“There are as many forms of love as there are moments in time.”
“A lady’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.”Jane Austen
I have never met him. I have never lifted my gaze to find his eyes already watching me. I have never shared a warm smile with him, nor brushed my fingertips against his hand, nor listened to the sound of my laughter mingling with his.
But I love him.
Inconceivable, isn’t it? That my heartstrings could tangle with something so intangible as a person I have never met?
Only I can’t help myself because every time I think of him, I slip a bit farther. I fall a little harder. I love just a notch more.
Because I know I’ll spend my life with him. I know, one day, God will rearrange the world to bring us together. I know the stranger will melt into someone familiar, someone who is mine alone. Thoughts of this, dreams of this, hopes of this…that is what births my love.
And the love grows deeper, deeper, and deeper. Every day it enlarges, until it constrains me and envelopes me. I don’t waste time on others I know will never be my husband. I don’t seek out relationships at every turn in my road. I don’t dress in ways that are dishonoring. I don’t give away purity’s treasure.
Because I love him. I love the stranger I’ve never met.
I can’t give away particles of my heart to everyone I meet. I can’t let those around me steal away all those dear “firsts” that are meant for my husband. Because if I were to give a little here and give a little there—when I meet my husband, I’ll have nothing whole to offer him.
So I’ll keep on tucking the pieces of my heart safely inside of myself. I’ll give them to God for safe keeping. I’ll keep waiting on the timing He designs.
And when the stranger finally comes?
Well, then I’ll fall in love with him all over again…for the second time.