Domum Temporalis

Late Night Thoughts

There is many a night in the life of Twyla Mae Diefenbacher where she lies awake staring at the ceiling for an hour or two. Her body wants to sleep, but her brain says, “Yeah, no.” So it is, during this time, that her mind is flooded with many an interesting thought. Here are some of them.

Seminary. I’ve been dreaming about going to seminary for over 2 years now, and it’s starting to look like an actual possibility. As in, in 2 years I could be starting my first seminary degree! My first one, hehe. After some research and conversations with those who have gone before me, it turns out it’s not impossible, and it’s not as scary as I once thought. So sometimes I think about that while I’m falling asleep in those elusive hours between 10 and midnight, and then I just lie there in the dark, smiling like a lunatic. I highly recommend having dreams that make you smile despite the annoyance of evasive sleep.

The Prophets. I don’t think I understand them. They kinda seem like weirdos who just rail about the same negative things over and over. I think I need more cultural context. Because honestly, if some guy rolled around in the dust or walked around naked for a few years hollering about adultery, there’s no way I’d listen to him. So that tells me that there’s more going on than my 21st century brain can picture. Because, for God to use some crazy method of communication doesn’t align with who he says he is: a good being who genuinely wants relationship with his people. Something more must being going on here, and I don’t think I get it just yet. I have a class on Jeremiah this fall, so maybe that’ll help.

RomComs. I watched one recently, and was struck by a theory of why we love them so much. Of course, there are cute boys and comfortably predictable plots and ridiculously imperfect relationships. But you know what else RomComs have? Whimsy. And I think that’s really one of the main things that draws us (at least me) to them. Because really, whose life couldn’t use a little more whimsy? Like, why don’t I smile at the cute boy in the coffee shop? Or work in a taco truck for a summer? Or sit by a pool yearning for someone I met 6 months ago? Or dance when my favourite song comes on, despite not really knowing how to dance? I mean, what do I have to lose? I know, I know, RomComs are stupid and all that. But whimsy is most definitely not.

Neuroplasticity. Hey! Don’t go anywhere… that’s just a big word that means your brain can change. In my experience, being 27 and having had a fully developed brain for about 2 years now, it’s really exciting to learn that it can still change! Here’s a fun example. I texted a boy recently-ish. He left me on read. (If you’re old and don’t know what that means – he read my message and then never replied.) Not for 3 days or a week, but just… indefinitely. It’s all good, please don’t make whatever pitying or judging face you’re about to make – I’m honestly ok. See, in the past, I would’ve gone down a crazy road from “why didn’t he answer,” to “what did I say wrong,” to “what’s wrong with me,” to “I’m a horrible person undeserving of love.” Yeah, not a great path. But LISTEN. This time, my thoughts were just “there was nothing wrong with that message, it was polite, expressed human interest, and wasn’t emotionally entangling. Whatever his reason for not answering is, that’s on him.” And that, my friends, is GROWTH. Hallelujah. I highly recommend taking note of moments of growth. Even if it’s over something as insignificant as a text.

The male loneliness epidemic. What is that, you ask? Please, let me tell you. (If you haven’t noticed yet, I’m a bit of a sociologist at heart. I love exploring social trends and culturally significant moments in my own very small and limited ways.) Ok. So, this is such a fascinating concept. So far, I’ve only read about it in the social media sphere. I tried looking for actual research on this concept, but came up with nothing. Give it a year or two, and I wouldn’t be surprised if some research pops up. The male loneliness epidemic is a social phenomenon of sorts. There are a significant number of young adult men who are single, and not by choice. As in, they want to be married or in a relationship, but all their best efforts are failing to reach that goal. This also shows up in the church, in both genders. There are so many Christian young adults who are single and don’t want to be, but just don’t know how to find each other. The apps are trash, and everyone says you’ll meet a guy at church, but people rarely do. (@koubrowne on Instagram has really interesting stats and commentary on this.) I think there are many factors contributing to this reality, but here’s one of the most fascinating, in my opinion. For the first time (or at least the first time in many generations), women are no longer financially dependent on men. Women are killing it out there. They have opportunities to be more financially successful and independent than ever before.

