“You are the butter to my bread, you are the breath to my life” (from the movie Julie & Julia).
I blogged a few days ago about a magical movie moment at Best Buy. I’m beginning to realize that that girl is probably not you. In fact, I sincerely doubt I’ll ever see her again.
But one thing she did that I’m forever grateful for is to help me believe in myself again. Specifically, she helped me to believe that I could be desirable and attractive to the opposite sex. Not in a logical in-my-head kind of way, but in a very real, in-real-life kind of way.
I had even begun to doubt you would ever come my way, but now I believe in that again. I believe that even if it takes a miracle for us to meet, God has plenty of experience and practice and miracles and it’s really true that what seems impossible to us isn’t even remotely difficult for him,
There are still some fuzzy parts. I don’t know who you are or what you look like. I don’t know when or how we’ll meet. I don’t know where I’ll be. But I do know that wherever you are will be my home.
I know that there will be times when we won’t be “in love,” but we will still love each other, because love isn’t a feeling as much as it is a choice, an action, an active verb. Love even means loving when you don’t feel like it. Going through the motions of love sometimes until the feelings of love return.
I do hope there are moonlit walks on the beach and candlelit dinners. I hope for fireworks and also for quiet moments. I can’t wait to feel you lying next to me, sleeping while I’m still not able to fall asleep over the wonder that you belong to me and I belong to you and that we both belong to Jesus.
Some days, you are harder to see than others, but my hope isn’t in you. It’s in God. Period. I hope you will love me, but I hope you will love Jesus more. I hope to love you, but not half as much as I hope to love Jesus. And I know neither of our loves will even begin to touch the love of the Father for each of us.
That’s what I’m hoping for.