Tag Archive | Valentine’s Day

Another Letter for My Future Husband


It’s been almost four years since I first wrote you a letter, and so much has changed. Four years isn’t a long time, but reading that letter feels like a glimpse into another life. In a lot of ways, I am a different person today.

I still love you. That much remains the same. I am still waiting, and I still have faith that you will find me someday. But that someday seems farther away now than it did four years ago, and I can no longer see it clearly.

So much has happened. And someday I will tell you all about it; I will cry in your arms and tell you about the hurt and the heartbreak and the confusion that have me stumbling now, hesitant to come closer to you because I would not have you see me like this.

There are some battles yet that I have to win on my own before I can face you. I don’t want to give myself to you broken; I want to be able to love you with a heart that is whole and brave and unafraid.

But I will still need you. There are struggles that I cannot face alone, and I want you there. I need you there, and I need to know that you will not leave halfway through. I need to know that you will fight for me, even when the enemy is myself.

And perhaps I may need to fight for you, as well. Perhaps we both have walls that need to be broken down before we can belong together. When that time comes, I want to be strong enough and wise enough not to run away.

Until then, darling, wait for me. Wait with me. Our time will come, love, when we are both ready. But even now, no matter what, I love you. I love you not knowing who you are, or where you are, or whether you are thinking of me at all. I love you not knowing when I will be with you. Because one thing I do know: no matter how many times I stumble on this road, you are walking this path, too, and in the perfect time, you will find me.





The girl was Korean, long haired and beautiful, one of the foreign students in the university. He was an American, tall and lanky, with a backpack that bore the signs of wanderlust. The tricycle I was riding stopped outside the cafe, and they got in with me.

“These are the things you write about in a travel diary,” he said, gesturing to the inside of the cab attached to a motorcycle. “How it feels to ride something like this.”

“Do you have a travel diary?” she asked.

“No,” he answered, gazing at her. “But I think I’ll start one tonight.”

I kept my eyes on the passing scenery, pretending to be oblivious to their conversation. In the enforced intimacy of the vehicle, however, I couldn’t help but be drawn in. They didn’t seem to know each other very well, but they had unmistakable chemistry. He was falling for her, I realized, trying not to smile.

He stole a shot of her with his DSLR camera, making her laugh. She borrowed it and asked him to teach her so that she could take his picture, too. They bantered back and forth, and it was light and sweet and a little corny — perfect, in other words. The kind of conversation that you lie awake at night remembering until you fall asleep with a smile.

Listening to them discreetly, I thought, this is what I miss. I still shy away from the idea of passion — the grand, deep, complicated vulnerability of an intimate connection with someone. But the openness to possibilities, the willingness to be enchanted by another human being — I miss that. If only I could have the fascination without the fall…but I can’t. One always follows the other for me, so I choose distance. Distance is safe, while I wait for courage.

But when the tricycle stopped at the seaside boulevard, I watched as he helped her down and didn’t let go of her hand. The odds were against them ending up with a happily ever after, but it didn’t seem to matter. Tonight they would walk hand in hand by the seashore of a country not their own, and, for the moment, it was enough.

True story written for the “beguiled” prompt from Writer’s Island and “story” from Sunday Scribblings.


The Second Time Around

You lose something precious when you lose your first love. It’s not just the person; it’s not just the heady experience of discovering emotions utterly new to you.It’s something else, something intangible and difficult to define. Only later, much later when the mourning is over and the heartache and the hurt have dwindled to memories do you realize what it was – the unhesitating courage to stake everything on what you feel.  You will love once more, of this you are certain, but never again with the abandon that comes from not knowing just what a risk you are taking. You will always be aware of that your heart can be wrong, because you remember the certainty of the first time you loved and how that certainty wasn’t enough in the end. There’s a loss of innocence that can never be recovered, and that, I think, is something that haunts you long after you have forgotten the dreams you once dreamed.

But if you are brave enough, there will come a time when you decide that the risk is worth taking once more. Hopefully you will not only be brave but wise as well, so that you will take this gamble at the right time and for the right person. Because if you are rash, then every mistake you make will cost you a part of your heart that you can never recover. But if you are careful –and very, very fortunate – then you may find something quite different from your first love: a love that is both thrilling and steadfast, both dreamy and real. Because this time around, you will know the value of what you have found and try harder to protect it. The memory of loss will make the joy of having that much sweeter. And the time you have waited to heal and to grow will be rewarded with a treasure worth more than you dared imagine, something more exquisite than you can describe. Then, finally, your faith in forever will be restored.

Ormeleth Veren, everyone.


Saving My 214

Maybe it’s because February is here, because for some reason, recent conversations I’ve had with friends keep returning to the topic of love. And when that happens, one thing is almost certain: I would have to explain why–in a time where being part of a couple is mostly the rule rather than the exception – I’ve chosen to stay single. A lot of people have told me that my standards are too high, that I’m too idealistic. So this got me thinking: Could they possibly be right? Am I waiting for someone who exists only in my imagination? Am I playing it too safe?

Maybe, in a way, I am being extra careful. I’ve made mistakes before, and I know the ache that comes from regrets over wrong decisions. But fear isn’t my motivation for waiting. It’s hope.

I’m hoping, no matter what the odds, that when the time is right, someone I can love without reservation will come. I am dreaming of a person who will be gentle with the most vulnerable side of me, the side that very few people get to see. More important than his physical appeal will be his wisdom, his tenderness, his faith. I’m not asking for someone who will go to the ends of the earth for me, but for someone who will take the effort to know me more deeply than anyone else has known me before. That may not be as easy as it seems – I am ridiculously neurotic when it comes to my personal boundaries. So I’m hoping that he will also have the patience and the sense of humor necessary to deal with the less-than-ideal aspects of my personality. And because I am obviously far from being perfect, I am praying that he will also trust me enough to let me see his flaws so that I can love him for who he is. Without hesitation, I would gladly trade all the moonlit serenades in the world for a lifetime of laughter and conversations with such a man.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for romance and the thrill of being in love. Every girl dreams of being swept off her feet. But what I’m saying is this: Without the friendship, without the spiritual bond, then all the roses and all the candlelight in the world will not make a relationship last. It’s the commitment that’s vital, more than the adrenalin rush. It’s the daily decision to make a conscious effort to put the needs of another person first. This, for me, is true love. And I know it doesn’t come easy. Love like this doesn’t grow in the time span of a slow dance or a kiss. It takes time: time to grow together, to learn about each other and to mature in generosity. So I’ve chosen to wait until I’m ready to give and to receive this kind of love. Because right now, I know that I still have a long way to go.

I know this is a risk – a risk of hoping, of trusting that somewhere in my future is the love story I am praying for. But I’m willing to take it. I’m ready to take the chance that I may be missing out on what could be the most exciting years of my life by waiting for something that I can’t even glimpse on the horizon yet. Because isn’t this what faith is all about – the substance of things unseen, the evidence of things hoped for? And I do have a guarantee that I could stake everything on: the certainty that Someone who loves me deeply is in control of my future. So from my perspective, this gamble is definitely in my favor.

It may take a long time, but that’s how it is with everything worthwhile.   I don’t feel a need to rush, for what are a few years of waiting when I’m anticipating a lifetime with the right person? In the meantime, this I know: that when he finally arrives, I will know why no other person could have taken his place. I will know that I can only belong with him and with no one else. So no matter what it takes, I am saving my heart for him. I know he will be worth it.