A long night, not alone

There I lie in the dark, determined to stand my emotional ground but also trying not to harden my heart.  I feel resentful and hurt by how things have gone between us, and stupidly disappointed over the sports results.  I'm on my side, facing you, a pillow between my legs, my knees and elbows protecting my physical space as a means of honoring my emotional state.  A few minutes ago I woke up from a dream, you still not here beside me, the closet light still on, confirming my aloneness. You've come in, since, and I can tell you want to pick up where our banter had us this morning, this afternoon.  I just can't.

Can you not tell how much your single-mindedness hurts me?  Haven't I told you enough?  Do I have to communicate it every time?  Wednesday morning you are leaving for six days that I envy, while I'm also glad for you that you can go.  Tomorrow night will be filled with my prayer meeting and your packing and early bedtime, so tonight was our last shot at time together.  Yes, we had the weekend, mostly on your terms, though you did acquiesce to my movie choice.  But every. night. of television: it has gotten ancient and seems eternal, though I should know it's only temporary.

I can't go back to sleep.  Finally I roll over away from you, silently allowing you into my space again, though only physically.  I can tell your wishes, but am unable to respond to them.  It seems I can do no more than this as I continue to lie there awake, frustrated by my inability to sleep even in my determination to not harbor and nurture anger but rather to merely be.  Suddenly and unexpectedly I awaken again, not sure at what point in the past two hours my still wakefulness passed into uneasy dreams.  Arising to relieve a bit of physical waste, I am surprised that biology has begun to stir me in spite of myself, and I allow my emotions to join and encourage my physical response and your presence, to become our presence together.

It is a wonderful thing, and yet there lingers something for us to deal with, to grow from.  I don't believe this is something for me alone to lay down, though I must do my part of that.  We are going to need for you to do your part, and it is going to have be more than just choosing what you always choose in a way that happens to include me if I want it to.  I do want it to, but I want more.  There has to be room for more of me, too.

I want to cry out with Jesus: may this pass?  Must I die?  Oh, I know I must, and if it is your will, Lord, I will.  But in your dying you fulfilled yourself, your very purpose for being here.  I know it is my purpose, too; still I long to selflessly be who I am with her, for there to be room for me to embrace who she is while being embraced for who I am.