Holla! April was a such a good month. I went to a new country and made so many friends. It was all so exciting. So much to talk about but eh…
This is not so much fiction as it is non-fiction. I will leave it at that. Enjoy and here is to an even better May! Love and Light.
Oh and never forget – Jesus loves you (yes, you!) otherworldly.
Most people do not know this. But I do. That tears originate from wounds in the heart, from a tear in the muscle of the heart that quickly fills up with blood. As the blood escapes the tear and begins it sad path to your tear ducts, it earns clarity and becomes opaque to become what we simply call “tears”. But there is nothing simple about tears. It is not just water. It is blood refined.
She starts to cry sometime between the darkest part of the night and dawn. I don’t know exactly when because by the time I am awake, the pillow that holds her head is soaked beyond measure.
I hold her until the bleed in her heart stops and then I kiss her swollen eyes better. It is not enough I know. I am only the man who didn’t get here in time. I am only the one who fights demons of a past I was not a part of.
“Was it the dream?” I ask her, as we watch the sun rise in all its glory.
It is always the dream and so I kiss her eyes once again, forbidding those cowards that chose our time of repose and vulnerability to inflict pain.
“Is there anything I can do to make it better?” I ask, feeling like a failure. It has been a while since she cried so hard. There I was thinking it was over, that I had finally sent the nightmares away.
She turns around to face me, “You are here. You love me. You want me. All of that makes it better.”
I am not convinced so I find the hollow of her belly and kiss it until she begins to giggle. Who knew laughter was an aphrodisiac? Who knew that hearing the woman you love laugh would hold twice the force of Viagra?
She heads to the bathroom a while later and I watch her every move. I will follow shortly but for now I stay where I am and say a prayer to the One that made her, that has loved her longer than I have, that will love her longer that I ever could, her first husband.
“There is so much I can’t fix.”
“No one asked you to.”
“I can’t just sit back and watch her hurt.”
“No one asked you to do that either.”
“So what then? This is so frustrating.”
“Are you complaining Omololu? Because I remember it wasn’t so long ago you prayed for a woman that would complete you, a woman that would trust you with her battles and you could trust with yours, a woman that would fight beside you?”
“Yes but couldn’t you have given me someone less scarred, someone less hurt?”
“You wanted a warrior Lolu, you needed a warrior and warriors come scarred, and tested and true.”
“So what do I do when she is sad? When it hurts in places I have never been? How do I make it better?”
“How about you ask a sillier question? Like ‘how can I be you God?’ ”
I chuckle then.
“Just love her, hold her, remind her every second that this battle is won. I won it. Be her faith, Omololu, the evidence of what is not seen; be my love, my victory, my hope. Remind her of me. You might be her husband but I loved her first. You get her for a time but she belongs to me for eternity. Only I get to fix her.”
Later when I am scrubbing her back, it occurs to me that like her, no answer to prayer ever comes exactly the way we want. We ask for children to continue our legacies and we get answers in form of tiny humans that poop all the time everywhere and can hardly hold their heads up. It is our work to refine and grow them. We ask for wealth and we get jobs and businesses to work hard at. We ask for perfect and we get scarred because God became man once and and has no intention doing it again.
This is what faith means. To take the seed, to plant it, to water it with blood and tears, to weed, and then to wait with expectation for the desert rose to bloom.
Song of the day: X- Ambassadors – Unsteady