Sometimes, when we fuck, I think about how you're my wife, and what we're doing is something that god made.
Tonight, I'm finishing up my homework for Step 3. Wait: tonight, I'm starting my homework for Step 3. I gotta figure out what god is, give my life to that person, place, or thing, and render some writing about it fit to show folks at tomorrow's meeting. And I'm a nerdy, vicious kind of codie, so I WILL have it done, and all of it, and done well. I'm crazy like that.
But in between trying to solve god, my lovely husband reminded me of the first place where I found an adult understanding of what god means to me. When I'm feeling close to someone, connected in a way that's bigger than each of us alone, I start to feel my heart opening a chink wider to something spiritual.
On the way to work this morning, we were talking about how we'd both had weird, restless dreams, and strangely, we'd both dreamed about the same people...really for no reason, as we'd not been talking or thinking about these people. And then tonight, he interrupts my struggle to wrestle god into submission with his lovely hands and neck and mouth, and he whispers beautiful things to me, reminding me that it isn't always so goddamned complicated. Or it is, it is entirely complicated, but also basic, simple, clear, and raw.
Sometimes, I can just look right in front of me, and I'll remember that god's there, god's here, god's everything and everyone and so ready to give me warmth and sweetness if I can just stop struggling long enough to see.