Clandestine Confessions

I was watching the sunset at an overlook in Smokey Mountains National Park.
I had told a friend recently my deep love for sunrises and sunsets; the “why” to the admiration I hold for them.
He suggested I make it my “thing” in life to see them in every state.
So there I was…
–
However, on that day it wasn’t nature’s splendor that entranced me.
I was captivated by the beauty of human connection; the love of the couple sitting in this photo.
Here the sky was rapidly changing into hundreds of exquisite colors and yet I could not take my eyes off the two people beside me.
The way he held her safely on the ledge.
How he wrapped his jacket around her as the temperature dropped.
The looks they gave each other amidst laughter.
How we would later open her car door and kiss her on the forehead before closing it.
–
There was no stopping the crying – was not even going to attempt that impossible feat.
I knew my heart needed to feel this one; the pain, the grief, the longing, the sadness.
I could not let it drown any longer in the rising waters of unreleased tears.
I allowed them to slowly fall.
–
I have gone back and forth on how much I have wanted to disclose regarding my beginning of 2021.
In my moments of anger and confusion, I get tempted to expose it all.
In my times of peace and clarity, I decide on silence.
The latter is ultimately where I need to stay for it is the best representation of my character.
And I will not sacrifice who I am because of what has been done to me – no matter how much hurt has been inflicted. I have lost enough in this situation, and I refuse to surrender anymore.
–
So I sit back, stay quiet, and watch someone’s happily ever after unfold; accepting that although I was in preparation to write the ending myself, it is no longer my story to finish in the way I saw.
The book decades in the making finished abruptly and emotionally harshly; partly by choice and partly by force.
The last sentence having been written on this trip.
–
But all that was endured and experienced allowing the wrong hands to hold my heart has made me extremely sensitive to love – true love.
The kind that honors, speaks truth, has the courage to let you be known.
The kind that uplifts, encourages, has eyes that see you for all you are and all you will be.
The kind that wakes you up, ignites your spirit, inspires you to be better.
And I watched this couple knowing they were right in the middle of the miracle of living in it.
I wondered if they realized they were a representation of someone’s prayer….
–
“God, You know my heart. Let it be so. And please bless their love – may the sorrows be few and the joy be abundant. Amen.”
–
I got back in my car right as the last trace of sun made its mark on the valley and the couple departed.
And as soon as the door was shut, the passivity of my crying transformed into a guttural wail. Grasping the steering wheel as if to brace myself physically for the emotional turmoil ensuing.
That release still a mere iota of the amount of agony my heart was been harboring over the past few months – not over what and who no longer exists but over the betrayal.
Over the manipulation.
Over the abuse.
Over the deceit.
–
If healing has taught me anything it is that the only way out of the trauma is through.
And I knew this moment, this overlook sunset, this couple were all a divine placement to put me on the path to my heart’s restoration.
And I was committed to walking it.
Because of this intense, perhaps insane, trust on the other side is my answered prayer, the love I have so boldly claimed time and time again holds the power to heal, the man God set apart for me.
–
Pain has not eradicated the promise.
It exists to magnify the purpose of the promise.
And with each day I am getting closer to calling that land my home….