By the way, did you know that only in 1964 (or 1974 in the US), were women given the right to open a bank account without a husband’s co-signature? Before that, unmarried women could be denied loans/bank accounts, and married women could be required to have their husbands’ signatures. 1964. That is VERY recent.

So, what does this mean? It means that men are being evaluated largely on their character rather than their ability to provide. SO FASCINATING. This changes the game completely. For men and for women. For men, the bar is suddenly WAY higher. And let’s be honest, there’s a LOT of trash men out there. And a lot of lame ones. I have receipts, if you need them. 😀 For women, it means that if we’re thinking about being in a relationship, we’re looking for an actual partner. Someone who adds value to life. Someone who wants to grow together. Not just someone who can buy stuff and keep me from getting lonely. We can buy our own stuff – or get a pet.

Why does this matter, and where will it take us? I really don’t know, but I’m highly intrigued. Will this trend change in the years to come? Will it get worse to the point where nobody dates anymore? Will everyone just have AI boyfriends? Yet another fascinating topic, by the way.

Anyway, it’s a crazy world out there, but I’m here for it. Growth and social trends are cool, and dreams and whimsy will always be free.

What are your late-night brain trails?

Olympic Discoveries

Part One: Olympic Reflections

If you follow my lowly WhatsApp status posting, you know that I have been thoroughly enjoying the 2026 Milan-Cortina Winter Olympics. The memes, new-to-me sports like ski aerials, and most of all, Team Canada men’s hockey.

By now, I know that whenever I dive this deep into something of worldly/cultural significance, there’s usually some underlying themes.

Of course, I’m human, so memes are funny, aerials are exciting, and I mean look at these boys.

Toothless cute and proud big brother cute

But it’s more than exciting games and cute boys. Sports do something to us. They make us feel like we belong. Especially in Olympic sports, we are a part of the team. We are a part of something meaningful and connected.

This kind of belonging pulled me in at a time when I don’t know where I belong. I’m living in the reality of constant newness: new country, new culture, new city, new grocery stores, new people. Nobody knows me.

Overinvesting in Team Canada felt like being home. It felt like supper conversations about McDavid, Crosby, Bedard, and a hundred other names I know nothing about. It felt like Saturday night hockey game recaps on the drive home from the arena. It felt like Canada wasn’t 13,000 km away.

You saw my play-by-play conversations with my brother – it gave me a reason to connect. It felt like being home.

Today, I’m struggling to re-enter post-Olympic life. I’m sad for Canada’s loss, missing my family, and longing for spaces that feel comfortable and homey. I told God that I could power through these emotions, make myself busy, and probably move on, sort of okay. But I don’t want to. I want him to meet me here, in my loneliness. I want him to tell me where I actually belong. I want him to move me from disregulation to fulfillment in this present moment.

Part Two: Olympic Lessons

This is Macklin Celebrini. 19 years old. Most goals on Team Canada during these Olympics. I’m so fascinated by his story. Before the Olympics started, it seemed like hockey fans were tentative about his place on this team of greats. Two weeks later, he is Canada’s superstar.

I think sports have something good going on here. What happens when you take a 19-year-old with potential, surround him with men who are 5, 10, 20 years older than him, men who are greats in what they do? What happens when those men cheer him on, encourage him, challenge him, and train with him in all the day-to-day moments?

What would happen if the church did the same?

I take my big sister role pretty seriously, and I love every single interaction and relationship I get to invest in because of having that role. I feel so much hope for the next generation of boys who are becoming men. They don’t want to be 30 years old and living in their mom’s basement. They want to be passionate about people, emotionally intelligent, and scripturally grounded.

