It has been said,

That God gives us what we need,

And any answer to any prayer we have,

Will come in HIS time,

And not a momnet before he has made it perfect.

I have searched high and low for a mate,

God helps those who help themselves, right?

Wrong, this is not scripture.

This is not His mandate.

Yet, here I am,

Right smack dab in the center of a crossroads.

I tied myself to a thing...

The belief that I could do a lot worse than marry,


I tied myself to someone I love,

But I am not in love with them.

I am not so sure I love them

As much as they love me.

I think what a punk I am.

I think how triffling can I be.

And she goes on thinking she has my whole heart.

But I can't...

She scares me.

With abuse issues so vivid in her mind,

I can't allow myself to be her punching bag.

I feel like,

What will I do if she goes to the left,

And her anger bleeds into my anger,

Over my own stuff.

I can't...

She is so founded in her Faith.

I am not on the same spiritual page,

I cannot leave people,

Because they are of "this world".

I cannot believe that people only let you down.

And I cannot live in poverty like she wants to.

Because that is how she feels close to God,

When "only" her needs are met.

I applaud her for that!

She also beats me.

She takes scripture and grills me,

Looking at only my faults for that moment.

She says she loves me,

But can't love be big enough

To include and not exclude?

I'm not into major physical things,

But take comfort in some small things...

Because they remind me of friends.

I have a mug set that Leatha gave me.

A picture of some dogs that once hung in my grandfathers home.

Ceramic pieces from every person I went to college with.

Stacks of CD's,

Because I want something for everyones taste...

     When they come to visit me.

I have beer mugs to remind me of my brother,

     And all the times we went bar hopping in Aggieville.

I have artwork I created.

I own little collectable mugs of football teams.

     Because that is my thing.

I keep wire sculptures

     Because my step dad liked a wreath I gave him.

     Barbed wire and windmills.

Gold plates of ships,

Metal duplicate ships,

Brass scales all remind me of my Uncle Dean.

Little toy cars, some limited editions...

     Because my grandfather taught me great taste.

Tea towels sit in my kitchen drawers,

     Because my Aunt Sharon made some of them.

My comfort does not come from extravagance.

It comes from small things...

Like a "Hello, I love you,"

When I am having a really bad day.

Like the smell of rain on a green wheat field.

Like drinking coffee in the morning,

And listening to the birds.

Even playing Ball with my dog Bug,

And taking naps with my Basset Jobie.

I enjoy snow cones on hot days,

Long walks on cool fall evenings.

And staying up all night just to watch the first snow fall.

But I can't...

Her joy comes from Prayer,

And mine comes from seeing His world of creation.

Her joy comes from helping strangers,

Mine comes from chatting with friends.

She wants to be an island unto herself...

And I cannot be her treasure in the sand.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Thinking out loud...

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