pass and I sometimes slip,

Flip the sheet of music,

And it seems so monotonous as I wonder why…

Sir.

I have a question.

Is it time yet?

What about now?

But you remind me of how,

I was pursued by you, the maker of heaven and earth.

How, no matter what I did, I could only birth,

More of your love for me.

Everlasting.

All encompassing.

And until these notes reach their climax I’ve gotta trust,

That until I learn what you have NOW,

I must,

Focus on these sheets of instruction telling your story,

How Creator became Savior and glory,

Glory hallelujah,

His saints go marching on and on,

And I go marching on,

Because until I learn to keep my eyes on you,

The director of this hymn,

Doesn’t matter how hard I try -

I’ll never be able to write a love story with any earthly man.

emilee 4.28.12 

I want to throw up.But I don’t. I want to cry. But I can’t. I want to breathe. But can’t find air. I want my heart to beat normally. It won’t. I want to sleep. I can’t. I want to climb in a hole and sleep through the rest of my life. But then I’d miss the rest if yours. What am I supposed to say when people ask me how I’m doing? It’s not socially acceptable to flip tables or punch holes in walls. Too bad. I feel like my life is folding in. Folding down. The final act in a tragedy. You can tell me it isn’t. You can clap and smile away your problems. But this is taking my heart, not my chance at fame. Perspective. The world looks so much darker from this side of an eclipse. I want to cry. But tears aren’t an option.

emilee 4.4.12