But I am heartbroken at the conversations I have had, where I ask them if they have a mentor, and they say they don’t know who to ask. Nobody has ever vouched for them. Nobody has ever intentionally welcomed them to the team, cheered them on, challenged them, and offered to walk with them in the day-to-day moments.

I think we can do better.

Part Three: Olympic Questions

People (at least some) are competitive. People are made Imago Dei, in the image of God. Does that mean God is competitive? If so, who does he compete with? What is his purpose for competition?

Alternatively, is competition a result of the fall? a survival instinct? if so, is it good to embrace it as our current reality? or eliminate it as much as possible?

Thanks for following along with my Olympic obsession. Tune in next time for whatever obsession comes next. 😀

A Wicked Review

I recently watched the second Wicked movie, Wicked: For Good.

(SPOILER ALERT: Do not read if you have not watched Wicked yet and don’t want to know key details!)

After watching, my google history looked like this:

“Does Jonathan Bailey sing in Wicked?” (yes, he does; he took voice lessons from Ariana Grande’s vocal coach. Can you imagine being Ariana Grande’s vocal coach??)

“Does Jonathan Bailey wear the Scarecrow costume” (also yes)

“Is Cynthia Erivo straight?” (nope)

“Does Wicked have have any wicken associations”

and

“does Wicked use actual spells”

Maybe should’ve asked those questions before watching… But regardless, the answer to both is no.

Somewhere in my deep dive, I came across an article by The Gospel Coalition on the first Wicked, which you can read here if you want to see what helped form my thoughts.

I will say, there are significant pieces of the movie that should be celebrated. Bailey and Erivo’s duet is fantastic, and who doesn’t love multiple good belting moments? (If you don’t love multiple good belting moments, please don’t tell me… that way we can still be friends.) I grew up listening to a worn-out audiobook CD of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, so seeing the yellow brick road, the tin man, and the Emerald City gave me warm fuzzies.

There’s also a fantastic quote from the song Wonderful, where the Wizard says, “You see, back where I come from, we got a whole lot of people who believe all sorts of things that aren’t true. You know what we call it? History.”

Such a great commentary on today’s low-trust society.

Ok, before we get too deep, you should know some background context.

Firstly, In my house growing up, we didn’t avoid strange ideas, questionable ethics, or unfamiliar worldviews. Rather, we engaged them, compared them to Scripture, and separated the true from the untrue. This was mostly in the realm of books, since I am one of the few GenZs who was raised largely media-free. This approach to media still has some influence on me, especially in contexts where the media in question is dismissed or demonized by my culture.

Secondly, I am fascinated by media that gives a clear commentary on our cultural moment. Being a psychology major might have something to do with that. Those two things together mean that I can’t watch a movie like this without dissecting it at least a little.

I was reading about the humanistic perspective in my psych textbook this week. In general, I affirm humanistic approaches and believe they have significantly contributed to the field of psychotherapy. Unconditional positive regard, a holistic approach to mental health, and prioritizing the psychological well-being of the therapist are necessary and helpful advancements.

However, more broadly, humanistic ideas lead to a kind of moral relativity and questions of evil that are difficult to answer. If humans are essentially good, what makes some people wicked? Where does evil come from? The Wicked movies are an excellent demonstration of how our current (Western) cultural moment is answering these questions.

Wicked answers the question of evil by giving the former villain, now protagonist (The Wicked Witch of the West/Elphaba), a backstory full of discrimination, injustice, and false propaganda. It addresses real moral and ethical topics, such as the abuse of power, the lack of justice, silent compromise, advocacy for the oppressed, and the value of friendship. You can read more about that in The Gospel Coalition article… they wrote about it better than I can.

A key question of the movie is, if other people think someone is wicked, do they eventually become wicked? I thought Wicked was going to answer yes, but actually, they said no. In the end, Elphaba becomes more of a self-sacrificial type, faking her death and allowing all of Oz to believe she is wicked, while she goes off to live in a wasteland. Fascinating.

