There was this bride. Well, she was more than just a bride--she was a wife as they have been married for nearly five years. The husband was a wonderful man, sharing everything good his with elegant bride. Sure, he was rich, but they didn't wed for the bank account: Husband would provide for every need Wife had, and sometimes gift her with extra money.
As much as Wife loved the extra gifts, she simply loved him for other things he's done for her. For example, one day she was traveling a side path in Africa (They had gone together on one of those extra-special gifts) and she lost her way. Night grew crisply and the frightening sounds of the African plains at night vibrated at her very bones. However, the most chilling sound was the gruff purring of a lion prowling in the grass. Wife couldn't see the lion, but she heard every step it took. It was circling her.
Suddenly everything went silent. The nocturnal critters seemed to stop their movements in what seemed to Wife as a somber moment of silence for the human slain. But what Wife couldn't hear were two things. One: the lion crouching for a pounce, for the lion trained every night to be more silent in its attacks. Two: the approaching all-terrain jeep, for Wife's nerves drove her to deafness as she breathed in her shallow breaths. In her bleakest of moments Husband blared his horn as he slid between them, instantly flashing his high beams and spotlights in the face of the beast. Frightened in its own danger, the lion darted away from the harrowing prey.
Yes, Wife loved Husband very much. Safety was found in his embrace. Love was found in his words. Passion was found in his hope for the future. As any bride, Wife felt unworthy of the deep love of her Husband. However, her feeling of unworthiness often provoked certain thoughts and actions that grieved Husband. For such thoughts and actions, let us immerse ourselves in one of their typical conversations of such.
Husband walked into the house. In his hands were the groceries he had bought after a three hour excursion. Wife was always grateful when he picked up the task of grocery shopping, especially when she was feeling down. She didn't always tell him why she was disheartened--but that didn't mean Husband didn't know, she figured.
And he did know. In one of the bags held a box of chocolate and drink packet of lime-aide. He quickly stirred up her a glass of lime-aide and sat at her feet, massaging her sore heels after giving her the presents. She sighed her appreciate and looked at the crown of his head.
"Do you love me?" She asked the question as quick as an arrow out of a bow.
Husband didn't pull back his hands from her toes, but kept massaging. His heart twinged. He hated that question. Not because he didn't love her, but that his love for her was very immense. He never failed to make evident his love for her, yet she pestered him with the question weekly.
"Yes, I love you. Until all the suns of the universe explode, devouring all things and a new universe is formed from the ashes. That next day will I still love you and devote my love to you to the same end."
Wife ignored the flowery words. Not because he didn't mean them--he did with every atom in his body. But because she didn't believe it wholly. She looked away from him. "But look at me: I'm ugly." The words were slow this time.
This time he stopped rubbing her feet. Husband looked into her eyes and placed his hands on her knees, clutching one of her hands in his fingers. "You are beautiful. More beautiful than the feathers of a thousand peacocks."
"No, no. My heart is ugly. Remember what we talked about last month? You know...where I've been looking at other guys with lust in my eyes?"
It was Husband's turn to sigh, but it wasn't out of appreciation. He tilted his head in remembrance.
"Well, I did it again. Neighbor across the street went running today while you were shopping. It was so humid that he kept his shirt of while lapping the block. I tried to look away, but he kept making laps. Somehow I found myself pulling up a chair beside the blinds and peaked through them each time he rounded the corner. He moved on to the next block toward the gym after a half hour. I was disgusted at myself after I watched him with my lusting eyes, though. I ironed all your shirts in the closet for work. I made you two pitchers of tea. I weeded the garden and even planted a purple tulip for your sake."
"Butterfly, nothing you could do will erase my love for you. It's as constant as salt in the ocean, or stars in the sky. I appreciate what you did after you realized your violation of my love, but all I want you to do is to love me. That's the best thing you could do." Husband touched Wife's face with his thumb. "You are my love."
"But I'm ugly. You don't understand. I feel it in my body--even my smile is ugly."
"No. Your smile is elegant. Even though you have two smiles..."
"Two smiles?"
"Yes. One smile is when you smile at other people. Your friends, your family. Even Neighbor when he takes his trash to the road at the same time you do. It's a beautiful smile. But kind of broken. Not ugly, but broken. Broken because you are half-joyed. You feel a slight flutter in your heart when you are with your friends and family in their love, and it radiates to your lips. It's even radiates when you try to look more attractive to Neighbor when getting the mail. It's that smile in form number one that is broken, however the smile that is perfect and purely delightful is the smile you bear when you think of me. When I stepped into the hall with the bag of chocolates and lime-aide your face brightened and your smile made my heart jump for joy. That's the smile that I love the most: when your heart is so thrilled at my love that it overflows into your face and smile."
