You know what I mean? They never twinkle like they’re about to fall upon the earth and wreak holy havoc, they never masquerade as tiny airplanes. They feel honest and simple, like this whole midwest home feels to me.
Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran will always make me think of my cousin’s first dance with her new husband. I stood far to the side with my parents; as the slow sway began, sobs appeared in my throat and tears I didn’t know existed started to mess up my foundation. My dad patted my back and I continued to cry through the whole song, in awe that my cousin had a man who loved her enough to marry her and spend the rest of his life by her side, and that she had the sort of love for him to do the same.
It’s scary, but I don’t think I trust myself to care for the heart of a man. I’ve messed up two times already, moving hastily and (apparently) not asking for the sort of wisdom that Solomon thought he had. I want to be certain, to have a relationship that is secure, one that has been approved by some sort of priestly-seal.
(Did the Israelites marry for love? Did they go through pre-marriage counseling? Did they sob in tents because of broken hearts?)
I am not keen on taking risks when the heart of a good man could be hanging in the balance, but what sort of life is lived with fear? Where is the balance of caution and freedom?
(you’re wiser than I am….please enlighten me)