The part that struck me most was the lack of a hopeful ending. I’m guessing that to someone without divine hope, it seemed quite hopeful. But, as with everything that is separate from Jesus Christ, earthly hope lacks power.

Close to the end, Glinda the Good says, “I’m going to try to be good.” I almost wept at the sadness that struck me with that line. Trying to be good is so, so futile. But for the growing number of nones (people with no religious/spiritual beliefs), trying is the only option.

Here’s the thing: I think this ideology of trying has seeped deep, deep into the church. Maybe it’s a human problem, not a humanistic problem. I feel it. The pull to try, to perform, to act right, all without any power. And over and over, I crash and wonder, “Why couldn’t I be good enough?” It’s as if I think that because I’ve given my life to Jesus, I’m good to go now; I don’t need anything else from Him. Salvation without sanctification.

Where does this come from? Where do we get the idea that we work for our salvation rather than work out our salvation? I’m sure I’ve never sat in a church service and been told “you need to do this and this and this and then you’ll be saved.” Maybe some of you have, but that is not my experience. And yet, I constantly work out of scarcity rather than the lavishness of grace.

Thankfully, growth is possible. More and more, I am learning about the power of Jesus. More and more, I say “you do this in me” rather than “help me do this.” More and more, I come back to Eph. 1:18-21: The same power that raised Jesus Christ from the dead and seated him at the right hand of the Father is available for us who believe. Sit with that for a moment, if you haven’t recently.

So, what about Wicked?

I think it’s a great story. Much spookier than my typical watch, but great music and excellent actors. Thought-provoking topics and fascinating cultural commentary. Ultimately, it offers all that the world can offer: a pretty story without divine hope.

Conrad Fisher, Pain, and the Cross

Never have I ever related more to any fictional character than I relate to Conrad Fisher. If you don’t know who that is or aren’t a fan of TSITP, you can skip to the second half, where I talk about the cross… although it’s better if you just keep reading. 🙂

I have to start with Conrad. Sure, this is “just” a teen drama. And while most of the world might like Conrad for his green eyes, dress shirts, and that epic watch, I think there’s more. (If you want a scene-by-scene breakdown with ALL my insights, just ask. I will happily send you multiple 5-minute voice messages.:)

There’s a reason Jenny Han’s writing has taken millennials by storm. There’s a reason we all love Conrad. For one, he’s a male character written by a woman and sometimes directed by a woman (the reason episode 5 is our favourite). He is somehow both the ideal and a flawed, realistically human prototype. I can’t speak for every Zillennial woman… but as an at least semi-emotionally mature 26-year-old, I will say the top of my “ideal man” list is 1. Loves Jesus, 2. Loves people, and 3. Goes to therapy. I think it’s safe to say we care about emotional maturity.

But, for me, there’s even more. Whenever I get sucked into some aspect of pop culture, there’s usually something more. It connects deeper.

I relate to Conrad, because of the way he navigates pain. He is hurt over, and over, and over, but he grows, and grows, and grows. He does the work. He learns emotional maturity. And he keeps fighting for the people he loves.

This is what good storytelling does. It invokes empathy in us, and it tells us that we are not alone, even in the deepest parts of ourselves. Especially in the deepest parts of ourselves.

Last night, in the heartbreaking moments before the finale resolved, I wept. Not so much because of the story itself, but because it gave me permission to feel my own pain.

I too have grieved.

I too have felt unloved and unlovable.

I too have been rejected. Again, and again, and again.

I too have watched others live the life I want, hoping someday it will be me.

I too carry pain that sits at my core, defining part of who I am. Pain that wraps around me and makes me question everything.

But then the Holy Spirit whispered to me… what do you have that Conrad Fisher doesn’t?

Paul calls it the mystery of the gospel. The mystery of the cross.