"So you love me when I'm ugly?"
"You are not ugly, so there is no special love for your ugliness. When you lust, I love you. When you try to earn my love, I have loved without interruption. Of course I would much rather you not lust for other men. In fact, I beg you deeply not to. It it absolute violation of our love. When we made our marriage vows those five years ago, we made sacred bonds to each other to love until death do us part. Those sacred bonds weren't just mere words, they connected our hearts together with iron and steel. But though you've made a slip to remove yourself from your end of our love, I have never ceased to love you. My deepest desire is for you to love me with your everything. I want your eyes to love me, your heart to love me, your thoughts to love me, your spirit to love me."
"And when my ugly heart refuses?"
"I will love you yet the still. My heart breaks in many pieces. In one when you deny your love for me. In another when you think my love for you changes with the seasons of time. And yet another piece when you reject my words of love and believe yourself to be ugly. You are beautiful. There is no ugliness in you because when our hearts connect in love you burst forth with ever-glowing beauty. My love for you drives out any ugliness and creates in its place beauty that can't be fathomed. When my love runs dry, your beauty will turn to ash. You know very well when my love will end, and therefore you must believe with every atom in your body (and every time your heart pumps) that you are beautiful."
Moments lingered, wading through thick thought-waters. Finally, Wife stood to her feet. She spoke nothing, but she set her glass down on the end table and walked to the garage. Husband remained where he knelt, staring into the blackness of the open garage door. In two minutes she returned with a paint bucket and roller brush that they had been using for their library. (It was a special paint: chalkboard paint. They would write quotes from books on their freshly painted walls reminding them of different things they've learned.)
Wife tore off the curtain rod to the window she lusted from and laid it out in front of the window sill. She peeled off the lid of the paint can and dipped the roller brush into the blackness with a sideways lilt. She scraped the side as she pulled it out and slapped it on the window, lathering the black paint across the panes. In moments the entire window was blackened out. She threw the brush into the waste basket and closed the can. She returned it to the garage and came back with a fan and a box of chalk. She positioned the fan to quick-dry the window.
In a few minutes, the paint was dry. She withdrew a chalk stick and wrote on the window. She set the chalk on the counter and walked back to Husband and sat down next to him, placing her head on his heart.
"I am beautiful. My heart shall forever overflow with your love and I shall cast my overflowing love back to you."
~A story of Jesus and his Bride, the Church.
As much as Wife loved the extra gifts, she simply loved him for other things he's done for her. For example, one day she was traveling a side path in Africa (They had gone together on one of those extra-special gifts) and she lost her way. Night grew crisply and the frightening sounds of the African plains at night vibrated at her very bones. However, the most chilling sound was the gruff purring of a lion prowling in the grass. Wife couldn't see the lion, but she heard every step it took. It was circling her.
Suddenly everything went silent. The nocturnal critters seemed to stop their movements in what seemed to Wife as a somber moment of silence for the human slain. But what Wife couldn't hear were two things. One: the lion crouching for a pounce, for the lion trained every night to be more silent in its attacks. Two: the approaching all-terrain jeep, for Wife's nerves drove her to deafness as she breathed in her shallow breaths. In her bleakest of moments Husband blared his horn as he slid between them, instantly flashing his high beams and spotlights in the face of the beast. Frightened in its own danger, the lion darted away from the harrowing prey.
Yes, Wife loved Husband very much. Safety was found in his embrace. Love was found in his words. Passion was found in his hope for the future. As any bride, Wife felt unworthy of the deep love of her Husband. However, her feeling of unworthiness often provoked certain thoughts and actions that grieved Husband. For such thoughts and actions, let us immerse ourselves in one of their typical conversations of such.
Husband walked into the house. In his hands were the groceries he had bought after a three hour excursion. Wife was always grateful when he picked up the task of grocery shopping, especially when she was feeling down. She didn't always tell him why she was disheartened--but that didn't mean Husband didn't know, she figured.
And he did know. In one of the bags held a box of chocolate and drink packet of lime-aide. He quickly stirred up her a glass of lime-aide and sat at her feet, massaging her sore heels after giving her the presents. She sighed her appreciate and looked at the crown of his head.
"Do you love me?" She asked the question as quick as an arrow out of a bow.
Husband didn't pull back his hands from her toes, but kept massaging. His heart twinged. He hated that question. Not because he didn't love her, but that his love for her was very immense. He never failed to make evident his love for her, yet she pestered him with the question weekly.
"Yes, I love you. Until all the suns of the universe explode, devouring all things and a new universe is formed from the ashes. That next day will I still love you and devote my love to you to the same end."
