I'd usually never spend such a time between finding one of your letters and responding to your letter . . . it's just that this last letter from you was one of the most beautiful, personal, at-times-heartbreaking, and comforting you've ever written. I felt that it amounted to an intimacy I was only too privileged to receive. And I didn't want to respond in haste.
I wanted to read your letter.
And then I wanted to read it again.
And again.
And again.
In fact I've lost count of how many times I've read your letter.
Thank you for trusting me enough to write it.
Here's my reply:
I love you.
I have loved you for fourteen years.
You are not the same girl I fell in love with.
And yet you are that same girl I fell in love with. It's just that you've become so much more than her alone. You have become so much stronger. You've become so much more fascinating. So much more beautiful.
And when I speak of your beauty I hope you can gauge the depth my words may not reach on their own. I hope you know I love your body. Your physique. Your face. Your touch. And everything I can see with my eyes. But I hope you also know that I love your mind. Your heart. Your patience. And everything I can't see with my eyes, but feel strengthening my every moment. Day to day.
Now I want to say something meaningful, and personal, and on-par with your last email, but find that I simply lack the eloquence of spirit and character to match you. My spiritual journey has been different from yours. Of course it goes without saying that we each wander our own spiritual path in the end. It's just that while my path was less-orthodox (or, actually, not-orthodox at all) when I was younger and has become more so as an adult, yours has followed the opposite—growing less orthodox with time.
Is that a fair summary?
I don't mean to measure quality one way or the other.
I love you and your journey. I'm blessed to be here and to be a part of that journey. It's caused me to take more time to pause, and breathe, and consider my own thoughts and conclusions and actions and measure them out more carefully before imparting them to others. I know I still have room to grow and to mature and to understand God and His Son. Thank you for all you've done to help me on my own spiritual path. I could not have been where I am without you having been who you are. And I hope and pray every day that who I am is always kind and patient and loving and supportive of not only you, but of everyone. And I hope that your example continues to inspire and strengthen me to be a more complete individual.
Can I just ask one thing?
Can we become better at talking with each other?
Like, for real?
I can't tell you how it breaks my heart to consider you struggling alone with those things that troubled you. How I wish I could redo those years for you, and to have provided you with more confidence in myself. To have somehow carried myself in a way that assured you in my confidences. I hope and pray that I can be that person now. I hope that you need never be concerned that my thoughts and actions will ever be anything other than loving, supportive and intrigued by every last thought, care, and concern that is a part of you.
I love you so much.
I love you now more than I've ever loved you before.
And I'll love you more again tomorrow.
And this love has nothing to do with who you may or not be. Or with what you may or may not believe.
My love for you is only ever concerned with who you are. And if who you are is willing to let me love you then I will. For now and for always. And I promise you that this love will only grow, each and every day.
Just allow me to love you.
That's all I'll ever ask.
That's all I need.
Let me know your thoughts. Your loves. Your dislikes. Your concerns. Your hopes. Your dreams. And I'll do a better job of sharing mine with you.
I just want to talk with you.
And help you feel my love in the confidences I place in you.
From the very first time you opened up to me you've become my sacred space.
You are my sanctuary.
.PtB
Sent from my iPad