A song from this summer’s OC rep has been going through my head this week:

If he could speak, that victim torn and bleeding

caught in his pain and nailed upon the cross

has he to give the comfort souls are needing

could he destroy the bitterness of loss?

give me for light the sunshine of thy sorrow

give me for shelter the shadow of thy cross

The mystery of the cross. The mystery of every piece of Jesus’ experience having value and effect. Not just the end result of salvation. Him actually hanging there, feeling unloved, in pain, rejected, watching others live.

Can he actually give comfort, while in pain himself? Is there comfort in the shadow of the cross?

I say yes, there is.

It doesn’t erase my pain.

It engulfs it.

For the first time in my life, I’m part of a congregation that practices the eucharist every week. I’ve found myself pondering the cross each time (in the middle of figuring out what is going on in Thai – wait, we’re praying now?? – learning new church customs, culture, etc.)

And so it all connects. Conrad, a fictional character helps me acknowledge and uncover my pain.

Jesus, a real and living God-become-human, helps me face it, comforts me in it, and eventually, heals me from it.

give me for shelter the shadow of thy cross

Loneliness Doesn’t Care

Loneliness does not care. It will not ask permission before it punches you in the chest.

Loneliness doesn’t care that you were just with 30 people five minutes ago, doing an activity you enjoy. It will come for you anyway.

Loneliness does not care that at any moment, you can name 10 people who you’re pretty sure love you dearly.

Loneliness doesn’t care that you are living several of your dreams. It will only remind you of the One Dream that is not yet realized and feels like maybe it never will be.

Sometimes, Loneliness will bring its friends with it. Jealousy – he’s an ugly one. Even worse, Hopelessness and Despair. It takes an emotional fistfight to keep those two from tackling you to the ground.

I’ve found that it’s pretty pointless to try to ignore Loneliness. It’ll come find you somehow. Irritability. Binge-watching something stupid like The Office. Pointless activity. Anger. It’s very creative.

Rather, I have found that if you take the Loneliness sitting in your chest and sort of wrap yourself around it, it can’t hurt you quite as much.

Sometimes, after Loneliness has attached itself, something cool will happen that loosens its grip and makes it fall off a little. Something cool like you run into your upstairs neighbours in the parking lot and realize that for the first time, your upstairs neighbours aren’t your parents, and that’s pretty neat. Or you’ll be amused while folding your static-filled laundry because somehow you’re adult enough to own a dryer but not adult enough to own dryer sheets.

And you’ll realize that your life is cool, and you’re not stuck, and you are doing ok.

But sometimes, nothing cool happens, and loneliness just hangs on.

And then you sit with it.

And you remind it that it will not last forever. Someday, you will not be Loneliness’s punching bag anymore. It might not be until heaven, but eventually, you won’t feel lonely like this ever again. Thank the Lord, Loneliness does not get the final say.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sorry, not sorry, couldn’t resist. I’m thinking of starting a new blog called “A Mennonite Who Curses Sometimes” or something like that. (credit: Christians Who Curse Sometimes) It would be similar content to this one, but less sensored. Maybe more honesty about being a woman. Would you read it? Would you find a blog like that offensive or refreshing?

Overdose and Hell and Stuff

With a title like that, I think you’re brave to be here.

I sat with someone today while they told me their acquaintance overdosed and died yesterday. While we were talking their friend overdosed behind me. (She survived, thanks to Naloxone and a safe use room.)

They were just names to me, so instead of my heart feeling grief, my mind thought of hell.

I don’t believe God is scared of questions, so I’d like to ask some.

How is it just that all these folks die and go to hell when they don’t know any other way?

What about the boy whose mom threw hotwheels at him until his head was bleeding? Is it his fault he grew up to use a substance and have nowhere to live?

What about the man whose emotional pain led him to take a bat to his own head?

Is it their fault they don’t know you? Have they really been given a chance?