Wife ignored the flowery words. Not because he didn't mean them--he did with every atom in his body. But because she didn't believe it wholly. She looked away from him. "But look at me: I'm ugly." The words were slow this time.
This time he stopped rubbing her feet. Husband looked into her eyes and placed his hands on her knees, clutching one of her hands in his fingers. "You are beautiful. More beautiful than the feathers of a thousand peacocks."
"No, no. My heart is ugly. Remember what we talked about last month? You know...where I've been looking at other guys with lust in my eyes?"
It was Husband's turn to sigh, but it wasn't out of appreciation. He tilted his head in remembrance.
"Well, I did it again. Neighbor across the street went running today while you were shopping. It was so humid that he kept his shirt of while lapping the block. I tried to look away, but he kept making laps. Somehow I found myself pulling up a chair beside the blinds and peaked through them each time he rounded the corner. He moved on to the next block toward the gym after a half hour. I was disgusted at myself after I watched him with my lusting eyes, though. I ironed all your shirts in the closet for work. I made you two pitchers of tea. I weeded the garden and even planted a purple tulip for your sake."
"Butterfly, nothing you could do will erase my love for you. It's as constant as salt in the ocean, or stars in the sky. I appreciate what you did after you realized your violation of my love, but all I want you to do is to love me. That's the best thing you could do." Husband touched Wife's face with his thumb. "You are my love."
"But I'm ugly. You don't understand. I feel it in my body--even my smile is ugly."
"No. Your smile is elegant. Even though you have two smiles..."
"Two smiles?"
"Yes. One smile is when you smile at other people. Your friends, your family. Even Neighbor when he takes his trash to the road at the same time you do. It's a beautiful smile. But kind of broken. Not ugly, but broken. Broken because you are half-joyed. You feel a slight flutter in your heart when you are with your friends and family in their love, and it radiates to your lips. It's even radiates when you try to look more attractive to Neighbor when getting the mail. It's that smile in form number one that is broken, however the smile that is perfect and purely delightful is the smile you bear when you think of me. When I stepped into the hall with the bag of chocolates and lime-aide your face brightened and your smile made my heart jump for joy. That's the smile that I love the most: when your heart is so thrilled at my love that it overflows into your face and smile."
"So you love me when I'm ugly?"
"You are not ugly, so there is no special love for your ugliness. When you lust, I love you. When you try to earn my love, I have loved without interruption. Of course I would much rather you not lust for other men. In fact, I beg you deeply not to. It it absolute violation of our love. When we made our marriage vows those five years ago, we made sacred bonds to each other to love until death do us part. Those sacred bonds weren't just mere words, they connected our hearts together with iron and steel. But though you've made a slip to remove yourself from your end of our love, I have never ceased to love you. My deepest desire is for you to love me with your everything. I want your eyes to love me, your heart to love me, your thoughts to love me, your spirit to love me."
"And when my ugly heart refuses?"
"I will love you yet the still. My heart breaks in many pieces. In one when you deny your love for me. In another when you think my love for you changes with the seasons of time. And yet another piece when you reject my words of love and believe yourself to be ugly. You are beautiful. There is no ugliness in you because when our hearts connect in love you burst forth with ever-glowing beauty. My love for you drives out any ugliness and creates in its place beauty that can't be fathomed. When my love runs dry, your beauty will turn to ash. You know very well when my love will end, and therefore you must believe with every atom in your body (and every time your heart pumps) that you are beautiful."
Moments lingered, wading through thick thought-waters. Finally, Wife stood to her feet. She spoke nothing, but she set her glass down on the end table and walked to the garage. Husband remained where he knelt, staring into the blackness of the open garage door. In two minutes she returned with a paint bucket and roller brush that they had been using for their library. (It was a special paint: chalkboard paint. They would write quotes from books on their freshly painted walls reminding them of different things they've learned.)
Wife tore off the curtain rod to the window she lusted from and laid it out in front of the window sill. She peeled off the lid of the paint can and dipped the roller brush into the blackness with a sideways lilt. She scraped the side as she pulled it out and slapped it on the window, lathering the black paint across the panes. In moments the entire window was blackened out. She threw the brush into the waste basket and closed the can. She returned it to the garage and came back with a fan and a box of chalk. She positioned the fan to quick-dry the window.
In a few minutes, the paint was dry. She withdrew a chalk stick and wrote on the window. She set the chalk on the counter and walked back to Husband and sat down next to him, placing her head on his heart.
"I am beautiful. My heart shall forever overflow with your love and I shall cast my overflowing love back to you."
~A story of Jesus and his Bride, the Church.
