Turning to Love

With heavy feet I walk home, my thoughts confused. Kicking a pebble down the path in front of me, I cannot drown out the voices of accusation. I cannot even defend myself, for I had been wrong. I had done wrong. But home was my safe place. Home was where my Friend was. My Friend! How can I face Him? He must be so disappointed in me.

Hands in my pockets, I walk as the thought of meeting him today begins to sink in. I love our times together. (I’ve told you this many times so you might be tired of hearing it) Sitting by the fire, talking about everything and nothing, often lapsing into silence. Silence with Him is that comfortable stillness you can only get with those you know well and with whom you are at ease and safe. I look forward to those times with the deepest longing of my heart, but as I draw closer to the door, my apprehension grows. What am I thinking? After what I’ve done, he’s not going to want to spend time with me! I should give things time to cool off, and then visit later. Maybe he’ll have forgotten, or I will have forgotten. That might be better. My legs feel weak, my feet heavy, and the shame is something I can almost taste as my heart burns. I hate this. Why do I do what I don’t want to do? Why do I do the very thing I hate? I should turn around now, and walk the other way. We can get together another time.

I look up, suddenly, from my distraction and see with dread that I have come to the door. My feet have taken me home in spite of myself. I almost turn and walk away, but am stopped by the sound of singing from inside and the familiar smell of woodsmoke rising from the hearth. He often sings, and I love to hear that happy sound. It reminds me of being a child and hearing the laughter of my parents, an affirmation that all was well. He must be preparing for my arrival. My heart beats it’s heavy rhythm. My hand feels like it weighs 50 pounds as I finally lift it to knock.

Before my knuckles are able to contact the door, it falls away, eagerly opened from the inside. My eyes fall, downcast. Words die in my throat. My palms are sweaty. His arms are around me in a moment, and I am pulled inside as he shuts the door behind us. He is speaking excitedly, and finally I begin to hear his words.

“I am so happy to see you! These times where it’s just you and me are some of my favorite! Sit! Can I get you a drink? Relax, I’ll be back with something for you in a moment.”

Dropping into my cozy chair, I take a deep breath, thinking of how to explain things to Him. He quickly returns, handing me my drink then easing into the chair across from me. He takes a sip from the glass in his hand with a sigh of pleasure, his eyes looking over the rim at me. They are full of laughter and delight! He practically vibrates with excitement, like a child on Christmas morning. I allow myself a smile in return, his infectious love irresistible.

We stare into the dancing flames for a while as we enjoy our drinks, our silence kept company by the snapping fire. I let out a breath.

At my sigh he looks up, and after another moment he says, “You know, Beautiful Soul, I love you just as you are.”

Eyes filling with tears, I meet his gaze, and suddenly I’m telling him everything. I know he already knows, but I want him to hear it from me. He listens quietly as I unburden my heart, his kind eyes never leaving my face. I said, “I’m so sorry. It is not what I wanted to do, but I did it anyway. Will you please forgive me?”

He smiled, and I notice his own eyes glistening. “My Beloved, I forgave you before you did anything. There is no need to think about it any more. I am so very glad you did not cancel our time together! I would have really missed seeing you, and would have had to go out looking for you! It is so much nicer to be sitting here sharing in this warm place than out there in the cold together.”

He raises his glass in a toast. “To Intimate Fellowship and coming Home.” I raise mine in return as my eyes meet his. “Cheers.”

And we begin to sing….

Photo by Kim van Vuuren on Pexels.com

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