You say that you wish all could repent and be known by you. I’ve been told that you haven’t come yet, because you’re giving out more chances. Is it really working though?

Aren’t more people dying without you than are dying with you?

Is it really just death, and hell, and that’s it? No more chance?

Isn’t it about time you came back?

Can you see how hard it is to think about these things AND hold onto your Goodness?

It’s a lot.

Come, Lord Jesus, please. Come and make it all right.

Things I Learned in 2023

I learned the difference between love and a crush and where the two sit within my body. It was a delightful discovery, made on a bus surrounded by 49 other people in a moment meant just for me.
I learned that the silent years between the Old and New Testaments were anything but silent. There was Antipater and the Maccabeans and a pig sacrificed on an alter. There were revolts and persecution and an increasing interest in Messianic prophecies. There were the rising and falling of empires, and somehow, it all worked to set up the perfect landscape for the Son of God to do His work.
I learned more about how loneliness feels than I ever cared to know.
I learned that success and turbulence often stand side by side. The triumph of one thing being completed stands right beside the disorientation of wondering what is next.
I relearned that my car is my favourite place to pray. I can yell, cry, make jokes, be sarcastic, use harsh language or comforting words, and no one minds; it’s just me and God.
I learned that even within the subjects I’m interested in, I will never run out of things to learn. I can learn all there is to learn for my whole life, and I will never know all there is to know. Isn’t that amazing?
I learned that with some tools and hard work, my mind does not have to own me. It might take a few days, some coping and a lot of space, but I am capable of pulling myself out of a mental spiral, and at the end of it, I am the one in charge of my mind. It is a helpful thing to know, and I would not have learned it without therapy.
I relearned what it is to be in God’s presence. At the beginning of the year, I had forgotten how it felt to be close to Him. Throughout the year, I relearned how to bring all I am into His presence. I still don’t constantly feel His presence (does anyone?!), but I’ve experienced it and know it is available.
I learned that the Old Testament is actually quite approachable and extremely fascinating. A spark has been lit, so maybe I’ll be an OT scholar someday…
I am still learning how to be kinder to myself. How to not set unreachable expectations. How to treat my failures with the grace that I would give others. How to speak and think and act with kindness. It is not an easy thing to learn.

I learned about Fentanyl and spiritual pathways and what it’s like to sing with an orchestra. I learned about heartbreak and friendship and honesty. I discovered how it feels to be a sister-in-law and to have a younger sibling start dating, and a host of other things. I learned that I love learning and hope to keep learning forever and ever.

What have you learned in 2023?

You know you’re single and almost 25 when… (The Flip Side)

…You’re actively fulfilling dreams. Just because one dream isn’t working out, doesn’t mean there aren’t others. Finding your life path and getting glimpses of what God might do with your life is pretty exciting.

…Independence! Independence is fun. Thinking about moving out is fun. Even if marriage seems impossible, lots of other things are very possible.

You know you’re single and almost 25 when…

…You eat spaghetti for breakfast at 9:30 on Saturday and no one even judges you. They’ve just accepted that this is the way you are.

…You know who your best friends are. You might not see them every week, but you know they’re there for you when you need them.

You know you’re single and almost 25 when…

…You start to see your weaknesses as not the worst thing in the world. You start to see how God uses the most frustrating pieces of your life as tools to do the deepest work. So what if I have crushes til I’m 53. If it keeps me running back to God, I’ll take it.

…You know how to be honest and vulnerable, and you start to find wonderful, safe places to be those things.

So there, lest you think it’s all bad. As with most things, it’s a both/and situation.

You Know You’re Single and Almost 25 When…

…Your independent woman wears off and you start to want a boyfriend just so you don’t have to go to things alone.

…holiday events are meh and Christmas looks a bit hard instead of just plain fun.

…You feel alone most of the time and sometimes it’s ok and sometimes it’s not.

