In me there has always been a deep desire to mend broken things. I think, subconsciously I've sought after souls that need tending - always trying to keep the hands of my mercy busy with a project. I have every expectation that at my end, it will be said that my life's work centered on something to the effect of uplifting the downtrodden or nurturing the most fragile. I've only begun it, I know. I've always, always known that was God's purpose for me.
So, then, often I don't know what on earth to do with this oak tree! This man who found me when I was at MY most broken and needed much mending. The man who will stand silently, waiting for me to finish a fit, infuriating me with his poise, then will steady me with his big oak arms while I apologize for my behavior. And, although I've been years now in his presence, it has taken years to heal my own wounds enough to accept the permanency of his love and know that there are no hidden agendas or ulterior motives where oaks are concerned.
No, there is no questioning this man. When he runs his fingers through my hair, smells the top of my head, or kisses me in a crowd, it is not habitual, it is because he loves me. Specifically, me. When he reaches for my hand in the middle of the night, it is not just for the sake of a hand to hold; It is MY hand he is reaching for. The gestures are not grandiose if measured against the world, but they are always genuine, heartfelt, and unconditional. He sees me in a way I think few have and he ever surprises me with his insight in to the self that I have always kept so guarded, having feared since childhood not living up to any given person's perception of who I was. But, fearing most, not living up to my own perception of who I SHOULD be. However, he really does see me - the good and the bad. Possibly that is the kindred "self" that we share that has allowed us to stand so perfectly together. Perhaps I am a bit of an oak, myself, when it is all said and done.
All I know is the beat of my heart is steadied by this man. Although I looked so long for someone to make my heartbeat quicken, I realize this was what I needed all along. I just had to be molded enough to accept it. And sometimes I just look at him, with no words to express my gratitude for the blessing of having such profound love and security in my life. For the amazing feeling of having someone truly see my soul and love me for that alone. For the freedom to be myself and feel complete acceptance, maybe even adoration. For the hand to hold when it is dark.
But, sometimes, the words do come. Even if at three a.m. So, then, you have to write them down somewhere...