Do you believe in true love? I did once, a long time ago. Maybe I still do. My generation grew up with the dream of a love that would break the barrier in our hearts, and set us free. We grew up watching that movie... The Princess Bride. And we dared to hope for true love. We dared to believe in a simple life that could also be special.
This time of year always makes me feel so nostalgic. The warm summer air begins to coil together with touches of cool autumn air. And I'm reminded of times long ago. My heart is inspired. My spirits are lifted, to dream of things like the nobility of lost love, and the bittersweet sorrows and joys of this life. I love it actually. It draws me deep down, toward deeper, more real realities of this life.
I still believe in real love, like the Smashing Pumpkins song. Romance, a beautiful thing. Life, like a dream. And dreams more real than reality. I believe in hope. I was walking along in the city, along the streets of Chicago, listening to nine albums by Death Cab for Cutie, rolled into one playlist. I bought these 9 albums from some guy on Ebay for $30.00. Not a bad deal. Death Cab reminds me of my troubled youth and early 20s. It makes me feel nostalgic.
Walking along a late summer road I looked across a steamy field. My feet crunched along the road slowly, taking heavy steps, one by one. The field arched slowly down, I was at a point like at the top of a crest. Fog hovered above the grasses. Trees rippled along in the distance. It was just, just starting to get dark. The skies in the west fell into gold and orange colors. To the east clouds rolled forward. Silent bursts of lightning flashed occasionally within the bubbly clouds. Across the twilight of the fields little flickering flashes spiked here and there, randomly. One might miss them if you looked away even for a moment. They were fireflies flashing atop the grass. Beautiful music. And I knew once again that God does live in each moment of life, if we dare to see the obvious.
I felt on the edge of a new beginning. I knew some great ordeal was coming... and I knew something beautiful awaited just around the bend. Outside of sight... but coming soon. And God would not answer my questions: Who is she? When will I meet her? What color is her hair? Does she like music I like? Will our love ever die?
Love is magical. It sets a heart on fire. Music took me away when my life was a disaster. I think if I meet my true love, my girl, my beloved wife soon, well, maybe I'll make her a mix tape. One indie rocker to another. Romantic, don't you think?
Though I don't recall, hardly, how to be that way with a woman. I can hardly recall what it feels like, in fact. That is as it should be, now that I think about it. We too often in this mixed up world think we need to try out dozens of women, or men, sleeping around with whoever, on a dizzy tirade toward love. But this is brokenness, not love. It brings pain, not romance. It leads to sorrow, not love. I learned that the hard way. I was foolish. Now, I try to live with rare wisdom. Even if no one else lives like this, in sanctity, I will. I have to. I'm tired of living the other way.
Is there someone in the future? Yes, I believe so. There's someone I'm thinking of. But I don't know if it's possible, or even advisable.
God's will. If it's meant to happen, it will. If it's not, it won't. When I bring my decisions into subjection to God's will, bad things happen less often. Or at least they're less often my fault.
I dreamt of her. But I can't see her face. I had my arms around her, but I couldn't feel her. She whispers to me, but I cannot speak. She said, I'm 30, you're 33. And I woke up.
My rational mind says it's just a delusional, a random dream. My spiritual mind insists there is something more there.
A man who seduces and manipulates many women for his own pleasure has loved no one. He has spewed himself about, and men like this are often increasingly angry, hungry, and unfulfilled. And they're mad because the more they live that life, the more they leave themselves behind. And eventually, there is nothing left inside. They've poured their soul across so many women, they've nothing left of their own but rage and emptiness. I will never live that way again, as long as I live. It is death and nothing.
To love, in a true sense, is to love one woman, in covenant marriage for life. To love, is to serve her, and walk beside her, and adore her and be adored by her. And worship God beside her. And serve God with her. To love her truly, is to love her for 20 years, 30 years, 40 years, and more. To love is to love one, and to die with her. That is love. Love is sacrificial. It stands the test of time.
Lust is for little boys, stumbling from girl to girl, forever unable to grow up. Love is for men who have grown up and matured enough to live a true life of honor, dignity, and biblical, sacrificial love. Divorce is not an option. Love lasts the test of time. And it never dies.
I'm a child of a broken marriage, and an ugly divorce. You do become jaded, and wonder if a lifelong love is even possible in this world. In the final analysis, I do believe it is possible. I know it will take work. But I know my attitude will be simple: Divorce is not an option. Plain and simple. The only possible reason divorce would happen is if an affair were taking place perpetuated by my partner. Any other problem would never be grounds for divorce. Never, ever.
So the question remains: Do you believe in true love? Here is my answer: Yes I do. But only because I believe in God. There is absolutely no hope outside of that first love between God and I. God makes it all possible. Otherwise my love story would be a lie, a giant fictitious false life, like the song by 'The Postal Service' called Clark Gable, in which the author of the song asks his old love, whom he no longer loves, to help him produce a fake movie scene in which they pretend they still love each other. True, real love is only a product of a miraculous event generated by God, in which two people meant for each other somehow, someway come together. It is a rare and beautiful thing.
If you're reading this my dear, I promise you this: Our love will be a special, sacred love. I will cherish it.
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