You know you’re single and almost 25 when…

…Everyone else in their mid 20s seems like they’re doing just fine. You know realistically they’re probably not that fine, we’ve all just gotten pretty *bleep* good at pretending.

You know you’re single and almost 25 when…

…Pretending gets too hard and you decide to write honest blogs posts instead.

You know you’re single and almost 25 when…

…You come home early on a Friday night to sit on your bed (your bed, which at some point has become one of your favourite things?!) and journal and go to sleep early because you have to work the next day. (16 yr old me would be APPALLED. SO lame.)

You know you’re single and almost 25 when sometimes you get jealous of your dog. I mean, she gets to sleep whenever she wants. Literally everyone loves her and thinks she’s cute. She’s had like 5 boyfriends and a couple dozen kids AND retired before 50 (think dog years). Like what?! So not fair.

(don’t get me wrong, I don’t want 5 boyfriends. Just one would be great.:)

You know you’re single and almost 25 when…

…You get bored of yourself. Driving alone literally everwhere gets old.

…Thinking about spending every Christmas alone for the rest of your life is way too depressing and makes you hope you die young.

…Your friends are random and scattered. You have Sunday evening friends and Thursday afternoon friends, and they don’t know each other and you’re not even sure what a consistent friend group looks like anymore.

So there you go. A little peak into one person’s experience of being single and almost 25. If you’re almost 25, I hope you connect with some part of this and feel a little less alone. If you’re not almost 25, please check on your mid-2o-yr-old friends. Invite them over. Set them up on blind dates. Give them hugs. Help them celebrate the moment and stress just a little less about the future.

That’s all,

Cheers.

Doors and Love

Sometimes God gives me these physical, relatable pictures, communicating some aspect of my walk with Him.

I spent some time this morning exploring one, and wanted to share it with you.

I see myself in a room. Not just any room; for some reason, it’s the basement of my friend’s parents’ house.

It’s a large room, with a worn but comfortable sectional, a ping pong table, a small assortment of toys, and a comfortable rug to sit or sprawl or dance on.

But the most important thing about the room is the doors. There is one door in particular, that I have never been through. I picture it as a wooden door with a round doorknob. It is situated in the back corner of the room, sometimes blocked by the ping pong table.

In my mental picture, I am sitting by this door.

It’s not that this is the only door. There’s an open doorway into a hall, with more doors leading to a laundry room, an office, and a bathroom. I have access to those doors, but I have no desire to go in them at the moment. I am focused on This door.

Behind this door, I am convinced, is Something I want.

Desperately.

Behind this door is a relationship. One of intimacy, connection, and love unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

It’s physical and tangible. I see it all around me. I’ve seen others walk through doors just like this one.

I’ve wanted a relationship like this for a couple of years now. I’ve been sitting here, at this door, for several years.

But the door remains closed.

I’ve tried to open it.

Oh, I’ve tried.

I’ve jiggled the door handle. (It’s locked.)

I’ve knocked, pounded, yelled.

I’ve full on body-slammed the door a couple of times.

But it remains shut.

Because, on the other side, there is someone holding the door shut. Someone I know I can never beat. Someone I don’t want to beat.

Someone named Love.

I realize that I could open the door, if I really wanted to. I could get a sledge-hammer, or some dynamite.

But I know that would only hurt me.

So when I’m exhausted

from

twisting, turning

knocking, pounding

asking, yelling

I sink to the floor,

lean my head against the door,

and cry.

And Love comes

through the closed door.

Love sits with me,

lets me lean my head on his chest,

strokes my hair,

and holds me close.

Nothing changes about the door. It’s still closed. Still locked. The Thing I want remains on the other side.

Often, I wiggle away from Love

and go back to pounding on the door.

But always, I end up broken,

back in His arms again.

So this is where I’ll be. Sitting by the door, holding on to Love.

It doesn’t mean my wants go away. I still hope the door opens some day.

But I know,

that for now,

being here, with Love is what I need.