The (triple) wide, peaceful spectrum of acceptance (and understanding of...)
What a divinely interesting month March has proven itself to be this year. A traumatic anniversary has forced itself upon me, forcing in turn my strenth to be renewed. This year, however, I have had the joy of an incredible boyfriend-- the support of whom I treasure beyond words or kisses.
Charlie left five days ago for Haiti. I pray for his safety every day and worry about his well-being in that misery-wracked country, yet I know he will come home to me safely.
What is fascinating to me are the everyday events of the past week. I used to take having friends everywhere and anywhere as a necessity to my life rather than a blessing. Now, after pushing people away for a year (or else constantly scratching at the scabs that their burns have left on me), I have been opened by a long-loved boy who has, in our taciturn absences from each other, turned bravely and sweetly into a man who has both earned and captured all the love of my years and years. Even within the distance which a volunteer photography trip to a third-world country has enforced for about two weeks, the minor changes in my hours are noticable and notable. I am regaining my sense of self and well-being, without having to sacrifice the happiness that people inherently bring to my personality.
My walls have been demolished to mere rugged yet stout rubble that I can choose to inspect with an inward distance, or skip over with a hearty laugh. These options, or abilities, have come to me through the both the presence and the absence of the man who makes me complete. In his absence these two years, I was not complete; I could only know how to be complete after the halfed life I endured previously. In his presence that first year I was not complete either, for I had not yet sensed what completion an absence would bring. Now that I have had both, I am whole-- and I did not realize this until I had been whole in the returned presence, and still whole in the renewed absence.
What a balance of portions and circles emotions are! What mysteries are circumstance and letters and notes, symbols, scales, centerpieces. How beautiful these quiet moments are.
Charlie left five days ago for Haiti. I pray for his safety every day and worry about his well-being in that misery-wracked country, yet I know he will come home to me safely.
What is fascinating to me are the everyday events of the past week. I used to take having friends everywhere and anywhere as a necessity to my life rather than a blessing. Now, after pushing people away for a year (or else constantly scratching at the scabs that their burns have left on me), I have been opened by a long-loved boy who has, in our taciturn absences from each other, turned bravely and sweetly into a man who has both earned and captured all the love of my years and years. Even within the distance which a volunteer photography trip to a third-world country has enforced for about two weeks, the minor changes in my hours are noticable and notable. I am regaining my sense of self and well-being, without having to sacrifice the happiness that people inherently bring to my personality.
My walls have been demolished to mere rugged yet stout rubble that I can choose to inspect with an inward distance, or skip over with a hearty laugh. These options, or abilities, have come to me through the both the presence and the absence of the man who makes me complete. In his absence these two years, I was not complete; I could only know how to be complete after the halfed life I endured previously. In his presence that first year I was not complete either, for I had not yet sensed what completion an absence would bring. Now that I have had both, I am whole-- and I did not realize this until I had been whole in the returned presence, and still whole in the renewed absence.
What a balance of portions and circles emotions are! What mysteries are circumstance and letters and notes, symbols, scales, centerpieces. How beautiful these quiet moments are.